'Lord Frayne, come in. Shall we toss for who takes white?'
He grinned at her, tempted to allow her the advantage, but decided she would resent any hint of condescension. He took a coin from his pocket and asked her to call.
He won the toss, but detected no sign of dismay in her face. She gestured to the table and seated herself on the chair behind the black pieces. He removed his coat and sat facing her.
'You do not object to my informality?' he asked.
'Of course not. My grandfather always said it was important to be comfortable if one was to concentrate properly.'
For the first time he noticed her own gown, a pale blue muslin in a plain style, with short puffed sleeves and a high neck with a small ruffle. It made her look no more than sixteen. She wore a simple gold locket which she had been fingering, but she let go of it and smiled slightly.
'Your move, my lord.'
He pushed a pawn forward almost at random, and the game started. At first he paid little attention to Damaris's moves, which did not appear to follow any recognized pattern, until he became aware of his own lack of progress. He had not been able either to take any of her pieces or tempt her into moving any of them into vulnerable positions. He began to pay more attention to the game. Clearly he was suffering from his lack of concentration.
Her play was, he decided after a while, when she had captured two of his pawns, somewhat unconventional. He did not recognize any of the openings he had been taught. He began to concentrate more closely, and moved up his knight in readiness to attack. The move was blocked, and to his dismay, a move he had not seen coming, one of his bishops and the knight were both under threat. He had to lose one or other of them.
Ten minutes later he believed he had recovered his position, having captured two of her pieces, but again she outmanoeuvred him, and he had to sacrifice a rook.
He was beginning to think this game was not to be the easy win he had anticipated. He had played often, and thought he was sufficiently knowledgeable to understand his opponents' tactics, but this was different. Damaris was either having the most amazing luck, or she was far more skilled than he had expected. He settled down more seriously as they entered the middle game.
***
Chapter 8
Damaris looked at the clock. They had been playing for two hours, and she was in sight of victory. At first she had been doing well, then Lord Frayne had suddenly improved. She realized he had not at first been concentrating, because he thought her easy prey. The notion had infuriated her, and she had needed to be firm with herself not to let it affect her play.
Her king was advancing, and Lord Frayne did not have the pieces with which to block it. She felt a moment of relief, rather than triumph. He had been a much stronger opponent than she had anticipated, and once or twice she had seriously wondered whether she could win. She had been over-confident too, she thought, and suddenly the possibility she might after all lose her home to him frightened her. She knew she did not wish for that. She loved the place, had known no other home, and it held so many happy memories of her childhood and her beloved grandfather. Then it was all over. Lord Frayne was checkmated, and he nodded acceptance.
'You are very skilled,' he commented as Damaris collected together the beautifully carved pieces, one of her grandfather's favourite sets that had come from China, and restored them to their box, a small but intricately carved sandalwood chest lined with velvet.
'My grandfather taught me,' she said briefly. 'And he had several books in his library which he encouraged me to read. He searched for a long time for a copy of Cessoli's book, but had to be content with Caxton's The Game and Playe of the Chesse, which was based on it, and one of the first books he printed on his new press. Have you seen Castiglione's The Book of the Courtier? He had a copy of Sir Thomas Hoby's translation, and many later books.'
'I confess I don't know either. Your grandfather must have been a real expert if he studied books such as those. I did know that chess was once used to teach war strategy.'
'Yes, it was. And Benjamin Franklin said it taught foresight, circumspection, and caution.'
Luke laughed as he shrugged on his coat.
'I should have paid heed to him. I have been guilty of lack of caution, accepting your challenge when I did not know you were such an expert. When do we have our second game, so that I may attempt to have my revenge? Lady Gordon will permit us to play here again, I assume?'
'May we wait a few days before making arrangements, my lord? Mary's children are not well, and I fear they may be developing the measles, even though the doctor says it is just a fever.'
'So you are a medical expert too?'
Damaris frowned. Was he making fun of her? She really could not decide. One moment she would be feeling charitable towards him, then something would cause her to be angry. Why were her emotions, normally so calm, veering so wildly?
'I do not claim any special medical knowledge,' she said sharply, 'but I have helped to nurse children in Frayne village who have had the same symptoms and then developed measles. As their nurse became ill with the disease just before they came to London it seems likely to me they will succumb.'
He did not seem to notice her curtness.
'Are you not afraid of catching it yourself?'
Damaris smiled and shook her head. The recollection warmed her heart.
'I had the disease when I was seven years old. My grandfather nursed me. He did not sleep in a bed for three nights when I was suffering most. I believe one cannot catch it twice.'
'Your grandfather sounds like an exceptional man. I only knew my father's view of him.'
'And that was no doubt not very complimentary.'
Lord Frayne frowned and shook his head.
'In fact, it was not as you might have expected. Yes, he was angry at losing Frayne Castle in such a stupid way, but it was anger at himself. Your grandfather did not wish to hold him to the wager, but my father insisted. It had been won fairly, and he had in fact been the main instigator of that game, even though he had been in his cups at the time.'
Damaris was surprised. She had always assumed the older Lord Frayne would have held resentment against her grandfather, and this was why his son was so determined to get it back.
'Grandfather was a clever man. He was young when he won the Castle, but already he had been making the inn where your father met him into a successful business, and planning to buy another. He would have been wealthy in the end. He has increased the value of the Frayne Castle estate, and built another fortune on the start it gave him.'
'As well as marrying a fortune.'
Damaris nodded.
'That was a bonus, of course, but it was a love match, and the fortune my grandmother brought to it was incidental. So was the marriage of my parents a love match. And after their examples, I can never contemplate any other sort of marriage. But since I will never find any man to compare with my grandfather I will not marry.'
'So my only hope of regaining Frayne Castle is by defeating you at our next two games of chess.'
Damaris frowned and shook her head. How could he, so lightly, refer to his impertinent offer, made solely to win back Frayne Castle?
'You never actually held the Castle yourself, my lord, so regaining is perhaps the wrong word. It will be your family's gain, should you happen to win our next encounters.'
He laughed and moved towards the front part of the drawing room. Damaris went with him.
'I must bid Lady Gordon farewell, and give her my thanks. I look forward to dining here tonight.'
To Damaris's surprise, and some little consternation, for no man had ever made such a gesture to her before, he took her hand and lifted it to his lips, but instead of kissing the back of it, as she expected, he turned it over and dropped a light kiss on her wrist. She felt a shiver go through her whole body, and it took an immense effort of will not to snatch her hand away. It was another impertinence, and she should have been angry. Instead she felt flustered and
obscurely flattered.
He dropped her hand, to her relief, and passed through the double doors. She followed and saw Mary, the shawl draped over her, stretched out on the sopha and apparently fast asleep.
Lord Frayne laughed softly.
'An attentive chaperone!' he whispered.
'Pray don't disturb her! She must be so tired, Tommy has kept her awake for several nights now.'
They moved quietly out of the room.
'Shall I tell my aunt the dinner tonight is cancelled?' he asked.
'By no means. Mary would be mortified, and she will feel much better after a sleep.'
'Then I will take my leave of you, and look forward to our next game. I must spend the interval you have permitted me in reading all the manuals on chess I can find.'
*
Mary, though pale, insisted the sleep that afternoon, unintended as it was, had helped, and she was quite back to her normal state. She was feeling guilty about her dereliction of a chaperone's duties, but Damaris laughed, and told her they had been too absorbed in their contest to have any other thoughts. She suppressed her memory of that surprising kiss. It had meant nothing, and her confusion had merely been due to the surprise, the unexpectedness of his gesture.
The children were both listless, but made no difficulty about being put to bed early, and the ladies were able to dress for dinner without being disturbed.
Damaris had a new silk gown in a delicate shade of orange, which Netta originally had told her was a mistake.
'Not many girls can wear that colour,' she'd said with a sniff, but when Damaris, resisting her attempts to bring out a pale blue silk, donned the gown Netta had to admit it suited her.
'Your emeralds, and the green Norwich shawl will go with it. It's getting colder outside, and it will be raining before midnight.'
Mary wore a gown in a deep rose-coloured silk, embroidered with silver thread, and had, for the first time since Damaris had known her, used a faint touch of rouge on her pale cheeks, which helpted to disguise the worry and weariness in her eyes.
Two friends unknown to Damaris arrived first, Sir Patrick and Lady Gilliam. Susan Gilliam had been a debutante in the same year as Mary, she explained, and they had been friends ever since, though meeting rarely, as the Gilliams lived in Gloucestershire. Mary needed some support, she confessed, to sustain her through a dinner with the Frayne family. Barbara had refused the invitation, as her husband had been called out of town, so it was just Lord Frayne, his aunt and cousins.
The friends were catching up on news when the Fraynes arrived. Mrs Frayne bustled in, exclaiming loudly at the unseasonable cold, and went straight to the fireplace, where she stood warming her hands. She wore magenta, a strident colour which clashed with her red cheeks and the old-fashioned ruby necklace that rested on her ample bosom. Had she also used rouge, Damaris asked herself. If so, she had applied it with a far heavier hand than Mary, for the patches stood out in stark contrast to her otherwise pale skin.
Jennifer was dressed in a sickly shade of mustard which did nothing for her sallow complexion. She clutched a multi-coloured shawl round her shoulders, and after greeting Mary and being introduced to Lady Gilliam nodded briefly to Damaris and promptly turned her back to talk to Sir Patrick. How, Damaris wondered, could she have offended the woman? It had felt like a snub, but apart from meeting her briefly at balls they had barely exchanged a word.
Lord Frayne had entered the room with his other cousin, and Damaris eyed Clarence with interest. So this was Luke Frayn's heir. She knew almost nothing about him, but decided he was not in the least like the Earl, there seemed to be no family resemblance. He clearly aspired to be a dandy, for his shirt points were uncomfortably high, and he sported several fobs and a bejewelled quizzing glass. His garishly patterned waistcoat, however, was spotted with flakes of snuff he had omitted to brush off. He was so thin she rather suspected he wore padding on his shoulders and his calves, which looked too shapely to belong to the rest of his somewhat skinny frame. The Earl, in contrast, was immaculately but plainly dressed, in evening clothes which fitted his muscular form perfectly. He had no need of adornments to enhance his looks, his only one being a signet ring.
It would be a disaster, she found herself thinking, if such a man became the next Earl. Luke Frayne needed to marry and beget sons. And why should such a thought make her feel hot all over?
Only Humphrey was still expected, and Damaris stole a look at the carriage clock on the mantlepiece. It was getting late. Mary had felt obliged to invite him, as Damaris's trustee and guardian, and she needed a spare man to make up her numbers. Damaris fumed at his discourtesy in being late, but just as Mary was about to warn the butler to delay serving dinner, he arrived.
'A sudden emergency, I fear,' he explained to Mary in pompous tones. 'There was a message from Frayne Castle which needed an answer at once. Nothing you need concern yourself with, my dear cousin,' he said to Damaris, and she felt a sudden unaccustomed urge to hit his complacent face. The Castle was hers, she was entitled to know all concerning it.
What in the world was happening to her? She had never before been violent, and as well as lashing out at Lord Frayne on that fateful day she now wanted to hit her cousin. Was this the effect of being in London? Or was it the thought of being in the world of sophisticated polite society, rather than the rude, bucolic villagers at Frayne, which caused her to want to rebel? She stifled a giggle, and saw Lord Frayne looking quizzically at her. She hoped he had not read her thoughts.
'Are you not anxious to discover the details of this emergency?' he asked softly as he came to speak to her.
She shook her head and denied it, despite the fact she did want to know.
'It's probably no more than a message to say the hay harvest has all been gathered,' she said. 'Humphrey likes to make himself look important, and I suspect he is trying to make me feel concern at being away from the Castle. He did not wish me to come to London, you see, and this is his rather petty way of punishing me.'
They went down to the dining room. Lord Frayne was on Mary's right and Damaris next to him, then Clarence. Opposite were Sir Patrick and Jennifer. Humphrey, directed to Jennifer's left, in the middle of the table, looked offended. Had he expected to be next to Mary, the most important guest, instead of being relegated to a position he would later, she knew, complain was below the salt?
Mary was talking to Lord Frayne so Damaris turned to Clarence. He returned monosyllabic answers to her questions on where he lived in London, and what he enjoyed doing when the Season was over.
'Do you go Brighton later?' she asked.
'No.'
'The country, then?'
'I stay in London. What is there to do in the country?'
She refrained from telling him all the sports and activities that were available. Somehow he did not look a sportsman, and she could not imagine him riding to hounds, or tramping the fields to shoot pigeons and rabbits. He would be a terrible landowner if he ever did succeed to his cousin's acres.
'I understand you and your mother and sister live in one of Lord Frayne's properties. Is that in Yorkshire?'
'No. There's only Frayne Castle in Yorkshire, and your grandfather cheated us of that. Mama prefers the Norfolk property.'
Damaris swallowed her angry retort at his incivility, and abruptly turned away from him. He was a mannerless boor, and she could well understand Lord Frayne's desire to produce another heir. It just was not going to be her function to help him.
She glanced across the table and saw Jennifer watching her. There was a calculating look in her eyes, and Jennifer turned away when she saw Damaris looking in her direction, and began to chatter to Sir Patrick. Humphrey, flanked by Jennifer and her mother, for the moment had no one to talk to, as Mrs Frayne was holding forth to Sir Thomas in a loud voice. He looked disgruntled and Damaris sympathized. The whole family was impossible.
'How many treatises on chess have you read this afternoon, Miss Hallem?' Lord Frayne suddenly asked, a
nd Damaris turned to him in relief. At least with him she could have some sensible conversation.
She laughed, and shook her head.
'I have none here in London with me,' she told him.
'Then I may have some advantage in our next contest, if I can acquire the ones you clearly follow.'
'We shall see,' she said, and determined to send to Yorkshire for some of the books. She needed to prepare too.
'How are the children?'
'They do not seem worse, and are so tired that fortunately they went to sleep, so Mary does not have to worry about them tonight.'
'Instead she has to entertain my family. I heard what Clarence said, and I apologize for him. I will take him to task later. His remark was unpardonable, and the sooner he leaves London the better. He is eager to have a commission in a cavalry regiment now we seem to be winning in the Peninsula, and I am half inclined to grant him his wish. Some army discipline would do him good.'
'Your cousin? A soldier? In the cavalry?'
Damaris could not keep the incredulity out of her voice, and Lord Frayne laughed.
'Precisely! He does not look a military figure. I suspect it is sheer boredom, and a desire to escape from his mother. She, naturally, does not approve. She believes I want to send him to his death.'
'Oh, how can she!'
'You don't know my aunt. That is fortunate for you. She is jealous of me, thinks I am resentful of my heir. She does not believe I could so simply disinherit him if I married and had sons. The only wife for me she could countenance would be Jennifer, but I have no intention of making my aunt my mother-in-law too!'
'Good heavens, no!'
Damaris felt her cheeks grow warm at her instinctive response, and her embarrassment increased when he grinned at her and she recalled his proposal and her angry dismissal of it. She had barely known him then, and had been incensed at the suggestion he proposed in order to gain possession of Frayne Castle. He had also wanted an heir, and considered her capable of supplying one, which had only increased her anger. She was no brood mare and did not mean to be treated as one.
Marriage Gamble Page 10
