The Wicked Wager (10 page)

“He would never believe it. It is too
absurd.”

“He is already suspicious. We have been
acting like we have been caught doing something naughty every time he has met
us, and that has already laid down the groundwork. All you have to do is meet
me more blatantly and talk about me a lot more. Throw in how wonderful I am and
how much I know of leaves and roots during dinner or something.”

“I cannot do that! No one would believe it,
and I can’t have them thinking I am some sort of blatant hussy!”

The earl chuckled,

“Fine, do not mention me, but do not run
away either the next time the duke catches us.” He caught her hand and added
slyly, “It is not as if you are trying to keep away from me in any case.”

Emma had no reply to that, so with a short
nod she reluctantly agreed. Then she changed the subject and told him about her
investigations and Mrs Barkers behaviour.

The earl was thoughtful.

“I am not surprised that some woman is
throwing herself at him. He is, after all, a duke, and it is well known that
his wife is mad. As far as I am aware he has no mistress, and Mrs Barker may be
looking to fill that role. Mr Barker sounds like he doesn’t really care what
she does. Stop worrying, the duke is old enough to choose his own diversions.
As for him having still not written to your father or to me … it is odd.”

“I think he will write tonight. Will you be
able to get away?”

“I will do my best to try and meet you in
your rooms tonight.”

Catherine called out that moment to say
they were returning indoors.

Emma quickly brushed off her muddy skirt as
best as she could and made her way towards the manor. At the entrance she
encountered the duke, who eyed the dirt on her skirt with pursed lips.

Whether she wanted to or not the duke, it
seemed, was drawing the exact conclusions the earl wanted him to draw. Emma
walked away wanting to half laugh and half cry.

The earl met her that night, and Emma
greeted him in relief. Her aunt’s vivid imagination was hard to laugh off when
the manor was plunged in darkness and every tiny sound was amplified. She had
been afraid of running into the duchess’s spirit friends, and at night it
somehow did not sound insane.

They went about the business quickly, the
earl too impatient to even steal a kiss.

Emma pounced at the first letter that lay
on the table as it was addressed to her father. She quickly took it off the
tray and unsealed it. Sure enough, it requested details of the head gardener
that Lord Hamilton had recommended.

Emma pocketed it, intending to reply
herself, and then ask the earl’s valet to send it to London. It would then be
posted back to the duke so that it had the London mark on the envelope. It
would delay the letter, but that could be blamed on the post.

Next they found another envelope marked to
Lord Hamilton. They left that alone, as it would reach the earl’s London home,
and then be forwarded to his valet. The earl could reply to that when it
reached him. There was nothing else of significance, and they retired to their
respective rooms, with Emma only receiving a half-hearted kiss.

The earl was preoccupied with wondering how
he could speed up the entire plan. The weeks seemed to stretch before him, and
he wanted to get this entire thing over with as soon as possible. He had not
had a single night’s good rest; he was getting impatient, and it hadn’t even
been a week yet.

***

The next day Emma awoke feeling miserable
and wanted to speak with the earl immediately. She was in no mood to search the
grounds for him. Therefore, she cornered Pickering and inquired as to the
whereabouts of the head gardener.

The man paused briefly, an expression of
surprise almost crossing his face, before he calmly replied that the man in
question was in the night garden. Emma thanked him and quickly set off in that
direction.

A number of ladies had come for tea that
afternoon and the task of entertaining them had fallen to Emma and Catherine.
They were kindly old women discussing the needs of the church and bearing a pot
of calf jelly for the duchess. The women
in the
village, especially the older ones, always spoke of the duchess in hushed tones
as if she were an invalid.

Catherine politely
smiled
and assured them that their advice regarding the duchess’s health would be
taken into consideration. No matter that, physically at least, the duchess was
as strong as a horse, and she never caught as much as a cold in her life.

After promising the women help with sewing
more clothes for the poor, Catherine retired to rest for a while before dinner.

Emma, being left to her own devices, had
slipped out after questioning the butler. She found the earl seated on the edge
of a marble fountain.

“Good evening, I did not expect to see you
until tonight. Has something happened?”

“Yes, no, I mean nothing has happened as
such, but something has been worrying me, and I wanted to talk to you.”

He patted the seat next to himself and Emma
sat down.

“Does it not bother you to be going through
the duke’s papers? I find it deceitful and do not like it.”

The earl did not smile, instead said
reflectively,

“It is not honourable, but we never go
through any of the letters addressed to his estate manager, close family
friends, or even the duchess’s physician. You know most of the people that the
duke corresponds with, and you make sure to read only
the first few
lines of any letter written to anyone you have not previously heard of.”

The earl paused to pull out a package
wrapped in brown paper. He undid the strings and offered it to Emma.

She found the paper full of berries. She
chose one carefully before saying,

“I do try, but something like that letter
to Nutters was so personal. I don’t think it is right that we were privy to it.
Reading letters written to my father is a different matter, since he has always
allowed me to deal with such things.”

“We mean no harm and our intentions are, if
not good, then only mischievous. Don’t worry about it so much. I will meet you
tonight as usual, and we will try to be more careful and not read more than
necessary. He may still write to Nutters, and we need to make sure that letter
does not reach its destination.”

“I wish …”

“What is it?”

“I wish I could spend more time with you.
Our stolen moments together do not feel like enough.”

He glanced at her wistful face and felt an
answering pang of longing.

“Why don’t you wear an old frock tomorrow,
one you don’t mind getting dirty, and carry a pair of garden gloves. Ask Lady
Babbage for permission, and join me in the garden. Tell her you want to learn
something of growing flowers since you intend to have a patch of your own once
you are married.”

“We can spend the day together, and if Lady
Babbage wants, she can sit on a bench and keep watch over me. The duke cannot
complain,” said Emma delighted.

“So I take it that you will join me?”

“Yes, I will,” she promised, considerably
cheered.

***

Mrs Barker was silent that evening. She
snapped at Lady Babbage more than once, and Prudence looked bored.

Catherine suggested a game of cards to
improve tempers, and the women quickly agreed. No one was in a mood to
converse, and the competitive game improved their spirits somewhat.

The duchess won every round, which came as
no surprise. The woman had the devil’s own luck in cards. Her grace declared it
was her dear departed father who always aided her.

Emma, having lost all her pennies, silently
agreed that her aunt’s good luck was uncanny, unless she cheated, but that
thought was laughable in itself. The duchess could not possibly know how to
cheat at cards, nor did she have the patience or the presence of mind to use
sleight of hand.

They all retired to bed early that evening.
Things were getting dull in the house.

Emma met the earl that night feeling more
secure about their nightly adventures. She assumed everything would go as
usual. She was mistaken. Things started to go wrong the minute the earl met
her.

“I think Pickering is suspicious. He asked
me where I disappear to at night. It seems he has seen me slip out of bed more
than once. He could have followed me before, but I am not sure.”

“How can you be sure that he hasn’t
followed you again?”

“I slipped a sedative into his cup this
evening. It is a perk of being a gardener and knowing my plants. He will sleep
like a log the entire night, but I cannot keep dosing him, or he will get
suspicious.”

“I hope we find a letter written to Nutters
regarding your status. I, too, am getting weary of this nightly prowling.”

“I agree, we cannot keep doing this. We are
sure to be discovered sooner than later.”

Emma picked up the candle and made her way
out into the hallway.

They walked down the main staircase and
turned the corner towards the duke’s study, when they heard the unmistakable
sound of a floor board creak.

“It came from the stairs,” whispered Emma
in fright.

The earl held his finger to his lips and
peeped around the corner to look at the staircase.

Emma joined him and stifled a gasp.

A ghostly figure in black was slowly
descending the stairs. A candle held aloft in one hand was throwing flickering
shadows on the face. The figure was tall and straight, while the skin looked
unnaturally pale.

Emma dug her nails into the earl’s arm. He
grasped her hand and held it.

They watched transfixed as the vision moved
slowly down the steps. The closer it moved the more aware Emma became of the
fact that she knew that face. The carriage was different, yet the features
looked remarkably familiar.

The figure stopped on the bottom step, and
Emma suddenly knew whom she looked at.

The earl pulled her quickly towards the
study. They hid inside and blew out the candle. After a moment, they heard
footsteps approaching the door. The person paused outside briefly and then
moved on. Emma waited for a few moments before sagging against the earl.

“That was Lady Babbage. I barely recognised
her. I always have this notion of her bending over a piece of cloth or wool.
She seemed taller, and I have never seen that expression on her face before.”

“What do you suppose she was doing roaming
around so late at night. I had assumed it was the duchess on her walks to hunt
down spirits.”

Emma was surprised she hadn’t thought of
that as well. She was also a trifle embarrassed that her first thought instead
had been that the woman was a ghost.

“She may have been unable to sleep and went
to fetch a book in the library.”

“Except that she was fully dressed and looked
as though she was going out,” he replied.

“Perhaps she never changed, though I recall
she wore a dull blue dress tonight … not black.”

“Odd … well, we can’t go through the papers
today, as the candle is out. I don’t think we will be able to find a tinder box
in the dark. Besides, I am afraid Lady Babbage may catch us. We can’t afford to
take that risk. I suggest we retire for the night and pray the duke has not
written to Nutters yet.”

“With the way my luck has gone tonight, I
wouldn’t be surprised if he has. Oh, well, we can’t do more. Goodnight,
Richard.”

The earl, instead of answering, pulled her
close. It was considerable time before Emma reached her room.

***

Catherine and Prudence left for the village
accompanied by the duchess. Mrs Barker said she felt a little under the weather
and decided to stay home.

Meanwhile, Emma, garbed in a faded grey
dress, sought out Lady Babbage, who agreed to accompany her, finding her
request for learning more about plants perfectly acceptable.

Pickering informed her that the head
gardener could be found in the Oriental garden. That man, Emma mused, knew
where every single soul was on the entire estate. He had barely given a thought
before answering her.

Sure enough, the earl was bending over some
exotic plant, turning the earth with his fingers. An under-gardener who looked
to be around thirty sat listening to whatever the earl was saying.

They both glanced up as Emma approached.
The earl smiled in welcome, his blackened teeth causing her amusement.

She glanced at the man next to him and was
shocked to see pure loathing on his face. Emma turned to see what he was
looking at and found the source of his ire. It was Lady Babbage.

Lady Babbage had barely glanced at the two
men and missed the look directed her way. She found a stone bench and pulling
out her needles calmly prepared to work.

By the time Emma turned around she found
the under-gardener already walking away. The earl sat staring after him.