The Wicked Wager (9 page)

“A duke is bound to have million problems.
I don’t think we should worry ourselves over anything other than our own
concerns. After all, he seems to have hired a professional to sort it out for
him. We cannot do anything more.”

“I suppose,” said Emma doubtfully.

“Come, it is time for bed.”

Seeing her horrified face he laughed.

“I meant, you go to your bed, and I shall
go to mine. Don’t worry, your virtue is safe … at least for the moment,” he
added wickedly.

Emma turned away in a huff and made her way
back to her room. The earl left for the servants’ staircase hidden in the
hallway. He stole a quick kiss before letting her escape.

Emma blew out the candle and slipped into
bed. She felt a pang of pity for the earl, who would be sleeping on a hard,
flea infested mattress. She put her feet on the hot bricks and reviewed the
night in her mind.

The letter the duke had written worried
her. He had sounded unlike himself, pleading for information from the unknown
Nutters. Emma would have never guessed anything was bothering the duke. He
seemed so calm and in control. No matter how many times she repeated the words
in her head, she could not guess what the duke could have possibly meant. She
sighed and closed her eyes.

Her last thought was not of the duke, or
even Mrs Barker and her antics, but the earl’s face leaning in close to kiss
her.

***

Emma woke the next morning with a pounding
headache and feeling tired from lack of sleep.

She went to the breakfast room dreading
hearing the shrill tones of Mrs Barker and her daughter Prudence. She clutched
her sore head and prayed they were still in bed but was disappointed …

Mrs Barker sat sipping tea and having a
whispered conversation with Lady Babbage. Prudence and Catherine sat silently
eating eggs on toast.

Prudence was not a morning person, and she
would thankfully not utter a sound until she had consumed her chocolate and
three cups of tea.

Emma fetched herself a slice of dry toast
and a cup of coffee before joining them.

The duchess was still in bed as she never
came down for breakfast. She had explained to Emma that spirits were most active
at night, and she could not afford to sleep when there was so much to be
learned from them. The duke would have already breakfasted and would be in his
study.

Catherine surreptitiously glanced at Lady
Babbage and then nodded a greeting to Emma. Emma understood the brief look; she
did not need words to interpret what Catherine was trying to convey.

It was odd to see two such different
personalities involved so deeply in conversation. They refrained from saying
anything aloud, since Prudence sat a few feet away. They
finished their
breakfast in silence, which was finally broken by Prudence.

“What shall we do today? I do not feel like
riding down to the village. It looks as if it is going to rain.”

“A stroll in the garden?” suggested
Catherine.

“Alright,” Prudence replied grudgingly.

Her tone suggesting that she would rather
be paying calls in London than be cooped up in the country.

Emma forced herself to calm down. There was
no point in getting angry with Prudence. Even if she said anything, it would
likely sail over her head.

They set out for their walk, and Lady
Babbage trailed behind with her sewing basket. Emma soon left the party behind
and made her way to the old gardener mucking about in the vegetable patch.

“Nice day.”

The earl grinned and said,

“It looks like it is going to rain.”

“Yes, but once it does rain, the roses will
moisten and the scent of them will be divine,” replied Emma.

“A girl after my own heart, who appreciates
the scent of wet earth and drenched flowers.”

“What are you planting?”

“This right here, miss, is the herb patch.
I am going to plant some mint and rosemary.”

“You will be a handy husband. We can let
the head gardener go and let you take care of the grounds. See, I am already
thinking like a wife and economizing.”

“I don’t think I could look at another leaf
without shuddering in future. Studying a text is rather different from the
actual work involved. I am going to double my gardener’s salary once I am home.
By god, the man deserves it.” He paused to put away his spade, “Do you think
you can walk to the apple orchard and meet me where we met last time?”

“I am not sure,” said Emma hesitatingly,
glancing back. Prudence and Catherine were fast approaching.

“Try,” he coaxed.

“Oh, alright, you go on ahead, I will meet
you in a moment.”

Emma waited for the earl to hobble away
before turning to greet her cousin and Prudence.

“We are going back inside. I think I felt a
drop,” said Prudence, staring up at the grey sky.

“I have a mind to pick some apples, and
then I will join you. Cat, are you going to stay?”

“I think you should come back with us,
Emma, you know father doesn’t like us walking alone.”

“Oh, what can happen to me in broad
daylight? These are his grounds, after all. I shall be perfectly safe.”

Catherine stood uncertainly until a great
big drop on her nose decided her.

“Hurry, I don’t want you to get wet and
catch your death.”

“I won’t be a minute, you go on. You will
see me before you reach the house.”

Catherine nodded, and taking Prudence’s arm
she started walking back to the house. Emma noticed Lady Babbage doing the
same, and with a sigh of relief quickly made her way towards the Orchard.

The earl stood waiting on the outskirts.
The rain started falling in earnest, and she was about to start running towards
the apple trees, when through the sheet of rain, she noticed the duke standing
and watching her approach the gardener.

The earl had noticed the duke as well. She
stood torn for a moment, and then changed her direction, moving towards the
rose garden instead. She pretended not to see the duke. She took that route to
wind her way back towards the mansion.

The earl, meanwhile, had disappeared into
the orchard.

“That man,” moaned the earl aloud, “will be
the death of me.”

Catherine watched Emma run past her soaked
to the bone. She stopped a passing maid and asked her to bring a pot of tea to
Emma’s room. Her cousin had always loved the outdoors, and she often had to
drag her back inside.

She shook her head exasperated. They were no
longer children, and her cousin should start taking better care of herself.
Emma was a nightmare to deal with when she had the slightest sniffle.

She made her way to her father’s study. Her
father always kept some brandy at hand for medicinal purposes. A shot of brandy
in Emma’s tea would do her a world of good.

The duke’s study was open, and Catherine
paused outside. She could hear voices inside, and she wondered if she should
disturb the duke. He often had visitors who came to him with confidential problems.
Being the duke, he was meant to help and solve those issues.

She turned to leave when Mrs Barker’s voice
arrested her. Mrs Barker was speaking to the duke in urgent tones. Catherine
stood, torn between going in and rescuing her father or listening to what was
being said.

A year ago she would have walked away, but
recently parts of her personality she never knew existed seemed to be coming
out.

Instead of leaving or even interrupting the
conversation, she felt a thrill go through her as she deliberately inched
forward to hear them speak. She hoped Mrs Barker was being put in her place,
and she wanted to catch every word if that were the case.

She heard Mrs Barker speak,

“You know what I am offering. You are an
intelligent man, you can’t expect me to spell it out.”

A brief silence indicated that the duke had
refused to answer. Mrs Barker spoke again, and this time her tone was pleading,

“We both are unhappy … and I cannot forget
…”

Catherine strained her ears in frustration;
Mrs Barker had started whispering, and she could no longer hear her words.

The duke finally spoke loudly and clearly,
“I have work to do, and I do not want to discuss this any further. Please do
not embarrass either of us, Mrs Barker. Catherine, you may come in.”

Catherine jumped guiltily. She entered the
study and found a red faced Mrs Barker, while the duke looked angry. She
realised he had seen her reflection in the Venetian mirror hanging over the
fire place.

In her eagerness to be naughty for once she
had forgotten about that. She silently cursed and glanced apologetically at her
father. He smiled slightly in response and asked,

“You wanted something?”

“Some brandy for Emma. She got caught in
the rain, and I don’t want her to fall ill.”

The duke silently opened the drawer in his
desk and handed her a flask. His eyes twinkled, and Catherine blushed at being
caught doing something as childish as eavesdropping. She quickly snatched the
bottle and left.

***

The mood in the house had changed
considerably with the onset of rain. The duchess looked even more distracted
than usual. She kept muttering to herself and forgot to pour the tea, in spite
of being prompted by Catherine five times.

Prudence was disgusted to be hidden away in
the country, bemoaning the fact that the season was over. She had exhausted the
topic of how many men had asked her to marry them and how she had turned each
one of them down. She had nothing more to offer.

Emma was worried about being caught walking
alone once again by the duke and him possibly realising that her goal had been
to meet the gardener. Lady Babbage gave her a sympathetic look but did not ask
her to confide again. Emma was grateful and sat by the old lady, finding her
silence and the rhythmic click of needles soothing.

She kept waiting for the duke to call her
into his study and demand an explanation. But the entire evening and dinner
went by, and the duke behaved as though nothing was out of place. He did seem
more thoughtful, and now that Emma knew to look for signs, she noticed the
tired lines around his mouth. She felt slightly guilty for adding to his
troubles.

Mrs Barker had resumed flirting with the
duke the moment he had stepped into the dining room. Mr Barker seemed to have
gone back to enjoying his meals and was unaware of the mounting tension in the
air.

The duke looked grimmer and grimmer as the
meal progressed, while Catherine was getting distressed and embarrassed. Lady
Babbage’s attempts to steer the conversation to more neutral avenues was
getting more frequent and desperate.

Mrs Barker showed her considerable skill by
turning the discussion of cabbage soup into an invitation for the duke to join
her in bed.

Emma was shocked and joined Catherine in
her mortification. She wondered how long it would be before the duke lost his
patience.

Yet no one spoke a word of admonishment the
entire night. Everyone felt it was not their place to say something. The only
person who had that right was Mr Barker, who seemed immune to his wife’s
blatant flirtation with another man.

Emma thought the man was secretly hoping
that the duke would take her off his hands. It must be a nightmare living day
in and day out with such a person.

Everyone retired to their rooms feeling dissatisfied
and troubled.

Emma once again got ready to steal into the
duke’s study. She was disappointed that the earl didn’t join her. She repeated
the process of the night before and didn’t find a single letter mentioning the
gardener. Surprised, she turned in for the night. She knew the duke had not
forgotten. She would have to continue her nightly investigations.

***

“I have a wonderful plan.”

Emma groaned. In spite of the duke’s
suspicions, she had still searched out the earl and once again stood by a
flower bed. Catherine and Prudence were seated on a stone bench not far away.
This gave her considerable more time with the earl.

“I do not like your plans.”

“It’s just a tweak in the already existing
plan.”

“What is it?” she asked worriedly

“You are going to romance the gardener.”

“Uh? Have your wits been addled? Have you
inhaled the fumes of some odd fertilizer that is turning your brain into
flea-mint?”

“Think about it, Em, if the duke sees you
spending a lot of time with an old man like me, then he may want to speed up
this entire marriage issue.”

“He would never believe that I am having an
affair with a commoner old enough to be my father.”

“A lot of women like older men, and how is
he to know what your taste runs to? It would make him sit up and take another
look at this entire delaying the wedding situation. I mean, if you are falling
all over yourself for an ancient gap toothed man, then a year is a long time
for you to fall for any sort and slip up.”