The Duke's Wager

by Edith Layton

  “Oh, please,” Regina answered, with an odd look in her sleep-misted eyes, “no, no formality, please, you must call me only ‘Regina.’

  VIII

  “Regina was unusually silent through most of breakfast. She sat quietly at the table, sipping at her coffee and watching the morning rituals of Fairleigh revolve about her. St. John, as he had insisted that she call him, sat at the head of the table, lightly fencing verbally with Lady Burden. His sister, Lady Mary, seemed to be devoting most of her time to consuming the enormous amount of delicacies upon her plate. “I’m eating for two, you know,” she had simpered, and then proceeded to turn her entire attention to the task before her. What seemed to Regina’s dazzled eyes to be a battalion of servants, silently glided in and out of the room, bearing in, and then away, platters of ham, kidneys, lamb cutlets, eggs, toasts, and muffins, and pots of coffee and chocolate.

  Even in her extreme fatigue the day before, she had not failed to be impressed by the gracious opulence of the house to which the Marquis had brought her. He had explained her exhaustion lightly, and she had been, after only a brief introduction to his constantly smiling sister and her quizzical companion Lady Burden, immediately shown to a comfortable and lavishly furnished room. A tray had been brought to her by a quiet servant girl, and before she had had time to feel regrets or faint alarms about her surroundings, she had been assisted in disrobing and, soon after, fallen deeply asleep.

  But this morning, she felt all the reactions to her new situation that she had not had the presence of mind to experience the day before. The household seemed to run on smooth, silent wheels. No one of the servants that she had encountered engaged her in the sort of conversations that the staff of her uncle’s house had done. They all, from the parlormaid to the housekeeper, merely seemed to accept her and treat her with a deference that she did not know quite how to handle. Therefore, she had assumed a protective air of calm acceptance which, she was not to know, only served to verify in their minds the fact that however unorthodox her arrival had been, surely she was quite the Lady of Quality.

  But she longed to speak to the Marquis alone, if only for a few moments, to discover how quickly he could dispatch the message she had written, immediately upon wakening, to her dear Miss Bekins. The sooner, she felt, that she was out of this house, no matter how comfortable it was, the sooner she could resume her own identity, the happier she would be. For it was not in her nature to act out a part, and the part she was forced into at present, inhibited her every movement.

  She glanced over to Lady Burden. She had been listening to the conversation, and much admired the older woman’s quiet wry humor, and would dearly have liked to have spoken to her without the stiff affect she now assumed. Lady Burden, she thought, had great presence and an air of deep and abiding calm. Regina sighed a little more deeply than she would have wished to.

  “But my dear Regina,” Lady Burden said quickly, “we have been neglecting you.…” She hesitated, for after all, she wondered, what was a safe subject to bring up? St. John had told her some mare’s nest of a tale last night, which his sister had swallowed whole. But Mary was an avid reader of popular romances, and hadn’t two wits to rub together in the whole of her dear little frivolous head, Amelia knew, so that any tale St. John had spun, from the most gothic to the most outrageous, would have served to satisfy Mary’s never too powerful powers of comprehension.

  But really, Amelia had thought, St. John had done it almost too brown. Lady Berry (a name that Amelia, who knew most of the important names of her contemporaries, had never yet encountered) was supposedly a young girl fleeing from a wicked cousin, who was trustee to her fortune, and who was attempting to marry her off to a spotty and dissolute young man before she reached her majority? Her birthday, St. John had explained, which was to be an occasion that would occur within a few months, would free her from her trustee’s clutches. St. John, an old friend of her deceased father, he had explained, was only accommodating Lady Berry until he could contact her maternal uncle, who would then succor her until her natal day dawned.

  Really, Amelia thought, only years of training had kept her from giggling right to his face. In the first place, the child would certainly not turn twenty-one till at least another winter and summer had come and gone, and in the second, she had ceased to believe in wicked trustees and evil stepmothers the moment she had abandoned her nurses’ knee. What sort of a coil has St. John gotten into now, she wondered. And the poor lovely child, it is obvious that she is a lady, if not the “Lady Berry” St. John has dubbed her, and also very apparent that she is deeply unhappy—with both this masquerade and whatever else has actually happened to her.

  “No, no, really,” Regina said hastily. “It is only that I regret my appetite is not equal to the variety of good things that I see before me. You know, the feeling that you had as a child when there wasn’t room for one more morsel, and then the most delicious dessert was brought out?” She laughed.

  “But my dear,” Mary quickly put in, “we haven’t any dessert at all this morning. Is it what you’ve been accustomed to?” she asked hopefully. “For indeed, I haven’t heard of it before. But you can, I’m sure, make do with some sweet rolls and jellies. If you wish a dessert, however, I’m sure we can have one for you tomorrow.”

  “No, dear little dunderhead,” St. John laughed. “That isn’t what Regina meant at all.”

  “Well,” said Mary, carefully wiping up the last traces of her creamed cutlets with a small piece of bread and popping it into her mouth, “I’m sure it might be a good idea at that. At any rate,” she sighed, smiling what she hoped was the proper maternal smile and delicately patting her burgeoning belly, “I must ask you all to excuse me now, for the doctor said I must have my rest after meals.” And, pushing away her chair, she rose as majestically as she could and left the room, listing slightly from side to side as she did so.

  St. John laughed as she retreated. “My sister is a dear little widgeon, Regina, you must learn to take her exactly as she comes to you.”

  Regina wasn’t sure as to whether she would allow herself the impudence of the smile that had been hovering near her lips, or whether she should rise to the defense of the Marquis’s sister. Again, she felt wretched, not knowing exactly what her position here was to be.

  “And now,” began St. John, rising, “I do have business to attend to today. I’m sure you can find something to do today, Regina, until I return.”

  “But,” Regina cried, rising even as he did, “if I might, that is to say, do you have a few moments, My Lo—Sinjin? There are a few things that I fear cannot wait until you return.”

  Amelia busied herself by peering down, with great interest, into the dregs of her chocolate. St. John glanced at Amelia quickly, frowned, and then said lightly,

  “To be sure. Come into the study, Regina, and I’ll see what sort of problems you feel have arisen.”

  Regina, looking helplessly back at Amelia, swiftly followed St. John’s exit. Once seated opposite him in the luxuriously appointed study, she began at once, stammering,

  “Your Grace, I simply cannot, cannot do it. I don’t know what sort of story you’ve told Lady Burden and your sister, but I, I am no good at dissembling at all. And I haven’t the faintest idea of how to go about as ‘Lady Berry,’ a young woman of fashion. And as I am to spend time with Lady Burden, please, can there not be a way that you can take her into your confidence? Else, I am sure it would be to both our advantages if you would just…send me off to Canterbury on the instant. I know, I just know that I will make a cake of myself. I am not fashioned to be an actress. Oh, and yes, here is the letter to be posted to Miss Bekins.” Withdrawing it from her skirts, she went on hurriedly, “Still, if it is a choice between acting a part until I have her answer and going immediately perhaps it would be better not to post it at all, but rather to post me—with haste.” And she laughed shakily.

  He stared at her for a moment. In the early winter light that shone weakly through
windows, she looked very young, very dewy, very vulnerable. Her pallor suits her, he thought, but then anything would. Yes, he sighed, looking into the candid widened green eyes, she would make a blunder. Amelia is too sharp for her. Some compromise with the truth must be made.

  “Very well,” he said, smiling, “I will speak to Amelia, but we needn’t bother with altering one detail of the story with my sister, I assure you. She delights in the tale I have told her, and pays so little mind to reality in any case that it would only confuse her to be told aught else at this point. But Regina, I cannot tell all, for my own reasons—you must trust me—to Amelia. Please bear with the few, very few discrepancies I must include in your story. All right?”

  She nodded. He took the letter from her outstretched hand, tapped it a few times on his own hand, and then rose and went to the door. He found Amelia pretending to be engrossed in a rapidly cooling muffin.

  “Come girl,” he laughed. “You have no more interest in consuming that than you have in partaking of plum pudding, at the moment. Come with me, and all your curiosity will be satisfied.”

  Once inside the study, St. John stood with his back to the nicely crackling fire and began to tell Amelia the true story of Regina’s appearance.

  “Only remember,” he prefaced, “that I take you into our confidence at Regina’s insistence. She will be here for a spell, and I believe wishes to be friends with you, only not on a note of deception. But we both trust your unswerving honesty, my dear; it is most important.”

  Amelia, too interested to take offense at St. John’s tone, readily agreed to absolute secrecy. St. John went on with the story, but, Regina noted sadly, although he told mostly the bare facts of the matter, still he left her exact name and patrimony a secret. He would only say that while she was not “Lady Berry,” he could not divulge her true name or circumstances. Only that he did indeed owe her family a debt. He also said nothing of her attempt to gain a position teaching with Miss Bekins, rather only that she must remain in hiding from Torquay until “a certain family member” of hers could be located. Ah well, Regina thought, that much at least, I can keep my lips closed about, although why he found it necessary to dissemble about her family and plans for the future, she could not fathom. Still, she thought, half a loaf is indeed better than none.

  “How enthralling!” Amelia said, her face animated. “In hiding from Jason! Delightful!”

  “You, you know him?” Regina asked, aghast.

  “Indeed, who does not?” Amelia answered. “And although, yes, I agree that he is most probably totally evil, and not at all the sort of fellow you should consort with, forgive me, Regina, but I do hold a warm spot in my heart for him.”

  “Wicked wench,” St. John laughed. “Only you would say that, you know. Is there anyone you despise at all on the face of the earth?”

  “Oh a great many, Sinjin, really, but not Jason, for you see, he is the only man of my acquaintance to have ever made a totally, neither financially nor matrimonially induced, but gratuitous, indecent proposition to me. It was wonderful for my vanity, although I do feel he offered just to cheer me up. He does have excellent taste in females, really.”

  St. John flushed. “Really, Amelia, I hardly know whether to credit you or not. If it would cheer you, I should have offered you just such an opportunity myself.”

  “Ah, but I should know for a certainty that you were offering out of goodwill alone, Sinjin, whereas Jason did it so beautifully that I shall never be sure of what his intentions really were.”

  St. John bowed with a cynical smile.

  “Amelia, my dear, I leave you to care for our little fugitive, my only fears being that you will corrupt her more completely than ever the Black Duke could.”

  “Never mind, Regina,” Amelia smiled. “For I am really a paragon of good taste, and for all my wicked tongue, I blush to say that I have never overstepped the bounds of propriety, no matter how much I may have longed to. Now that I am included in your confidence, I propose to entertain you without a shadow of hesitation. For Mary really does not need me at all, and I confess that until you arrived I was very angry with myself for consenting to accompany her here. It appears that all she requires is a stack of dreadful novels, a handy paper of sweets, and a large bed to doze in, without interruption from either her devoted husband or her assorted offspring. But with you here, we shall have a good time while Sinjin attempts to contact your relative. In fact, this very afternoon I shall take you on some calls to acquaint you with the local gentry.”

  “Is that wise?” Regina asked fearfully, her eyes involuntarily going to St. John’s tall person lounging negligently by the fireplace.

  “Of course,” he reassured her. “After all, he does not know your direction, and even if he did discover it, even Torquay has the taste not to snatch you from Amelia’s keeping. No, he will not presume to steal you away from here. Even he knows that a gentleman does not poach upon another gentleman’s property.”

  Amelia shot him a curious look, but then, gathering herself and composing her features, she extended her hand to Regina.

  “Come, Regina, let us leave this tiresome gentleman to his business for now. You must change clothes and accompany me, and I assure you, with the business I am about this afternoon, I shall be very grateful for your company.”

  St. John watched them leave, a calculating look coming into his eyes. Yes, he thought, it can be done, even under these circumstances. He stood lost in thought for a few moments, and then turned to leave the room. He paused only for a moment while, almost as an afterthought, he carefully fed the letter he was holding to the merrily crackling flames in the fireplace.

  The days spun by so pleasantly that Regina had hardly the time or the inclination to wonder why her dear Miss Bekins was so tardy in answering her letter. Amelia was the most delightful of companions. She was witty and well informed, and while she was kindness itself in all her dealings with Regina, and all other members of the household, her tongue was never stinting in her candid, sometimes too perceptive comments about other members of the society in which she moved. She had been at first amazed, then genuinely delighted at the scope of Regina’s knowledge which she had gleaned from books, but appalled at the depth of her lack of experience in society. She had quickly designated herself both friend and tutor to the younger girl. And Regina felt a real warmth and affection for her poised and immaculate new friend.

  She still held the Marquis in great awe. And try as she might, she could not bring herself to act naturally in his presence. His cool good looks intimidated her, his amused and benignly tolerant attitude toward her made her feel like a veritable bumpkin, and his unexpected friendship still puzzled her. Yet she enjoyed their frequent téte-à-tétes, their customary strolls about the grounds when the weather was clement, and their quietly stimulating evenings, when the three would sit downstairs and play cards, or chess, or group around the piano and sing. Lady Mary, Regina soon found, partook of none of these activities, contenting herself with infrequent visits downstairs when any of the local gentry came to call, preferring to spend most of her time luxuriating in her increasingly evident state, at ease in her rooms, surrounded by sweet meats and novels.

  In all, Regina would have been pleased with her sojourn at Fairleigh if it weren’t for three nagging details that assailed her nightly, when at last she was alone in her room. The first was, of course, her governess’s lack of response to her letter; the second was her never repressed sense of obligation toward the Marquis for his solicitousness and his protection; and the third was the observation that she had first doubted, and then later become more and more convinced of. For now she was sure of it—each time St. John came close to her, each time he allowed his lips to brush her hair whilst he whispered some strategy in cards at her, each time he asked her to accompany him for a short walk, she could feel Lady Amelia’s reaction.

  She had quickly noted her new friend’s eyes constantly, if surreptitiously, tracked his movements in whatever room
they were in. She could sense the way her companion’s spirits would rise when he joined them, she could almost feel, with the ends of her skin, how Amelia’s interest rose and fell according to his entrances and exits. No, she no longer had any doubt about Lady Burden’s true feelings, nor, sadly enough, about St. John’s lack of either interest in or understanding of them. But she liked her new friend too dearly to ever indicate that she had discovered what, she was sure, was supposedly a secret known only to Amelia’s own heart.

  For herself, no matter how solicitous or handsome the Marquis appeared to her admittedly inexperienced eye, she still felt a certain constraint with him, a lingering shyness in her manner. Although they talked together long into the nights, and played cards, and took long walks out about the grounds, she still considered him somewhat withdrawn; that formidable dignity she had at first noted in his manner was still there.

  This evening, they sat in the downstairs study, Regina’s favorite room, and played cards. Regina was a wretched player—St. John always laughed and told her she would never win until she learned to cover her delight when she was dealt a fair hand—so tonight, she watched as Amelia and St. John matched wits at the game.

  “I shall never understand,” Regina sighed as the game came to an end.

  “What shall you never understand, my dear?” St. John laughed, as he folded up his hand and signaled Amelia’s victory. “What possible subject do you find beyond your comprehension?”

  “Your friends,” Regina blurted, then, coloring, tried to amend her rash statement. “That is to say, the manners prevailing among them, that is.…”

  “What Regina is struggling with,” Amelia put in with amusement, “is the shock of her meeting the Three Graces this morning.”

  St. John threw back his head and laughed, with genuine amusement. “Did she meet them today? Oh, that is a scene I would have given a pretty penny to see. Our resident bluestocking coming up against the Squire’s fair litter.”