The Wicked Wager (24 page)

“I cannot find it,” Emma whispered in
frustration.

“Perhaps the morning room?” the earl
whispered back.

“We might as well try all the rooms we can,
Richard. I tried to keep an eye on her, but it was hard with so many people
tonight …”

“Hush, did you hear that?” the earl asked,
placing a finger on her lips.

They stilled, straining their ears. At
length, she shook her head and raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps it was another mouse. I think we
should not speak anymore. I feel as if the entire house is awake and prowling
tonight,” the earl said quietly.

She nodded in agreement, and they continued
their search. After searching for more than two hours, they gave up, and Emma
returned to her room alone.

She undressed and got into bed, but the
moment she closed her eyes a knock at her door had her sitting bolt upright.

“Richard, what’s the matter, I thought you
were returning to your room,” Emma exclaimed, seeing the earl back so soon.

“I tried, but the entrance to the servant
room is locked. I don’t understand it. It has never been locked before. I tried
the front door and windows, and they are all bolted shut.”

“I am sure Lord Raikes will let you sleep
on the couch. You can slip out in the morning,” she said nervously, shifting to
block the earl’s view of her own bed.

“On the contrary, I think I need to sleep
in a warm bed tonight. I am fed up of my hard mattress.”

“Will he let you take his bed?”

“No, but you will,” he replied smiling.

***

Lord Raikes paced the room, and Catherine
eyed him warily.

“I did not invite Prudence into my room. I
found her there when I returned from Emma’s room.”

She gasped.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I went to
Emma’s room to meet the earl to ask him to allow me to tell you everything.”

“You went to Emma’s room to speak to the
earl. That is, you went to her room to speak to yourself? Then you returned to
your room to find Prudence in such a state?” she asked sceptically.

“Look, it is hard for me to explain. It
will take some time, so bear with me while I tell you from the beginning,” Lord
Raikes said agitatedly.

“I am listening, My Lord.”

“I am not engaged to Emma.”

“She called off the wedding! Finally, she
has come to her senses.”

“No, I mean the earl is engaged to Emma,
but I am not.”

“I see, My Lord. I think … I think London
has some fine doctors. This condition you have … is it from birth?” Catherine
asked, nervously inching her way towards the door.

“What? … Oh, you think I am mad! On the
contrary, I am as sane as you are. I am trying to tell you that I am not the
earl. I am not Richard Hamilton.”

Catherine’s eyes scrunched up in confusion.
She searched his face and then asked, “Can you try and explain this any
better?”

“Yes, I am trying. Look, I am not the earl,
I am the marquis’s eldest son, William Raikes. I am Richard Hamilton’s
neighbour as well. We grew up together, and after my education was complete, I
went travelling. I became an author and recently returned to England since my
father has been ailing and requested my presence.”

He glanced at her to see how she was taking
it. She looked like she believed not a word.

He continued his narrative, explaining how
the earl had sent him a letter requesting
him to
join the farce; how over the coming days, things had become more convoluted as
his interest in her increased.

“I wanted you to know because I could not
bear another day of seeing you suffer under the misconception that I was a
rake, playing with your feelings, as well as Emma’s. I implore you to believe
me.”

Catherine eyed him distrustfully, “So the
earl is the gardener, and you are his friend pretending to be the earl? I find
the whole thing too fantastical to believe. Is there any proof?”

“Emma will tell you that it is the truth.”

“But why did she not tell me in the
beginning?”

“She was afraid you may tell the duke.”

“I still might.”

“Please can you not keep it quiet for a few
more days? If not for me then do it for Emma’s sake. It is only a matter of
another week. It is a harmless charade, and they mean no harm.”

“I will think about it,” she said, pulling
her robe closer together. “Now it is late, can you please return to your
rooms?”

His heart felt lighter now that the entire
secret was out. He stared at Catherine, who stood nervously shifting from foot
to foot. Her wary eyes were a shimmering blue, reminding him of a lake he used
to visit with his father as a child.

He knew if he stayed a moment longer, he
would kiss her.

They would both regret it later, he for
rushing her and her for kissing him. He eyed her face framed by a riot of
golden curls and decided to stay a moment longer.

She clutched the lapels of her robe tighter
wondering why he wasn’t leaving her room. She needed time to think, to come to
terms with the fact that Lord Raikes was not Emma’s fiancé. He was single,
available, and perfectly acceptable as a suitor.

More importantly, she was madly attracted
to him.

She stared at his handsome face, and the
emotion in his dark eyes arrested her.

The tick-tock of the clock on the
mantelpiece faded, and her head swam as she unconsciously swayed towards him.

“Oh, I do not think so. I have a lot more
to say,” he finally answered her.

His husky voice seemed to break her trance.

“You do?” she squeaked, backing away towards
the door.

“We still haven’t discussed us.”

“Us?” Her heart thundered in her ribs, and
her eyes strayed to his lips.

He smiled in response and said, “You and me
and what we are to do about this attraction we feel towards each other.”

“You are mistaken, I feel no such thing,”
she said, panicking at the look in his eyes.

He put his hands up on the door to imprison
her as he spoke, “Then I think it was time I proved it to you.”

“What … what do you mean?” she asked
breathlessly as the scent of him enveloped her, and her eyes fluttered close.

Instead of replying he bent down to kiss
her.

He kissed her rhythmically and insistently,
until she opened up under him. He groaned in satisfaction when her lips parted.
He pulled her closer, running his hands through her silky hair. She moaned in
response, and he abruptly stopped.

His breathing was ragged as he asked, “Do
you deny the attraction?”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she nodded.

He grinned, pulling her flush against him.

She felt as if she were on fire. She arched
closer, and her head tilted up, her lips parting for another kiss.

He touched her bottom lip with the tip of
his tongue, tracing the outline, but refusing to kiss her.

She whimpered in frustration, and he
whispered, “Admit it, Catherine, do you want me to kiss you?”

She swayed closer, her head feeling dizzy.
He was no longer her cousin’s fiancé; he had never been. She could kiss him,
she had every right to kiss him and then … sanity intruded. She was in her
bedroom with a man, wearing only her nightgown. She stared at him, growing
frightened of the intensity in his face.

She pushed him away, and taken by surprise
he fell back.

“Please leave,” she whispered.

He looked at the fear in her face and
cursed inwardly. He had not meant to scare her. She had to be wooed gently, and
his own passions had made him lose control.

He gave her an apologetic smile as he left
to return to his rooms.

The duke heard his valet murmuring above him.
He dismissed it as a dream, but then he heard the louder voice of Pickering
calling out to him.

He irritably opened his eyes, “What is the
matter? It is still early, and I have another hour of sleep left. Why have you
disturbed me?”

“Your Grace,” Pickering spoke up from
behind the valet, “it’s an emergency.”

The duke glanced at the tensed faces in
front of him and frowned. He had never before been woken up by any of his
household staff. He sat up and waited for his valet to hand him the robe.

The valet stared at the duke’s outstretched
hand in confusion.

Pickering leapt into action, handing him
the robe instead, and then ran to fill the basin with cold water.

The duke glanced at the trembling valet in
concern. Something was very wrong.

“Pickering, get my clothes ready and send
Davy down to the kitchens. He looks like he could do with a cup of tea,” the
duke said, moving towards the basin and splashing his face with cold water.

He needed to keep calm and ensure that no
one in the household panicked. He understood from Pickering’s barely restrained
agitation that the news was bad.

He gave himself a few selfish seconds to
get his emotions under control. Catherine was fine, he chanted over and over.
His daughter was safe.

He forcefully banished his morbid thoughts
and finally turned to ask Pickering why he had been woken up at such an
unearthly hour.

“Your Grace, the maid who attends to the
fires in the morning always goes to Lady Babbage’s room first, since she wakes up
before anyone else in the house. A few minutes ago she entered the room as
usual and found her dead,” Pickering replied.

“Found who dead?” he asked, confused.

“Lady Babbage, sir.”

His eyes snapped open. He stared at the
anxious faces in front of him. For a moment, he thought it was a horrible joke,
the next he dismissed the idea.

Perhaps the maid had been mistaken, and his
sister had merely been taken ill.

“Come with me,” he ordered, striding out in
his robe.

He walked towards his sister’s room, and with
each step his heart steadied as it began to sink in that Catherine was fine.

He stopped outside the door and felt
relieved. He could face anything, but if anything had happened to his daughter,
he would have gone to pieces.

As for his sister … he paused to examine
his feelings. After his wife’s death, his biggest fear had been losing
Catherine. He spent his days worrying about her welfare, whereas he had always
assumed his sister would be alright.

His hand trembled as concern for his sister
overwhelmed him. He steeled
himself and knocked
on the door. No one answered.

His trembling increased; his hand pushed
the door, and it opened easily and silently on well-oiled hinges.

His eyes shot to the bed at the centre of
the room.

Lady Babbage was lying on her front,
deathly still. A large butcher’s knife protruded out from the middle of her
back.

He leaned against the doorpost in shock.
His mind seemed to go numb, and then slowly his brain started taking in the
details of the scene. He noticed the blood seeping through the white sheets and
the brutal violence with which the knife was embedded in his sister’s back.

He also realised that his grief would have
to wait. Someone must have committed the murder, and that person was still in
the house.

“Get everyone to assemble in the library
within half an hour. I don’t care if you have to throw buckets of water to wake
them. Pickering, I need to see you before anyone else, so let someone else wake
the household members. I want a report from you.” The duke mentioned two more
names of people who he wanted assembled along with the family.

Pickering looked taken aback at the request
but left to do as he was bid.

The duke changed quickly and had a brief
conference with his butler.

Another half an hour went by, before a stranger
was shown into the library. By the time he had finished briefing the newcomer,
the household started entering the room. A few looked annoyed at being dragged
out of bed at six in the morning whilst others looked curious and worried.

Mrs Barker was the first to arrive. She sat
down nervously on one of the few chairs provided.

He assured her that he would announce
everything once everyone was present.

Mr Barker came soon after and angrily
demanded the reason for being unceremoniously woken up like this. Catherine and
Emma came running in before the duke could finish soothing Mr Barker.

Prudence and Lord Raikes entered together.
Prudence looked ill, while Lord Raikes was expressionless.

“Now you can tell us, we are all here,” Mr
Barker said irritably.

“The duchess has not yet arrived, and I am
expecting two more people to join us.”

Everyone assumed one of the two to be Lady
Babbage.