A Game of Chance (Rogues and Laces)

by Regina Darcy

  “He is, at least, only a few years older than you,” the Duke said, walking towards the door. “You can be grateful for that, Nora. And I expect you to do just as I ask, else it will be all the worse for you. Do not test me on this, Nora.”

  His voice was hard, his eyes flashing, and Nora felt a jolt of fear that forced her to sit bolt upright, her chin lifted as she nodded quickly. She knew full well that her father was furious still over Alice’s disappearance and was doing all he could to find her, even though that had not, as yet, been successful. Nora dared not ask what it was he intended to do if she refused. Her heart already quailed at the thought of marrying a gentleman she did not know nor care for.

  “The Marquess of Fareshire will be visiting at the end of the week, for dinner,” the Duke continued, opening the door. “Ensure you spend that day in preparation. You must look your best.”

  “Yes, Father,” Nora replied meekly, managing to keep her gaze steady as her father nodded. The door closed firmly behind him with a loud thud that had her jumping in surprise.

  It was only when he had quit the room that Nora finally gave in to her tears. She broke down completely, as she cried over her father’s lack of care for her. She was quite alone now, without any one of her sisters by her side, and that tore at her soul. There was nothing she could do and no one she could turn to. She had no money and no prospects, were she to set out on her own. And, even though Alice and Lord Lester had offered to take her in once they were settled, Nora knew that by then, it would be much too late. Perhaps that was why her father had done such a thing, desperate to ensure that she had no opportunity to go to her sister for aid.

  Her tears clung to her cheeks as she folded her arms on the edge of the table and lowered her head, trying desperately to keep her sobs as quiet as she could for fear that the Duke would return and chastise her for being so melodramatic. The Marquess of Fareshire, whoever he was, could not be a good man, not when he had so willingly accepted the bet her father had placed.

  She could just imagine him now, delighting in the fact that he was to marry the daughter of a duke and, even more so, the daughter of his political rival. Nora’s father had always been interested in politics, given that he had a great deal of clout, but this marquess, whoever he was, clearly took pleasure in arguing against whatever the Duke said. Once again, she was to be used as a mere pawn in another man’s game. Her marriage to the Marquess would be used as a means to mock her father, to laugh at him for losing something supposedly so precious in a game of cards.

  Except, Nora knew she was not precious to her father. In fact, she was not precious to anyone. She was ignored and forgotten, worth nothing to either her father or to this man she was to marry.

  Pain sliced through her heart, making it hard for her to breathe as she pushed herself away from the table, forcing herself to stand as her fingers clung to the edge of the table, steadying herself.

  “No,” she whispered aloud, her brows furrowing. “No, Nora. You do not need to do this. You do not have to give in.”

  Everything in her screamed that yes, she did have to do exactly what her father had said, that she had no one and nowhere to turn, but still something in her refused to accept this as truth.

  Looking up, she wiped her eyes and moved away from the table, still feeling a little unsteady. Walking to the dining room window, she let her eyes linger on the streets below, seeing the people walking here and there, each caught up in their own lives.

  “I have to try,” she said to herself, even though a great stab of fear tore through her heart. “I have to try and think of a way out of this. Surely, there must be something I can do!”

  There was no quick answer, no bolt of lightening that flashed an idea into her mind, but still Nora let her resolve grow. This marquess might think that he was marrying a daughter of a duke, but he would learn that she was not easily inclined to give her consent. And as for her father…

  “Let me be strong,” Nora whispered, closing her eyes and remembering the happiness on her sister’s face as Lord Lester had come for her. “Let me find a new path. A path that leads me towards a life I can call my own.”

  Chapter Three

  “Where, in heavens name, has that wretched boy gone this time?”

  Edward, Marquess of Fareshire, planted his hands on his hips and looked all about him, growing more and more irritated.

  “I can’t quite say, my lord,” said the manservant looking distressed. “One moment he was by your side and then next…”

  Edward clenched his teeth, well aware that it was not the manservant’s fault that Edward’s young nephew, Charles Hastings, had disappeared, but he grew frustrated nonetheless. “I thought I told him to stay directly by my side,” he muttered, half to himself, “and yet that child continues to do exactly what I ask him not to! It is as though he wishes to put himself in disfavour with me!”

  The manservant did not say anything but did shuffle his feet just a little. It was not exactly a good place to lose one’s charge, near to the docks in a rather unsavoury part of London, but Edward had promised Charles that he would bring him to see the ships at the dock. Charles had, of course, promised not to run off, but of course, he had done so regardless, leaving Edward more than a little frustrated.

  “Wretched boy,” he said again, passing one hand over his eyes. “Very well then, I suppose we must search.” The driver had to stay with the carriage, of course, but there were the two grooms and himself, which meant that the three of them could spread out amongst the docks. Edward strode off in one direction, shouting orders to the grooms.

  He tried unsuccessfully to ignore the worry seeping into his mind.

  They were near the docks, and seven-year-old Charles was a rather precocious child – certainly not one to consider danger or his own personal safety. He would, most likely, be peering over the edge into the sea somewhere, if not trying to climb the rigging on one of the ships docked nearby.

  Edward felt a cold hand of fear clasp over his heart. This child was the only link to Edward’s late brother, Hugh, and as such, Edward was desperately fond of him. Hugh and his wife had died some years ago, when the child had only been but two years of age, and ever since then, Charles had come under Edward’s care. The child was mischievous, daring, and rather foolish, but still Edward could not pretend that he did not care a very great deal for the boy.

  Hurrying forward, he began to call out the boy’s name, not caring if he drew attention to himself or not. The docks could be a somewhat dangerous place, of course, but he did not feel in any way unsafe, being highly skilled with both sword and pistol – the latter he currently carried on his person.

  “Charles?” he shouted, running one hand though his dark hair. “Charles!”

  There came no answer. A few rather irritated looking men lingered in the shadows, shooting him dark glances as he passed. Most of them held bottles in their hands, and Edward could smell the liquor coming from them. It was almost as though he had to walk through a cloud of the stuff before the air grew a little clearer again, although still filled with salt.

  “Charles?” he called again, his eyes searching every nook and cranny. “Where are you, my boy?”

  His nephew had always been inclined to go exploring by himself, without any consideration for Edward’s instructions. Edward had always taken very great care to watch over him with a sharp eye, had insisted that the boy stay within arm’s reach, and still on occasion, the boy managed to disappear. Nothing Edward did or said seemed to make any difference, and given that he could not exactly keep the boy hostage indoors, Edward had been forced to take him on the occasional outing. But always with an extra groom or footman to help keep an eye on the child. This had meant, of course, that Charles had not been able to escape with the ease he had before, which had brought Edward a modicum of relief.

  But today’s incident now proved that Charles was able to escape regardless. Edward tried not to allow visions of his nephew in the sea fill his mind, hating
the thought of the boy struggling to reach the surface. His feet quickened their steps as he moved quickly through the docks, his heart pounding as urgency filled him. He had to find his nephew before something dreadful happened.

  “Oh, my goodness!”

  The faint sound of a woman’s voice made its way towards him, forcing him to pause. His gaze travelling from left to right, Edward looked to see where the voice had come from, only to see nothing but crates and nets in his line of vision.

  “Be careful!”

  The cry was louder and a little more frantic, which was then soon followed by a small scream. Spurred into action, Edward hurried forward through the docks, his eyes still unable to see a single sign of his nephew or the lady who was calling out.

  “Charles?” he shouted, rounding a huge pile of crates and coming across what appeared to be a rather refined young lady who was grasping onto a large mooring post whilst she bent at the knee. She was leaning over the edge of the dock, clearly looking down at something Edward could not see.

  He did not have to ask. He was quite sure it was Charles.

  “I have you,” he heard the young lady cry, her hand now white on the mooring post. “Don’t struggle now. I’ll get you up.”

  It was quite clear to Edward that the lady did not have enough strength to lift up Charles from where he was hanging and, hurrying forward, saw that two small hands were clinging to the lady’s arm.

  Upon his approach, she glanced up at him, relief etched on her features as he came near. “Oh, thank goodness,” she whispered, her face white and strained. “Help me, please.”

  Edward could not speak, his heart in his throat as he looked down to see Charles dangling from the lady’s arm. His little face was white, fear shining through his eyes.

  “Uncle,” Charles whispered, as Edward bent down to grasp the boy’s arm, taking the weight from the young lady. “I– I’m sorry.”

  “Never mind that now,” Edward muttered, hauling Charles up. “Let’s just get you up.”

  Within a few moments, Edward and the lady managed to pull the boy back up onto the dock, with Edward stumbling back as Charles fell into his arms. The lady, however, did not fare so well. Relieved of her burden, her arm slipped from the mooring post, and she stumbled back, managing to hit her head on a pile of crates just behind her.

  However, this was not something Edward managed to see, being entirely focused on his nephew. Looking down into Charles’s white face, Edward saw that tears that had already formed in the boy’s eyes, his lower lip trembling.

  He could not find it within himself to be angry. Instead, he held his nephew tightly for a moment, awash with relief as he battled the lump growing steadily in his throat, his eyes squeezing tightly shut. “You will never run from me again, do you hear?” he said hoarsely, as the boy began to cry into his shoulder. “I could have lost you, Charles. I could have lost…” He trailed off, his throat becoming too painful to speak. He could not allow himself to think about what might have occurred, should that lady, that blessed lady, have not been there to save Charles.

  “I am sorry, Uncle,” Charles sobbed into Edward’s chest. “I am truly sorry. I will never leave your side again.”

  Edward simply sat quietly for a long time, holding the boy in his arms. It was not until the sounds of running feet and the voice of his manservant drew near that he managed to open them, looking up gratefully to see his men there.

  “He is found,” Edward said, as the manservant helped Edward and Charles to their feet. “And quite all right, thank goodness.”

  “My lord!”

  Turning, Edward saw to his horror that the young lady who had saved Charles was lying haphazardly against a few crates and what appeared to be some large sacks. There was no expression on her pale face, and it appeared as though she was sleeping, her eyes gently closed.

  “Knocked out, my lord,” Edward’s head groom said, as Edward gave Charles into the care of the other groom, telling him to go straight to the carriage. “Was she here with you?”

  Edward’s chest tightened. “She saved Charles,” he said hoarsely. “I came upon them both when I was searching for the boy. Had she not been here then…” Shaking his head, he bent down to look into the lady’s face a little more carefully, surprised to see that she was younger than he had expected. In fact, given the quality of her gown, gloves, and bonnet, he would have expected her not to be without a chaperone and certainly not to be anywhere near the docks on her own.

  “What should we do, my lord?” the manservant asked, sounding rather anxious. “I–”

  “I will carry her,” Edward said firmly, quite determined that he would not leave the lady who had saved his nephew alone. “Once home, we will send for the doctor.”

  “There is no sign of blood,” the manservant added cautiously, as Edward carefully lifted the lady into his arms. “That has to be a good sign, does it not?”

  Edward nodded. “I must find out who she is,” he murmured to himself, walking towards the carriage. “I can never thank her enough.”

  ***

  One hour later and the lady had still not awoken, causing Edward to become even more anxious. Charles, with a great many tears and even more apologies, had been borne away by the housekeeper, with the promise that he would be bathed, fed, and put straight to bed.

  This was one of the times Edward was glad he had retained the services of Charles’s nurse, aware that she would be both stern and understanding, sympathetic yet unrelenting. Charles would be given yet another stern talking to, and mayhap this time, he would finally understand what was expected of him.

  “The doctor is here, my lord,” murmured the footman, as Edward turned from the doorway that led into the drawing room. “Shall I take him in?”

  Edward nodded and gestured to the doctor to go into the drawing room where the young lady lay, being well looked after by a few of Edward’s maids. He did not want to break propriety and so had made sure that the girl was always accompanied by another of his staff at all times and ensured that he also kept a decent distance.

  “A hit on the head, you think?” the doctor asked, looking back at him with sharp grey eyes.

  Edward nodded. “I did not see precisely what happened, but yes, I believe that is what occurred.” The doctor, tall and rather wiry with a shock of grey and white hair, looked down at the unnamed lady with a look of surprise on his face.

  “A lady of quality, it would seem!” he exclaimed, looking back at Edward. “I thought you found her at the docks.”

  Realising that his footman must have mentioned something about where they had come across the girl, Edward nodded.

  “Yes, I did. I have no notion of how she got there or who she is, but she saved my nephew from falling off the dock and into the sea. In doing so, I believe she must have stumbled back and hit her head. She has not awoken since then.”

  The doctor nodded sagely, now appearing a little more concerned upon realising that this was not, in fact, a street urchin or lady of the night, but was clearly a lady of good birth.

  “I believe she will come too soon, then,” the doctor said calmly. “She may be a little incoherent for a couple of days but nothing too serious, I am sure. Do excuse me, Lord Fareshire.”

  Seeing that the doctor wanted some space to treat his patient, Edward nodded and excused himself, stepping back out into the hallway and closing the door. He hoped that the good doctor was correct and that it would not be long before he knew her name and could thank her, most profusely, for all that she had done.

  Chapter Four

  Something was stinging at her nostrils. Something acrid and foul. Trying to turn her head away, Nora felt a wall of pain hit her hard, making her catch her breath.

  “There we are,” an unfamiliar voice said soothingly. “You’re quite all right, my dear. Just a bit of a bump on the head.”

  Nora tried to speak but found that she couldn’t. Her throat felt raw and painful, her eyes still squeezed tightly together. />
  “Take your time,” said the voice calmly. “You’ve been through a lot, from what I hear.”

  With an effort, Nora managed to blink a few times before finally squinting up at the face that lingered over hers. Her heart began to pound rapidly as she saw a kind man look back at her, his expression somewhat delighted.

  “There, back to yourself, just as I thought,” he said, taking away something that appeared to be smelling salts. “I hear you did something quite wonderful, Miss…?”

  “Lady Eleanor Drake,” she managed to say, trying to sit up and struggling to make sense of what was going on. “Where am I?”

  The doctor smiled and helped her to sit up carefully, seemingly aware of how her head began to swim immediately. “Careful, now,” he said with a gentle smile. “You knocked your head after rescuing some boy or other.” He tilted his head. “Do you recall anything about that?”

  It all came back to Nora in a moment. Of course, there had been a young boy running heedlessly amongst the crates, nets, and sacks that littered the docks, and she had seen him slip and fall. How she’d managed to reach him, she did not know, but she had found herself grasping one of his hands, whilst his other had clung to the edge of the dock. It had all seemed to happen so slowly and yet so quickly at the same time.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “I do recall.” Her head hurt most dreadfully, and she put one hand up to where it now throbbed, horrified to discover a rather large bump hidden underneath her hair.

  “Do you remember falling over, Lady Drake?” the doctor asked softly. “I do believe it was quite soon after the boy was saved.”

  No, she did not remember falling but she did recall, with startling clarity, the gentleman who had suddenly appeared by her side. “There was a gentleman,” she said quietly, staring at the ornate carpet by her feet. “I do not think I know him, however. He seemed to recognise the boy.”