The Lady's Gamble

by Abby Ayles

  Regina pulled open the curtains to her father’s study. The moonlight spilled through, illuminating the room. It wasn’t as good as a candle but it would do.

  She began to carefully look through the papers on the desk. Surely information about the Duke of Whitefern had to be in there somewhere.

  In looking, she found far more than she’d expected.

  Father had been right. According to these lists of expenses, their income had been slipping every year. There were tallies of debts far greater than Regina had suspected.

  Poor Bridget. She had known about these. Had she not thought to confide in someone? Why had she taken on this burden alone? Regina would have been happy to help.

  She understood now why Bridget had spoken to her that morning. She glanced at the clock. Well, yesterday morning. She had known the debts would only get worse.

  Regina looked at the papers again. At this rate, it was only a matter of a few years before Father was bankrupt.

  How could they have let this go on for so long? Surely Bridget could have stood up to Father and forced him to stop.

  The moment she had that thought, Regina dismissed it. She could not force blame onto others. She too had been ignorant. She had sat sewing and reading, oblivious to the issue. They had all known Father’s weakness. She was as much to blame as anyone for her inaction.

  She set the papers aside and continued her search. Finally, she found it: in a stack of calling cards that Father kept. She recognized many names, including Lord Pettifer and Mr. Denny. It seemed this was a compilation of the men with whom Father played cards.

  Regina took out a piece of paper and wrote down all the names. Then she copied down their addresses. If her plan was to succeed she had to know all the possible men involved.

  The Duke of Whitefern was in there as well. It listed him as Lord Harrison, then his title, and an address. Regina was surprised to see the address was in London.

  She went to the registry and looked up the Duke of Whitefern. All titled peoples were listed in the registry. There it stated that Whitefern was located on the opposite side of London from her own house.

  Regina checked the address again. Perhaps Lord Harrison had an apartment in London? It was not unheard of.

  To be certain, she wrote down two copies of her letter. One would go to the estate of Whitefern and the other would go to the London address.

  She thought carefully over what she wanted to say. It wouldn’t do to spell out her entire plan. If the letter got into the wrong hands it would spell scandal for her. Well, more scandal than her family was already in.

  In the end, she kept it brief:

  Dear Lord Harrison,

  Pardon my forwardness in writing you. As you may tell from my hand, it is a woman writing and not Lord Hartfield. I hope you allow me to call upon you on your earliest convenience. I think I have means by which my Father may be delivered from scandal. But I shall need your assistance. I hope that you will agree to my request. I promise I shall find a way to repay you for your time.

  With best regards,

  Miss Regina Hartfield

  She addressed and sealed the two copies of the letter just as the sun was staring up over the hills. Every joint ached. Her eyes itched. She wanted to sleep for days.

  Instead she made sure the desk was as she’d found it. Then she slipped out of the study and placed the letters in the box to be mailed. She made sure to sign the return address as from Lord Hartfield.

  If it was discovered that she, an unmarried woman, had written to an unmarried man—the rumors that would start up didn’t bear thinking about. But there were many reasons her father would write to a man such as Lord Harrison.

  After that was done, she retired up to bed. She could hear the sound of the scullery maids setting the fires. Regina had been up until dawn before, reading in bed. But that felt different. Curled up in bed with a gripping story was one thing. Dealing with scandal and secrets was another.

  She slipped back into bed and pulled the covers up. Her letter would reach Lord Harrison within a day or two. He would help her. He had to help her. Then she could win their fortune back.

  That thought was the last she had before sleep claimed her.

  Chapter 7

  Thomas Harrison stared down at the letter in front of him. His breakfast lay untouched on the table. It was probably getting cold but he couldn’t tear himself away.

  Of all the things—he had not expected this.

  When he had gone through his letters and saw that one was from Lord Hartfield, he had not been sure what to expect. Perhaps the man was writing to apologize? Or perhaps to thank him for assisting his daughter?

  Instead when he had opened it he had seen that the letter was in fact from the daughter he had helped. Miss Regina.

  She had been quite a pretty thing. None of her elder sister’s regal bearing or confidence, of course. But nevertheless she had a sweet face. Her eyes were the most striking thing. They were a dark brown and seemed warm and inviting.

  The rest of her had been nice as well. She had a fine figure. Her hair was dark red, like her sister Bridget’s. She had a tiny face and delicate button nose. Also quite a lot of freckles. He’d thought those endearing.

  Her manner had been quite contradictory. All he had heard of Miss Regina suggested a shy temperament. His admiration for her sister Miss Bridget he had ill-concealed. Bridget was witty, capable, confident, and beautiful, all that a man could want in a companion.

  But in pursuing Bridget, he had learned about her family as a matter of course. Louisa, the second eldest, he had found to be even-tempered and thoughtful. She was well liked by all.

  Natalie, the third, he had danced with once or twice. She was a spirited flirt. He hoped she would learn soon enough that treating men like puppets dancing attendance did not end well.

  Elizabeth was the second youngest. He had not talked with her directly but he had heard many stories. While Natalie collected men’s hearts, Elizabeth collected their pride. There was hardly a man about who had not been cut by her wit.

  Regina he had not seen until the other night.

  “A mouse,” Miss Charlotte Tourney had said. “Terribly awkward. But I suppose it’s natural. She’s the youngest of five sisters. Must be quite competitive. And she’s not a beauty.”

  Thomas had to disagree with Miss Tourney on that account. Regina was not a beauty like Bridget or Natalie, true. But she was also far from plain. She reminded him of a little fairy from his childhood stories.

  Others had said similar things to Miss Tourney. Rarely leaves the house. Quite boring. Hardly speaks. No interest in dancing. Blurts out the most frank observations. Clearly the governess gave up on that one. Does nothing but sew. I do believe she is dull-witted.

  All of this had led him to expect a meek child. That was not what he had encountered.

  Miss Regina had seemed uncommonly determined to not accept her fate. She had shown fire in the side parlor. He could remember how she had firmly tugged herself away. How she had said that she must know what was going on. How she had declared that there must be a solution.

  He thought perhaps that there was more to the youngest Hartfield than people realized.

  Despite what he had seen that night, he had not expected this. It was most forward of her. Did she not realize that if he wanted he could circulate this letter? He could use it to spread the most salacious rumors. He could ruin her with it.

  It showed quite a lot of trust in him. And she did not know him. They had spoken once. Not to mention that he had taken care that not much of his history be known.

  He was not ashamed that he had used cards to regain his family fortune. His father had been a good man. A moral man. But his spine had been as soft as butter. He had no head for figures. Ill friends had swindled him until by the time Thomas inherited there was next to nothing left to inherit.

  With the money he had earned from cards he had invested wisely. He had entered into business with good, solid
men. He had put many years of hard work into refurnishing his estate. Whitefern had been gutted. All the art and furniture sold to pay debts. He had rebought each piece. Tracking some of it down had taken ages but he had employed determined men who were skilled at such things.

  It had taken him the work of a decade but he had done it. He had rebuilt his family home. He had redone the grounds. He had ensured those who lived on his land prospered. He had put the Harrison family and the land of Whitefern back where they belonged: on top.

  But not everyone saw it that way. Those who had never had to earn their living saw those who did as less-than. Especially when they had to use cards. It didn’t help that people like that blasted Pettifer gave it all a bad name.

  Thomas should have intervened. He should have warned Lord Hartfield. Mr. Denny was half in love with Elizabeth Hartfield and had told Thomas all about her father’s ill luck with cards.

  If only he had spoken to Hartfield and warned him not to play Pettifer. Perhaps this all could have been avoided.

  Now Miss Regina was writing to him. She was begging him for help.

  He had no idea what she could possibly have in mind that would involve him. Perhaps she had some separate inheritance she hoped to invest? If her deceased mother left her daughters some pounds, those would belong to Regina outright. She could invest them if she wished.

  That didn’t sound right. There were plenty of men Regina could go to for help with that. Why him?

  Thomas couldn’t find it within himself to refuse a young lady’s plea for assistance. Especially the sister of the woman he loved. He was well aware that Bridget Hartfield hardly thought of him. But then, she hardly knew him. Perhaps with more time…

  And how could he refuse a girl who was in the same position he had been as a young man? He had watched his father squander everything. Now Regina’s father had done the same. It would make him the worst hypocrite to refuse her.

  For Bridget’s sake and for the sake of his own sympathy, he ordered for paper and pen to be brought.

  Dear Miss Regina,

  I have received your letter and am perplexed as to how I may assist. But I wish your family nothing but joy. If you think I may be of assistance then I shall do what I can. As you may know I have a London address. It shall make a fine halfway point between your father’s estate and mine. If you can find an excuse to go to London, I can meet you there this Saturday.

  With warmest regards,

  Lord Harrison

  He was tempted to add a postscript remind her to pass his regards onto Bridget, but he thought that might be pushing his luck. He had been rather bold about that the other night.

  Still, he could not deny the idea appealed to him. Bridget could hardly avoid to look with favor upon the man who helped save her family. Perhaps, in helping the Hartfields, he could win Bridget.

  Thomas finally tucked into his breakfast. He did not even mind that it was cold.

  Chapter 8

  Regina looked down at the address written in her hand. Then she looked back up at the building.

  She was in a nice section of London. The streets were broad and lined with trees. The air smelled fairly pleasant for a city. And the houses were fine and sturdy. Yet she couldn’t help but feel nervous.

  She shook herself. She wasn’t in a dangerous area. And Lord Harrison was not a dangerous man. A mysterious one, but not dangerous. There was no reason to be so concerned.

  He really was mysterious though. Regina had made careful inquiries over the last few days. She had even spoken with Bridget about him. But nobody knew anything more than what Charlotte Tourney had told her.

  “Lord Harrison is a fine man,” Bridget had said. “His behavior has been acceptable.”

  “I had heard that he admired you,” Regina had put forth.

  “He has made that clear,” Bridget had replied. “But I saw nothing in him to interest me. He seemed a gentleman, nothing more.”

  “But now you must consider him,” Regina had suggested. “For as you told Natalie, we can no longer be picky.”

  “Beggars cannot be choosers,” Bridget had admitted. “I shall consider him along with the others. If nothing else his fortune is massive and he is titled.”

  Now Regina was in front of Lord Harrison’s city home. And she was terrified.

  She recalled the way he had looked at her and the feel of her hand in his. A shiver ran up her spine. She did not like the way that he affected her. She couldn’t even name how he affected her. He just…did.

  “Well?” Lady Cora Dunhill asked. “I am happy to go in, my dear, but you look rather like you’ve seen a ghost. Perhaps it is best if we go for a bracing walk instead.”

  Lady Cora was what could only be described as a beauty. When she had first seen her Regina’s breath had caught a little in her throat, the way it did when she saw a particularly lovely painting. Lady Cora had thick, dark hair that shone in the firelight and dark blue eyes that seemed deep and unfathomable.

  She actually looked a little like she could be related to Lord Harrison. They had similar dark hair and blue eyes, although Lady Cora’s were dark and mysterious in color while Lord Harrison’s were warm and inviting. There was also the sly look to her, and the quirk of her mouth that suggested a private joke.

  The thing that most struck Regina about her was the sense of class and style. She seemed the sort of woman to wear the latest fashions before everyone else, as if she had a secret carriage that whisked her to Paris in the night. In fact she was probably the woman who made the fashions that everyone else followed. And the curve of her throat, the slope of her shoulders, the very bones in her face reminded Regina of a statue.

  ‘Classical beauty,’ she thought. It was something that Bridget had said once. They had been discussing Helen of Troy. Well, this Lady Cora had that. She was the most beautiful woman Regina had ever seen, barring Bridget.

  They had been introduced through Lady Morrison, who with whom Regina had quickly struck up a correspondence asking for potential chaperones while in London.

  She had failed to inform Lady Morrison that her mother would not do, for it had to be someone who did not previously know Regina.

  Regina had called upon Lady Cora first thing after arriving in London. When she had curtsied to her, Lady Cora looked at her for a moment, a strange puzzled light in her eyes.

  “You remind me of someone,” she had said. Her voice was rich and melodious.

  Regina could only think that one of her sisters had crossed Lady Cora’s path before. Despite Regina’s own opinion that she looked nothing like her sisters, most people only noticed the red hair and assumed they were all related. That must be it.

  “I’m told that I look like my mother,” she said, “But she has been dead for some time.”

  “Perhaps I saw her when I was young and that is why,” Lady Cora replied. “No matter. It is wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

  It had taken little persuasion for Lady Cora to agree to chaperone Regina. It might have been because Regina had lied and said that Lord Harrison was her cousin, whom she had not seen in years.

  “He quite disappeared off the face of the earth,” she informed Lady Cora upon their meeting. “My parents wish me to make acquaintance with him once again, in light of his return to proper society.”

  Lady Cora, as Lady Morrison had hinted in her letters, was a dear friend to Lord Harrison. She had been more than happy to help his ‘darling’ young cousin and he get reacquainted.

  “Honestly, Miss Regina.” Lady Cora gently took Regina’s shoulder and turned her so that she might look into her eyes. “I know that in its own way, family can be more intimidating than any stranger. If you need another day to brace yourself, then I shall not judge you.”

  “He expects my coming today,” Regina said, unable to confide more without giving the game up.

  “I’m sure that he will understand,” Lady Cora replied.

  As Regina stood there debating, the front door flew open. An
d there he stood.

  Lord Harrison.

  He looked more handsome than she had remembered. His eyes shone in the sunlight. They contrasted well with his dark hair. He had a strong stature, one that she could easily picture astride a horse. If they were going by looks alone, Regina was certain Bridget would have chosen him.

  Furthermore, he looked every inch a noble. There was something in his bearing that showed it. It reminded Regina of Bridget’s confidence. They would make a good couple, she decided. They were both the handsomest people she had ever seen.

  “Are you going to hover outside all day?” Lord Harrison asked. “Or are you going to come inside?”

  Regina nearly jumped out of her skin. “I, uh, that is—”

  Lord Harrison sighed. “Come inside. It won’t do for you to be seen hovering outside of my house. Unless you would like two scandals about your family instead of just the one.”

  “You needn’t scare her in such a fashion,” Lady Cora replied, ascending the steps to go into the house. “Banging open doors like a banshee.”

  “I take it you are her chaperone?” Lord Harrison asked.

  “You’d think you were being led to the guillotine,” Lady Cora quipped. “Yes. Come inside, Miss Regina. I’m sure Harrison here won’t be able to resist giving you the tour.”

  Regina actually liked the idea of a house tour. She quite liked decorations and furnishings. As if sensing this, Lady Cora groaned. “I was only… oh never mind. Give your tour, Harrison. Make it quick.”

  The house was very nicely furnished. Regina rather liked the style of it. She was surprised, for she had heard that a house done up by a single man was not often in good taste.

  “Whitefern is rather a hodgepodge of generations,” Lord Harrison said, as if reading her mind. “My father bought this flat and urged my mother to decorate it how she chose. It is to her taste.”