The Wicked Wager (7 page)

“Are you sure there is nothing else
bothering you? You can trust an old woman, and I am hardly a gossip. Someone
older than you may be able to advise you better.”

“I assure you, it is nothing, Lady
Babbage.”

Lady Babbage searched Emma’s face and shook
her head dissatisfied. She leaned over and patted her hand.

Emma was touched by the woman’s concern.
She may have judged the woman harshly. She was boring, one could not get away
from that fact, but she was kind as well. Emma gave her a genuine smile for the
first time.

She was wrong about Catherine not noticing
her stress. As soon as Catherine got Emma alone, she asked her what was wrong.

Emma had the urge to spill all her secrets.
But she had given her word to the earl, and Catherine may not find the entire
thing as entertaining as she hoped. They were, after all, lying to her father.
On the other hand Catherine would be right in scolding her, since deceiving the
duke was no longer fun.

“I must be missing Richard.” It was partly
true.

Catherine accepted her statement, confident
Emma would not hide anything from her. She had never been in love, and looking
at Emma’s face she wondered if it were worth all the trouble.

“The Barkers arrived this afternoon. Mamma
put them up in the guest rooms. They have been resting from the long journey
and will join us for dinner.”

Emma’s mood grew more depressed.

“Oh, can we not send them back?”

“I do not think we can put frogs in
Prudence’s bed anymore. We have no choice but to behave like ladies and let
them stay as long as they like.” She was quiet for a moment and then continued,
“I don’t understand why father says Sir Henry Barker is his good friend. I have
never seen them have a meaningful conversation, and I doubt the Barkers have an
ounce of intelligence between them to excite any interest in father.”

Emma glanced at Catherine. She had never
heard her cousin speak ill of anyone before. What had prompted that anger on
her face?

Catherine continued, “This last one year
when you left for London I realised that we had grown up. I could no longer
afford to have my head in the clouds. I started observing people in order to
get over my shyness. Once you know something intimately, then you lose your
fear of it. I am still learning and do not pretend to be an expert on human
behaviour. Since I have always been so quiet and lost, it is easier for people
who know me to let down their guard. I watched Mrs Barker today when they
arrived. You were taking a nap at the time, and I had gone to the library to
fetch a book. What I saw made me realise that some people are truly vicious.”

“What did you see?”

“I may be reading too much into it, and I
don’t want to tell you lest it colour your perception as well. Just observe her
today at dinner, and see if you notice anything odd. Try and forget her grating
voice, and for once listen to all she has to say. I would like your opinion
before being entirely convinced that I am right.”

Emma searched her cousin’s face
thoughtfully. She recalled the last time Prudence had joined them for an
extended stay. She had been a pest, making Catherine her target. She would pick
faults and criticize everything Cat did, often running to the duke with nasty
tales. She did not dare offend Emma because she knew Emma would not tolerate it
and would reciprocate in kind.

During the entire time that Prudence had
stayed with them, Catherine maintained her good humour. Yet now, within a day
of their arrival, her cousin looked decidedly vexed.

Mrs Barker had always seemed flighty like
her daughter. She was foolish yet harmless, so hearing her angelic cousin
describe Mrs Barker as vicious was astonishing, to say the least.

She was secretly delighted to see that
something could ruffle her cousin’s composure, though she wasn’t sure if she
should get enjoyment from something like this. Her own troubles now seemed less
severe, and the prospect of entertainment instead of a painful dinner had her
back in good humour.

***

The earl was still growling in frustration.
Every few minutes the entire encounter with the duke would rise before his eyes
and mock him. Very clever, he thought to himself irritably. Babble like a fool
in front of the duke to impress Emma. That was exactly what he was here for, to
make a complete and utter goose of himself and make the duke look grander than
King George.

He should pack his bags and return to his
home in London. He was a pathetic excuse of an earl, and all his fancy
schooling was more of a hindrance than a help. No matter how hard he tried his
lofty accents refuse to change into the cruder tone of a commoner. That was
another reason why the other servants made fun of him.

The only pleasure he got was the few
minutes stolen at his valet’s rooms where he ordered a bath and soaked himself
to the bone. Constantly bending over flower beds and stooping was making him
feel as old as the gardener he was impersonating. He slipped deeper into the
warm tub, wriggling his toes in pleasure.

His ego was thoroughly bruised. In fact it had
been trampled on, and heels had been dug in the particularly sore spots, over
and over again.

He recalled a horrid time in his life when
he had last felt this lost amongst strangers. He had been ten years old at the
time. His mother had hugged him tight and bawled all over him before dropping
him off at a prestigious boarding school, aptly named,
‘The Austere Academy
for Gentlemen'
.

His father had firmly told him that this
would be his new home for a while. Yet his young mind had refused to grasp the fact
that, after a day of playing with children his own age, he would not be going
home for the night. He had assumed his parents had been jesting.

By supper time he had enough. After being
served a sorry soup, soggy bread, and the worst tasting rice pudding in all of
England, the young earl could handle no more.

He threw down his spoons and let out an
outraged howl. He no longer cared if the other boys thought he was a baby for
crying. He bawled and cried, but no one seemed in the least interested. He was
petted by a teacher but told firmly that he would have to stay. The earl took
this as a challenge. The gauntlet had been thrown.

His full throated cry had set off a number
of youngsters, and while the teachers rushed to soothe the many screaming
children, the earl brushed off his tears and stood.
He squared his shoulders and slowly made his way towards the door. He gripped
the brass handle with his tiny hands and twisted with all his might. The door
groaned open, and he was off like a shot, making his way towards the main
entrance
. He was out in the gardens before the teachers realised what
had happened.

The guards noticed the earl running out of
the gate and attempted to stop the young lad.

The earl, using all his wiles, dodged the
guards by ducking below their arms and skidding between their legs.

He had a good start, and a number of
students emboldened by the sight of the running earl joined him in his cause.

The teachers ran helter-skelter catching
boys of various sizes, and in the confusion the earl cleverly climbed up an
apple tree on the outskirts of the school. He sat munching a juicy apple while
the entire school came out with torches to hunt down the deserter.

The dark worked to his advantage. The earl
was not discovered. He slipped down the tree when he deemed it safe and made
his way towards the main road. He used his pocket money to hitch a ride to his
home four hours away from the school.

His pitiful allowance would not have gotten
him so far, but the old farmer had a soft heart. He had luckily been going that
very route, and carrying the little tear stained boy would not put him out. He
gently wrapped a blanket around the boy and tucked him in at the back of the
cart.

The earl slept peacefully and only woke to
his mother’s horrified screeches.

He was deposited back to the school within
two days. Yet his success at outwitting the entire school had made him a hero
amongst the other boys. They looked at him in admiration.

His brilliant ideas of gluing teachers to chairs,
putting spiders in desks, and bribing servants for treats, to name a few,
bought him the loyalty and love of his classmates.

When he grew a little older, his status as
the heir to the Hamilton estate and earldom won him the respect of his peers. Apart
from his standing in society, the earl’s very nature endeared him to those
around him. His affability, charm, and his ever ready spark of mischief, made
it hard for others not to genuinely like him.
Except
for the occasional bouts of fisticuffs that was considered normal for any
growing healthy
boy, the earl led an easy life.

That easy life continued until he turned
eighteen, after which his parents died.

They had been traveling to Africa, and
their ship was caught in a storm and sank at sea. That was when he started
learning about responsibilities, but even then he had been treated well by his
peers.

Never in his life had he been teased so
mercilessly. Someone who had grown up with taunts might have had a better time
of it. They would have become immune to it, learnt to ignore the jibes or laugh
it off.

The earl was unaware of how to react, and
his angry outbursts delighted and encouraged his bullies. Living the life of a
servant was dreary and they found what joy they could in their games, however petty
or cruel.

Not everyone treated him badly he
acknowledged. The cook always kept the softest meat for him so his old teeth
would not suffer. The housekeeper kept a polite, respectful distance, and the
under-gardeners did not dare cross him as he was the one in charge.

However, the stable hands, Pickering the
butler, and the various other helpers around the estate, had no qualms in
taking pleasure in his annoyance.

The earl seethed quietly. He truly did not
want to stay on any longer. Yet perversely he wanted see the charade through
until the end and win this game. He was not a coward or a quitter. Once he made
up his mind, he always stuck to his decision with bullheaded doggedness.

He decided that he would start by taking
risks. The duke could discover his identity at any time, and he no longer had
the leisure to take things slow.

He would have his fun, since that was
exactly why he had started this whole thing in the first place. He could always
escape before the duke put him up on a donkey in a lady’s skirt.

A slow smile spread across his face as he
planned his next move.

“You are rapidly resembling a dried grape,
My Lord.”

The earl grinned as he stepped out of the
tub. He wanted to get right back to the Arden estate and put his plans into
action.

Emma walked into the dining room and was
momentarily stunned speechless. The guests were already seated, but she wished
they hadn’t been …

… Mrs Barker had her assets spilling out of
her scarlet gown, and a hysterical Emma wondered if the footman could balance
the soup plate on the gigantic breasts on display. Her upright position gave
her a splendid view down the never-ending depths of Mrs Barker’s ample bosom.

She hurried to take her seat beside
Catherine.

They caught each other’s eyes and stifled a
giggle. Catherine discreetly tilted her head towards her right. Emma glanced in
the direction indicated and once more forced her open mouth to close.

Prudence Barker sat in a deep pink gown,
wearing a hairdo that rivalled the Tower of London. Emma could scarcely see the
hovering servant behind the pile of curls. A massive teapot was placed
carefully in the nest of black curls.

“That is an interesting hairstyle,
Prudence,” remarked the duchess. Even she had been brought out of her haze by
the extraordinary vision.

“It is, isn’t it? It is all the rage in
France. Why, the Countess of Elridge, who as we all know is the very epitome of
fashion, had a ship perched atop her head. It is difficult to move one’s head
lest the tea dribble down and ruins one’s dress, but I think I have mastered
the art,” replied Prudence, pink with pleasure at the thought of creating such
a stir.

“Surely you do not need to fill the tea pot
with tea? It is not as if you are going to drink it, since it must be stone
cold by now. And getting it out of your hair must be a task in itself,”
commented the duke blandly.

“Oh, but if one does something, then one
must do it right,” chirped Mrs Barker. “My daughter has been out long enough to
know what is deemed proper,” she finished, glancing meaningfully at Catherine.

Catherine, to give her credit, did not
change colour but smiled back amiably. Her own hair was brushed back into an
elegant, low coif.

They paused briefly while the soup was
served. Once the servers departed, Mrs Barker leaned forward and once again
addressed the duke,

“I did not want to wear such a bold colour
tonight, My Lord, I mean,” she said simpering, “I am too old to wear such
things, but Poo Poo
positively insisted, she would have it no other
way.”