Gamble With Hearts

by Hilary Gilman

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ demanded Charlotte in agitation. ‘It is not safe for you!’ ‘Devil a bit!’ responded the young man cheerfully. ‘Unless you mean that it's dangerous to touch the brandy, and there I'd agree with you.’

  ‘Oh, I do not understand you!’ cried Miss Wrexham in exasperation. ‘Who are you? How can you come here?’

  ‘Well dash it, I was invited,’ he protested laughingly. ‘Not that I attend this kind of thing as a rule because, to tell you the truth, I think them devilish dull, but as I told you, I was looking for you. I guessed you would be here or at Almacks tonight. I went there first. I meant to come straight on here when I couldn't find you there, but Mrs Drummond-Burrell nabbed me and presented me to some rabbit-faced girl as a very desirable partner. The old harridan frightens me to death, but she's a friend of my mother so there was no getting off!’

  Miss Wrexham was gazing at him in wonderment. ‘How could you guess I would be here? How could you know I would be invited?’

  ‘Didn't know, but I thought there was a good chance. I recognised Carstairs, you see. We were up at Oxford at the same time. Good thing he didn't see me, that's why I stayed by your carriage. Well I knew that if you were a friend of the Carstairs then you would be here for the Season, so the chances were I should find you at some party or other. Of course I was lucky tonight. I would have found you eventually though.’

  ‘But why?’ begged Charlotte in bewilderment. He looked at her for a moment, the laughter dying out of his eyes. She felt the blood rising in her cheeks and her eyes fell before his gaze.

  ‘You know why,’ he answered quietly. Miss Wrexham felt rather breathless and did not answer until the quiet voice came again, insistently. ‘You do know, don't you?’

  ‘Yes!’ she answered, raising her glorious eyes to his face.

  ‘Oh, you darling,’ he said caressingly, and would have caught her hand when the sound of voices recalled them both to a sense of their surroundings.

  ‘Goodness knows where that child has got to!’ Mrs Wrexham was heard exclaiming.

  Charlotte rose quickly, pressing a hand to her hot cheeks. ‘I am here, Mama,’ she called, and stepped out of her corner to face mother.

  ‘Oh there you are, my love!’ cried Mrs Wrexham. ‘You must get ready, my dear, for the carriage is at the door.’ Suddenly she noticed the intruder who was standing by the window, a mischievous smile in his eyes. ‘Why, who is this young man, Charlotte?’ she asked with a note of disapproval in her soft voice. Before Charlotte could answer, Lady Marston came bustling into the room but stopped short at the sight of the interloper.

  ‘Charles, you wicked boy!’ she exclaimed. ‘How dare you come so late to my party!’

  ‘Sorry; Aunt Jane,’ he replied, planting a hearty kiss on her rouged cheek. ‘The thing is I looked in at Almacks first and rather forgot the time.’

  ‘Oh, it could not matter less, Charles, you would not have enjoyed it in any event,’ responded his aunt, patting his cheek affectionately. ‘However, you should both know better than to hide away in a corner like this. It is very naughty of you!’ This was said indulgently, however, and it was obvious that Lady Marston was far from displeased to see her volatile nephew paying attention to a young woman of Charlotte's good breeding and high principles. ‘Fanny, my love, allow me to present my nephew to you; Charles, Viscount Carlington. Charles, make your bow to one of my oldest friends, Mrs Wrexham. Miss Wrexham you seem to be acquainted with already!’ Carlington bowed over Mrs Wrexham's hand with an old-fashioned courtesy that would not have ill-become his grandfather. Mrs Wrexham smiled warmly upon him, noting how his eyes rested upon her daughter's face. If this delightful young man were only as rich as he was well-born then their troubles appeared to be over. She graciously invited him to call upon them in Hill Street which he assured them he was most anxious to do. Mrs Wrexham then ushered her daughter away, her head full of delightful daydreams in which Charlotte figured as Viscountess Carlington, mistress of an awe-inspiring mansion. Charlotte's dreams were of a more romantic nature, but no less delightful.

  FOUR

  Miss Wrexham awoke the next morning with an agreeable sense of something pleasant to look forward to. She lay quietly, her cheek snuggled into the pillow and a tender smile playing about the corners of her mouth. Molly, the abigail who brought her morning chocolate, was greeted with a more than usually cheerful good morning which that damsel found perfectly understandable as the coachman had already reported below stairs that Miss had been seen to her carriage last night by a regular Lord.

  Confident that Carlington would visit her that very day, Charlotte arrayed herself in a morning gown of jonquil crepe, charmingly tucked to display her figure to advantage. Charlotte, who had never before considered her looks but as a weapon, was for the first time grateful for her own sake that she was beautiful. She curvetted before the mirror, smiling at her reflection and in general behaving very much the same way as any other young lady of eighteen in the throes of her first love.

  Mrs Wrexham and Lady Northwood were already partaking of breakfast when Charlotte appeared. She apologised gracefully to her aunt and bent to kiss her mama before seating herself and attacking the meal with a healthy appetite. Presently it struck her that her loving relatives seemed incongruously grim on such a lovely morning and laughingly she rallied them upon it.

  ‘Why, dearest, what is the meaning of that long face? Did you not have the most delightful time last night? Was it not the most wonderful party?’

  ‘Yes, Charlotte, it was a very pleasant party,’ replied Mrs Wrexham dully, stifling a sob.

  Charlotte became seriously alarmed. ‘Mama, what is it? Have you had bad news? Are you ill?’

  ‘No, my love, it's Carlington!’

  ‘Not hurt, Mama! Oh not—not—dead!’ cried Charlotte turning deathly pale.

  ‘Oh good heavens, Fanny, see how you have frightened the poor girl!’ exclaimed Lady Northwood in exasperation. ‘No, of course he is not dead, Charlotte. He is perfectly well. What your mother wishes to tell you is that you must put him out of your mind. I am sorry if it distresses you but you really must not think of him anymore.’

  Mrs Wrexham uttered a faint sound of protest, but subsided at a look from her sister.

  ‘Why, ma'am? Why should I not think of him?’ demanded Charlotte in a cold little voice that her mama recognised. It betokened anger rigidly held in check. ‘And pray, whose business is it but mine should I continue to do so?’

  Lady Northwood perceived she had erred. Her young niece could be unexpectedly formidable. She took Charlotte's hand coaxingly, saying, ‘Do not be angry with us, my love, but indeed it will not do. Setting aside that Carlington is one of the wildest rakes in town, he is quite penniless!’

  ‘Indeed?’ asked Charlotte, politely surprised.

  ‘Indeed, child. Now do not poker up so. I am telling you this for your own good. The estate is mortgaged up to the hilt and it is common knowledge that his gaming debts run into thousands. Oh, I know he is charming and to have engaged his interest is something of a triumph; for he does not, in general, dance attendance on young ladies, but remember why you are here, Charlotte! Think of your Mama! What will become of her if you should form a connection with this spendthrift? Indeed, what would become of you? You would be wretched!’

  Charlotte smiled wistfully. ‘I do not think I should be so very unhappy, Aunt.’

  ‘And my poor sister? What of her?’

  Charlotte glanced at her mother, who met her daughter’s gaze rather proudly and squaring her shoulders inside the grey bombazine she answered Lady Northwood for herself. ‘If Charlotte wishes to marry this young man she knows that she will have my support and my blessing. She must not sacrifice her life for me. I did not consult anyone's wishes but my own when I ran away with Wrexham. Why should Charlotte?’

  ‘Because I promised!’ interrupted her daughter impetuously. ‘Oh, Mama, how could you let me be so selfish, even for an instant? Wh
o was it that persuaded you to sell the annuity? Who dragged you here, away from the life you knew? No, I will not back out now. I have made my bed, now I must lie upon it!’

  Thereupon all three ladies burst into tears, rather to the consternation of the butler, who entered at that moment to inform his mistress that the Marquis of Ruthin and Miss Milverly had called upon her.

  Mrs Wrexham stopped crying abruptly and arose hurriedly, shaking out her skirts and patting her hair into place with hands that trembled slightly. Lady Northwood, whose tears were always more noisy than real, followed her from the room, pausing only to pat her young niece upon the cheek and recommending to her to bathe her eyes in Hungary water before appearing in the Morning Room.

  If Ruthin noticed any signs of agitation in his hostesses he was far too well bred to betray it. He introduced his daughter, Miss Milverly, to the two ladies with pardonable pride, and was happy to see that Mrs Wrexham immediately drew the girl into conversation while he chatted amicably to Lady Northwood, an acquaintance of many years' standing.

  Although Mrs Wrexham was loath to admit that any damsel could come near to her own daughter for beauty, there was no denying that Miss Milverly was something quite out of the common way. She was as yet only sixteen, but she had little of the shyness common to very young ladies. Indeed, her vivacity was her chief charm. In comparison with the statuesque Charlotte she was but a little dab of a female, but her figure was trim and she was dressed with great propriety and taste. She possessed a heart-shaped face with huge brown eyes and long curling black lashes. Her nose had a regrettable tendency to turn up, but all in all she might pass anywhere for a very pretty girl. What really made Miss Milverly distinctive and had already captivated a good many admirers was her voice, which had a rare and beautiful quality. In her presence most women sounded shrill and she had a way of wishing her admirers good morning that encouraged them to propose upon the spot.

  Mrs Wrexham was by no means impervious to her young guest's fascination and, prepared to like her for her father's sake, she very soon began to like her for her own.

  ‘I believe you have but recently come to town from the country, Miss Milverly.’

  Miss Milverly nodded her dark curls vigorously. ‘Yes, indeed, and it is the most enchanting thing imaginable; for I had left school in Bath last Christmas and the idea of living with my Aunt Wainwright until my coming-out was just too dreary to think about!’

  Mrs Wrexham smiled. ‘You enjoy living with your Papa then?’

  ‘In some ways it is the greatest thing, for Papa is so rich and fashionable, but then he is a lot more strict than my aunt. There is so much too that he does not seem to understand!’

  She gave so much emphasis to this last word that Mrs Wrexham was disturbed. Obviously there had already been some friction between the Marquis and his lively young daughter. She hoped he might confide in her for she could see that Miss Milverly might well become difficult if handled wrongly. She was a headstrong child and although Mrs Wrexham could not but admit that Charlotte was equally so she was older and had never been less than sensible.

  At that moment Miss Wrexham appeared. She was most pleased to see the Marquis again and shook hands with great cordiality.

  ‘You look charmingly, Miss Wrexham. London must agree with you,’ murmured his lordship.

  ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she responded, dropping a mock curtsey.

  He laughed. ‘Come, allow me to introduce my daughter to you. Amelia my love, this is Miss Wrexham of whom I have spoken. I hope very much that you will become friends.’

  Amelia regarded Charlotte with huge eyes. She thought she had never seen anyone so beautiful and elegant. Moreover, although her father might be blind to the strain in Charlotte's fine eyes, she was not. It was apparent that Miss Wrexham had a “secret sorrow” and naturally, this made her far more interesting than any other young woman Amelia had come across since she arrived in London.

  Charlotte, in her turn, thought Miss Milverly very pretty and appealing. She felt sorry for her as she had lost her mama at such an early age. The girls smiled at each other and began to make conversation, rather laboriously.

  The Marquis had just risen to take his leave when the butler appeared to announce more visitors. Mrs Carstairs, escorted by her young brother, swept into the room. Charlotte could not but find the sight of her friend painful, for she was reminded of the circumstances in which they had last met. She had forgotten her troubles for a little while chatting with her new acquaintance, but now they swept over her with a force that made her bite her lips to stop them quivering.

  ‘Why, Charlotte!’ exclaimed Mrs Carstairs. ‘I can see that you are still quite overset from our adventures yesterday. I hope you retired early to bed as I recommended.’

  Charlotte shook her head but was spared the necessity of answering by her mama and aunt who, not unnaturally, demanded to know what their guest was talking about.

  ‘You mean Charlotte has not told you? How odd of her. The fact is that we were held up yesterday evening on our way home from Richmond. Really, I am most surprised that Charlotte did not mention it for she had the most unpleasant experience. While most of the ruffians were engaged at the front carriage and we were being subjected to a search for our valuables, one of them sneaked to the back and accosted Charlotte. What he said she would not tell us, but she was much overset.’

  ‘My love, why did you not tell us all this?’ cried Mrs Wrexham in distress. ‘We should never have gone to Lady Marston's last night!’

  ‘Helen refines too much upon it, dearest. Indeed, the man said nothing I could take exception to. He was quite an amusing fellow.''

  ‘I'll wager he was!’ murmured Ruthin thoughtfully to himself. It was no secret to Lord Ruthin that several of his young friends had been imprudent enough to attempt to waylay a certain undesirable gentleman. If they had in fact been terrorising respectable persons in their attempts to do so then he would be forced to take them strongly to task. It was obvious that Miss Wrexham had been very much disturbed.

  The ladies were all still exclaiming over Charlotte and no one had thought it necessary to include Mr Edridge in their circle. However, Mr Edridge had, by this time, discovered Miss Milverly and was more than happy to sit staring at her, quite oblivious of his surroundings.

  Amelia strove to appear unconscious of the fixed regard but eventually she raised her eyes and gave him a look in which maiden shyness and mischief were enchantingly blended. It was enough to take him to her side saying: ‘Forgive me, but I—I mean— is it not a pleasant morning, Miss Milverly?’

  ‘It is most clement,’ she responded demurely.

  ‘Do you make a long stay in town, ma'am?’

  ‘Oh yes, for I have come to live here with Papa, and we shall certainly be fixed here until we go to Brighton in the summer.’

  Mr Eldridge, having exhausted his supply of conversational openings, was silent. Obviously he needed encouragement. Miss Milverly gave it. ‘I daresay you will be in town for the season also, Mr Edridge. Perhaps you would care to call upon Papa,’ she invited, smiling dazzlingly upon him. Mr Edridge sighed and explained that he was in London for only a few weeks more before he must leave to take his place at the University. Miss Milverly seemed disappointed and suggested that he might perhaps visit them in any event.