Louisa nearly fell out of her chair, the thought that her father would actually wager her in a card game with the Duke appalled her. He was attempting to pawn her future, all for the chance to get back his holdings. And the Duke! He was the lowest of the low to have suggested an illicit liaison with her as a wager. At least this mad wager would be derailed now, since Louisa was certain that the Duke would never agree to her father’s proposal. Why, she should unmask herself right now to shame the both of them, and embarrass the Duke by revealing that he was being beaten at the gaming tables by a woman.
“Done,” the Duke replied, his expression giving nothing away to what he was thinking as everyone in the room let out its collective breath. Louisa was aghast. She had just been added to the kitty by her father. Worse yet, the Duke had agreed to marry her if he won. She could not let this happen.
“Doesn’t he know that the virtue will come with the wedding night?” one of the men standing behind her whispered loudly, leaning down and elbowing her side as he chortled. A crowd had formed around them from the other tables when they had heard the commotion. “She must be right the looker for the Duke to risk his freedom.”
Louisa swallowed hard, searching for something that would put a stop to this madness. His freedom? Ha. What about her freedom? Had she not been present tonight, she would have learned after it was too late to stop this travesty. She caught the eye of Thomas, who looked just as surprised as she felt. His eyes widened in a questioning gaze, as he shrugged slightly, wondering what to do next.
Spying the uncorked decanter of brandy sitting on the table, precariously close to the oil lamp, Louisa stood abruptly, jolting the table with her sudden movement. Reaching across, she let her arm knock the bottle over in a gesture to appear as if she was reaching to scoop up her winnings, toppling both the bottle and the lamp over at the same time. Immediately, the oil flame caught the alcohol and the table erupted in fire, all of the men around it jumping up to avoid the disaster. She moved swiftly to Thomas. “Come,” she said, pulling on his arm. “We need to get my father out of here.”
Thomas grabbed the Baron’s arm as he was rising from his chair and Louisa took his other arm, forcing the older man toward the entrance and out into the street where shouts erupted from the chaos inside the building. “What are you doing?” the Baron demanded as Louisa hailed a hackney and forced him inside with Thomas’s help. “I demand you both stop at once!”
“Baron, we must get you away from this place,” Thomas replied as he helped Louisa’s father onto the seat before taking the empty space next to Louisa, the Baron still none the wiser about the identity of Thomas’ companion. The hackney took off down the street and Louisa’s heart pounded in her ears, the events of the last few minutes still rushing through her. Her plan had been working so well before her father had arrived. Louisa slumped against the seat, pulling out the crumpled notes from her pockets. Though she had won a great deal of money tonight with the pin money she had saved over the years, it was nowhere near enough to keep them out of danger for long.
Her father’s voice had held desperation when he had offered her up to the Duke, a man driven by the need to win. If she weren't careful, he would end up ruining them both.
“Montrose is a disgrace,” the Baron was muttering, his expression darkening. “He will rue the day that he has crossed me!”
“Calm yourself, old man,” Thomas said with a sigh as Louisa bit her lip. “What were you thinking with that wager?”
“My darling Louisa,” the Baron muttered. “Either I would have won back our fortune, or she would have become a Duchess. Either way, she would have been safe and well taken care of.” His head lolled and drooped to his chest, the alcohol and events of the evening finally overcoming him. “I did it for her,” he mumbled as he slumped into the corner of the hackney.
They reached home and the hackney stopped. Louisa scrambled out ahead of her father, making eye contact with Thomas who nodded in silent understanding. Taking the sidewalk to the back entrance and through the servant’s door, Louisa hurried upstairs while Thomas slowly escorted the Baron into the front door of his home, still totally oblivious to the identity of the young gambler.
Louisa removed her disguise and donned her night dress, then climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up close under her chin. She was still shaking from the experience and it was several minutes before her heart rate returned to normal. Her father had wagered her hand in a game and she had been so angry with him she nearly screamed. But he had done it to protect her, as misguided as his actions were.
The Duke of Montrose had actually said yes to a wager of marriage. What if she had not stopped the game? Would she be planning her wedding now or would she and her father be returning to solvency. As it was now, she still had a monumental problem to solve.
Chapter 8
“I cannot believe you went through with it, Louisa! Were you not scared?”
Louisa considered her timid friend. Rebecca was a rule follower who would never act out of character for a lady. The two best friends had spent the better part of the evening in a corner, whispering, as Louisa told Rebecca the events of the previous evening. Thomas had filled his sister in but Rebecca insisted on hearing the entire story again directly from Louisa.
The society pages had been bursting with information that morning. And while the very detailed account of the game was almost word for word, and the names were reduced to just first initials, it was was easy enough for any reader remotely familiar with social standings to decipher who was involved. The column had read:
This writer cannot believe the audacity that the Duke of M would even suggest that a woman’s virtue be reduced to a set of cards. Has he not any decency to treat a woman of the ton with more respect? We all are aware that Miss B has had her fair share of interesting encounters as of late, but she well deserves more than to be handed over to a man by way of a game of cards. What a shame that the new Duke of M would dishonor the memory of his late father who was always a gentleman.
Louisa had quit reading at that point. She had come within a hairsbreadth of becoming the Duchess of Montrose, married to a man who had been the reason for her family’s ruination in the first place. “’Twas what I had to do, Becca,” she replied finally, looking out over the dance floor sullenly. “And it was working until my father stumbled in. I was winning easily.” She was quite pleased with her skills at the table, she had to admit.
“Well, I would have been frightened to death,” Rebecca announced, looking at her with a horrified expression on her face. “You could have ruined your reputation had you been found out.”
“I know, but Thomas was there to assist me if needed. And I was glad to be there considering what happened,” Louisa defended herself, although she was not entirely convinced that the diversion she caused to interrupt the proceedings was the best outcome, all things considered. “Can you imagine what would have happened if my father had played that hand?”
“Marriage to the Duke of Montrose?” Rebecca said, a dreamy expression on her face. “I would think it could have been worse, Louisa. He is a very handsome man and he is well positioned at that.”
Just what Louisa needed. Rebecca reminding her that she had been moments away from solving her family’s dilemma. She cursed the day she had danced with the Duke and the conflicting feelings it had stirred within her.
The Duke was handsome. A tall, solid man with those arresting eyes that had her stomach doing all sorts of flips as he sat across the gaming table from her last night. She had watched him under her hooded gaze, his deft hands holding his cards, his long fingers pushing money toward the pile. She remembered the warm touch of those fingers on her waist when they danced the waltz. Damn him! Despite everything he had done to her family and to her, she could not help but be fascinated by him.
“There you are!” Thomas approached the girls who were still chattering in a corner of the room, heads together. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Louisa.”
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Louisa curtsied in mock deference to her protector from the previous evening. “Good evening, my lord,” she said a little too loudly, then blushed.
Thomas came closer to them and lowered his voice. “I have received an invitation to attend a private table tomorrow evening,” he said. “The invitation is extended to me … and my friend, Noah, the heir to the Viscount Wembly.”
Louisa sucked in her breath. “Whaaa . . . .,” she hissed.
“It seems that Chalmers is most anxious to win back some of the money you, er … he …” Thomas bit his tongue, his head darting from side to side to ensure they were not overheard. “Chalmers has invited a group for a private game. He requests the presence of those who were in attendance last night.”
Rebecca grabbed her brother’s arm, and said, “You will have to send regrets on behalf of Lord Wembly. Say he has returned to the country.”
“Wait a minute,” said Louisa. Thomas and Rebecca turned to look at her. Rebecca furrowed her brow, worried by what scheme her friend was planning to hatch now.
Louisa continued. “I won a significant amount of money last night, but it is not nearly enough to save us from ruin. We must get back the title to the estate in Scotland as it provides the bulk of our income.”
Thomas said, “How would you win it back, Louisa? The Duke showed no signs last night of wagering the land title. His reputation is to play for a small, fixed sum and leave the game if he loses it.”
Louisa knew that Thomas was right. Her father might foolishly bet everything he owned, but the Duke showed no signs of a similar weakness.
“You could convince him to risk the estate, Thomas!” Louisa had an idea forming and began to speak excitedly. “Everyone knows that our families are close. I know I can win enough outright to take whatever stake the Duke plans to wager for the evening. When he stands up to leave, you can provoke him to put up the land. It means nothing to him, and giving my father’s friend a chance to win it back on his behalf is the least he can do after insulting both my father and me last night.”
Thomas raised his hand to his chin and rubbed it, his head slowly nodding. As he thought through the idea, he slowly said, “Not bad. It could work.”
“No, Thomas,” said Rebecca. “It is too dangerous. What if Chalmers wins the title? He is the most greedy land owner in the county. If he gets his hands on that title, you will never get it back, Louisa.”
“Wembly will accept that invitation,” said Louisa. Rebecca knew that her friend’s proclamation was final when she saw Louisa’s set jaw and determined eyes.
“Montrose is here,” said Thomas, nodding in the direction of the Duke and Harrison as they sauntered into the room, all eyes upon them.
Grayson scanned the crowd, noting how many pairs of eyes were following his every move. He, too, had read the society pages after last evening's course of events, frustrated that a moment of unfocused attention when he flippantly blurted out a ridiculous wager could have such an impact on his life.
“I believe you are the most notorious member of the ton tonight, Grayson,” Harrison remarked as they stood near the dance floor. “Perhaps you should do something scandalous more often. I am quite enjoying your disrepute.” He smirked, clearly enjoying the Duke’s discomfort.
“I do not know why we are friends,” Grayson responded, mildly annoyed that his friend seemed to enjoy his unease. He searched the crowd hoping to discover a familiar face. She had to have heard about the bet between himself and the Baron, and he did not think she would be one to shy away from idle gossip. At the very least, he had expected her to confront him, yet she was nowhere to be found.
“We are friends because currently, old boy, no one else wants to be associated with you,” Harrison said dryly, slapping him on the back. “So, who will be the lucky woman tonight that gets a dance with the infamous Duke of Montrose?”
Grayson clenched his jaw and looked about the crowd, noting how everyone was glowering at him tonight. Damn the Baron and his hide. This unexpected turn of events had proven to be an unfortunate lapse of judgement on Grayson’s part. Not that he cared what the ton thought of him. What he did care about was the young woman who he could not get off his mind and any anguish he may have caused her from his insensitive actions.
“I will dance with no one tonight,” he finally declared, stalking out of the hall and into the cold, dark night.
Chapter 9
“The Duchess of Montrose,” his butler announced.
Grayson looked from his morning paper to see his mother burst through the doors behind his butler, an angered expression on her face. “How dare you destroy the good name that your father built for us! Have you no decency?”
“Good morning, Mother,” Grayson said politely, lowering his paper to the table. He had hoped for a peaceful morning breakfast after his restless evening, but a visit from his mother guaranteed it would be anything but peaceful. He and his mother had always been close, but Grayson was trying to put more distance between them. She was trying to control his life and he would not have it, much as he respected her. No doubt, she had seen the society pages from the last few days. “You are looking lovely. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
She stood before him, her expression stony. He was the Duke now, but she was still his mother and would scold him when she found his behavior deplorable, even if he was a grown man. “You have disgraced this family, Grayson, by propositioning an innocent young woman! Your father would be beside himself if he were alive to see this take place!”
“You do not have all the facts, mother. Only what the scandal sheets chose to report for pure sensationalism.”
“So you are telling me that you did not propose a wager for the virtue of the Baron of Grimsey’s daughter after having ruined him financially?” she asked. The Duchess sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. She selected a sugar cube with silver tongs and held it above the warm liquid, allowing it to melt into her tea, releasing it once it was half dissolved.
“I was trying to incite the man to leave the gaming tables,” Grayson explained. “I expected him to assault me for my impertinent wager, after which I had every intention of restoring his land and fortune as a concession for my deplorable behavior. Unfortunately, I was not given the chance.”
“Yet you agreed to the Baron’s counter offer of marriage to his daughter?” The Duchess was softening her attitude to her son, recognizing that there was more depth to the story, and him, than she had first realized.
Grayson looked his mother directly in the eyes, holding her gaze for a moment before lowering his head and refilling his own tea.
“Oh, Grayson,” she said tenderly. “You actually care for the girl.” It was a statement, not a question. The Duchess knew her son and it was impossible for him to hide his feelings from her, whether he expressed them openly or not.
“I should like to get to know her better,” he admitted. “Miss Bramick has, as they say, gotten under my skin.”
“Then court her properly, my son.”
“The entire ton is aware of my indiscreet proposition and I have heard that the Baron is contrite about his conduct the other night. I shan’t have an opportunity to convey my feelings respectfully now that traditional avenues have been closed to me.”
“I have never known you to give up so easily when you had a goal, Grayson.” The Duchess could see that her eldest son was troubled by this situation and was puzzled that he appeared resigned to losing the girl who had captured his heart. “Your father was a fighter, and I think you are very much like him.”
“There is a difference between managing an estate, fighting for one’s country or defending the King, and matters of the heart, mother.” Grayson’s father, the former Duke, was a strong and formidable leader. But his parents had married when his father was twenty-eight years old and his mother seventeen, under, to Grayson’s knowledge, traditional circumstances.
The Duchess smiled. “Your father never told you the
story of our courtship?”
Grayson shook his head. “Tell me now,” he said.
“Another time perhaps, but it was not as traditional as you may believe.” She set her empty tea cup on its saucer, stood up and walked towards the door. Grayson stood to walk with her.
“I wish for you to be happy,” she sighed. “I should be a grandmother by now, you know, not worrying about the reputation of my son, the Duke. Tell me you will fight for her just as you would fight for your homeland, your freedom, your title.”
“I have much to consider,” said Grayson. “Tonight, however, I must fulfill a commitment. I accepted an invitation that I cannot avoid.”
Louisa stepped out of the hired hackney and shut the door, shoving her hands in her pockets as she had seen other gentlemen do so many times. Tonight, she would be taking a huge risk yet again, but it was her only chance to get the rest of her father’s money back from the Duke. Hopefully, Thomas could also win back the title to their property in Scotland. If her father were to learn of what she was doing, he would be horrified. That was precisely the reason she had made certain he was fast asleep, drugged by the sleeping potion she had mixed into his tea. The shame of what she had done weighed heavily on her heart, but Louisa had nothing but his best interest in mind.
Drawing a deep breath, she looked up at the expansive townhouse of Mr. Chalmers. While he held no title and was not a member of the peerage, he was wealthier than most of them, save perhaps for the Duke of Montrose. He took advantage of any opportunity to expand his wealth and holdings, including these private gambling evenings. Chalmers was known to take calculated risks that lured even the most conservative opponent to let his guard down and squander valuable land. If Thomas was able to get the Duke to offer the land title in a wager, she and Thomas would have to be very shrewd to ensure one of them came away with it.
The Duke's Gamble: Clean Regency Romance (The Peers of Eton) Page 4
