The Double Wager

by Mary Balogh

  Within seconds, only three people were left in the room. "Have a seat, Tallant," Eversleigh directed, leading his wife to a sofa and seating himself beside her. He still held her hand on his arm. "Now," he said, fixing his brother-in-law with a sleepy stare, "I believe you owe her Grace an apology, Tallant?"

  "What?"

  "Forgive me," the duke continued, "perhaps in all the excitement of the last few minutes my hearing became defective. I thought I heard you declare publicly that my wife is not a lady."

  Sir Peter's jaw dropped. "Those were not quite my words," he said, "but we all know that Henrietta is not exactly everyone's ideal image of a lady of quality."

  "She is mine," Eversleigh replied softly.

  Henry stole a startled look at his hard profile. She could hardly believe her ears. All her life she had been labeled a tomboy. Her family had always lamented, if in a loving way, her lack of feminine charms. Could the very correct and sophisticated Duke of Eversleigh be seriously claiming that she was his ideal lady? But of course he was not. He was merely a proud man protecting the honor of his property. She sighed.

  "I was not offended, Marius," she said, pulling her hand away from his at last. In fact, I would hate to be the typical lady. I should have to plan the pianoforte and sing and embroider and simper. Ugh!"

  "Tallant?" Eversleigh asked, momentarily ignoring his wife.

  "Well, of course I am sorry if I hurt anyone's feelings," Sir Peter blustered. "I was merely using a brother's privilege of speaking his mind."

  "Ah," said Eversleigh, "was that what you were doing too when you planned Eton for Philip and a new governess for Penelope?"

  "I am their legal guardian," Sir Peter said stiffly. "I have a responsibility to them."

  "Ah, but it is a responsibility that you largely abdicated to me when we made an agreement prior to my marriage," the duke replied.

  "It seems that you did not realize what a burden that task might be," Sir Peter commented.

  "Tallant," Eversleigh said, raising his quizzing glass and viewing the other lazily through it, "as I see it, there is room for only one master in my home. It may be unreasonable of me, my dear fellow, but I have always insisted that that master be me. Now, I really cannot have you storm into my house when I am not even present and upset my wife, attempt to dismiss my employees, and try to organize the lives of children whom you gave into my charge. I believe I make myself clear?"

  "Am I then to stand idly by while my brother and sister frolic around London without restraint and make perfect asses of themselves?" Sir Peter asked, shaking with anger.

  "Ah, but you see, my dear fellow," Eversleigh replied, "they were not without chaperonage, had you not snatched them away. And are children to be labeled asses merely because they behave as children?"

  Sir Peter rose to his feet. "I felt rather sorry for you, Eversleigh," he said, "when you paid your addresses to Henrietta without any close acquaintance with her. I thought you would soon discover your mistake. Now I believe you have gained only what you deserve."

  "Quite so," Eversleigh agreed amiably. "I believe you might be right, dear fellow."

  The "dear fellow" stormed out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the growls of Brutus, who was still stretched across the doorway of the room.

  Henry jumped to her feet and clapped her hands. "Marius, I could hug you!" she cried, her eyes glowing at him. "I have wanted all my life to hear someone give Peter a set-down like that."

  "Could you, my love?" Eversleigh asked, also standing, so that he was very close to her.

  Henry stood spellbound, a strange churning feeling low in her stomach- Her eyes locked with her husband's. "Marius," she said at last, almost in a whisper, "are we a terrible burden to you? We always get into such scrapes, you know, and I think Peter was right-I am not really a lady. "

  "Ah, but you said yourself that you do not really wish to be," he said.

  "But I do not want to be an embarrassment to you, Marius," she said wistfully.

  "You would have to try very hard to be that, my dear," he said, the familiar gleam in his eyes. He reached up a hand and stroked her cheek lightly with one knuckle.

  "Why do you put up with us, Marius?" she asked.

  "For the reason I mentioned before our marriage," he replied. "You amuse me." He continued to stroke her cheek.

  Henry was confused. She wanted to move away from him; she did not like being within his aura of power and masculinity. And yet she found herself involuntarily leaning her cheek into his knuckle. She wanted him to have no binding claim on her, and yet she felt a sinking of her spirits at his last words. What did she want? She did not know. She only felt overwhelmingly grateful that he had taken her part against her brother and won a victory for her. Yet, even this feeling annoyed her. She did not want to appear weak and in need of protection.

  Henry's confusion was suddenly multiplied tenfold when Eversleigh quite unexpectedly drew her into his arms and covered her lips with his own. She was so surprised, in fact, that it was several seconds before she realized that she had put her arms up around his neck and arched her hips and thighs against his. She felt the heat rise in him and the kiss deepen before she began to push furiously at his chest.

  "Don't do that!" she demanded breathlessly as they drew apart. "You know I dislike it."-

  He stood, seemingly relaxed, a laugh in his eyes. "Poor little Henry!" he said. "When will you realize that you are a woman?"

  "Oh!" she said crossly. "First my brother says I am not a lady, and now you say I am not a woman."

  "And I say that Phil will be reaching the far stages of boredom downstairs in the library with nothing to do but look at books," said Eversleigh. "Come, my love, do not be cross with me. I promise to try to curb my animal instincts. "

  And he strolled from the room, leaving Henry's mind and body in turmoil.

  **********************************************************************************

  In the library, Eversleigh was soon offering an indignant Philip a choice: either to spend three days indoors doing extra tasks in the schoolroom, or to receive a thrashing there and then.

  "But I did not do anything so very wrong," the boy protested. "Pen and I knew how to get back to Manny and Mr. Ridley. We were never lost. And we were not interfering with those men. We were merely asking some questions. If Peter had not hauled us away, there would have been no problem."

  "It is not for any of those things that I propose to punish you," the duke explained, strolling over to his desk and perching on the end of it. "It is your behavior to Miss Manford that I take exception to."

  Philip stared, uncomprehending. "Manny?" lie said. "She is used to us. We are always playing pranks on her, or we forget and do things without thinking. But she knows that we mean no harm. She don't mind."

  "On the contrary, Phil," said Eversleigh, "it seemed to me when I entered the drawing room earlier that she minded a great deal."

  "That was only because Peter had been giving her a great scold," Philip explained. "She was not mad at us. And she would not have been so upset if Peter had not kidnapped Pen and me and brought us home so that Manny thought we were lost in good earnest. It was all his fault. "

  "Was it, dear boy?" the duke asked. "Was not your disobedience to your governess at the root of the whole matter?"

  Philip stared, unable to think of an answer.

  "You see, Phil," Eversleigh said, standing and wandering over to the fireplace, where he took up his favorite stance leaning an elbow on the mantel, "ladies in Miss Manford's situation can lead a miserable life. Many people feel that they do not have to be treated with the same courtesy and respect that one would afford to a lady of independent means. A true gentleman will not make the distinction. You frightened the lady this afternoon and caused her to become an object of anger and contempt."

  Philip continued to stare. He had turned noticeably paler. "I had not thought of it that way before," he said.

  "No," Eversleigh agre
ed, "I thought you had not." He considered the boy in silence for a while. "Well, Phil, which is it to be?"

  Philip straightened his shoulders. "I'll take the thrashing, sir," he said.

  Eversleigh did not move. "Good lad!" he said. "If you realize that you deserve it, Phil, it seems that you probably do not need it. You are dismissed."

  "Now, sir?" stammered Philip. "D-do you want me to return some other time?"

  "Not particularly, dear boy," said Eversleigh. "I find myself tolerably contented without your company. But I will require it if I find you disregarding the feelings of Miss Manford again, Phil. Somehow, though, I do not expect it."

  "Thank you, sir," Philip yelled, and he tore through the doorway before his brother-in-law could change his mind.

  Chapter 7

  Henry did not see a great deal of Giles in the few weeks following his arrival in London. He avoided the round of social events that she now attended almost with enjoyment. He did visit her and the twins occasionally, and she sometimes spotted him in Hyde Park during the afternoons, when the whole fashionable world, it seemed, paraded on horseback, in carriages, and on foot. He was always with a group of fashionable young men, some of them outright dandies. She noticed that Giles, too, now dressed in the height of fashion. His collar points were often so high that Henry wondered how he could turn his head or even see to right or left. His coats were so close-fitting that she imagined he must have been poured into them. His boots were so shiny that they must surely be polished with champagne, an affectation that was current among some of the young bucks, she had heard.

  Henry was amused at her brother's obvious enjoyment of town life. She had always thought he was like she used to be, happy only in the country when free of social restraints.

  She became alarmed for him one afternoon, though, when he visited. The twins were away from home. Eversleigh had begun to spend more time with them since their escapade at the balloon launching. On this particular day, they had gone to the Tower of London to see the gate leading into the building from the River Thames that condemned persons used to enter prior to execution. They

  also hoped to see the dungeons and the axes used to decapitate condemned nobles.

  "There are other things to see there, you know," Eversleigh had suggested in his languid way.

  "Such as?" Penelope asked.

  "Furniture, jewels, a magnificent view of London from the turrets."

  "Ugh! Let us stick with the interesting stuff," Penelope replied.

  "Quite so, Penny," he agreed. "An admirable decision."

  Henry had reluctantly remained behind because she was expecting callers. The guests left soon after the arrival of Giles.

  "You are very quiet, Giles," she remarked when they were alone together.

  "Well, I don't know those people," he replied.

  "No, it's not that," she said, considering him for a while. "Is town life not agreeing with you?"

  He shrugged. "It's well enough."

  "What is the matter?"

  "Nothing is the matter, Henry," he said impatiently. "Don't fuss so."

  "I know you too well, Giles," she protested, refusing to drop the topic. "Is it Peter? Or Marian? Are they giving you a hard time? Why do you not come to live here? Marius would not mind, truly."

  "Henry, don't be such a bumble brain!" her brother said lovingly. "Can you seriously imagine me moving in with Eversleigh? Anyway, Peter and Marian are all right.'; I think Peter is reserving his energies for sending me back to Oxford in the autumn."

  "It must be money, then," she decided. "Are you pockets to let, Giles?"

  "Nothing to signify," he replied, rising from his chair and pacing restlessly across the room. "You used not to be such a shrew, Henry. You were always a good fellow."

  "And you used to confide in me, Giles," she returned tartly. "It is money, is it not? You have been spending on clothes and jewels, like as not, to keep up with your friends. How much do you owe?"

  "Nothing that I cannot pay sooner or later," he said sullenly.

  "How much, Giles?"

  He paused and rocked on his heels. "It is not as simple as clothes, Henry."

  She looked sharply at him. "Oh, not gambling, Giles," she cried.

  He strode back across the room and sat down opposite her. "I started by playing just for fun and for small stakes," he said. "Then I lost a bit, and I owed money all over the city for boots and clothes and such. I thought if I played for higher stakes, my luck would have to change. I promised myself that I would stop playing for all time if I could just win enough money to cover my debts."

  "And you did not?"

  "I came close one night," he said ruefully, "but my luck did not hold. I lost all my winnings and more besides. And since then I have got in pretty deep."

  "How much do you owe, Giles?"

  "Oh, nothing to worry your pretty head over," he said airily. "I shall come about."

  "But not by more gambling, Giles?"

  "No," he agreed slowly. "I shall have to think of something else."

  "But what?"

  He hesitated. I shall have to go to the moneylenders," lie said. "With very careful prudence I shall pay it off eventually. At least I shall not have creditors hounding me at every turn."

  Henry shot out of her chair. "Moneylenders?" she cried. 1 have heard of them, Giles. It is said that once you get into their clutches, you never get free. They charge interest that just builds and builds."

  "Well, I have no choice," he said emphatically. "And it is not your worry, Henry. I ought not even to have told you.

  "Indeed, I am glad you did," she retorted. "You must promise me not to go to a moneylender, Giles. I shall pay your debt. How much is it?"

  He laughed mirthlessly. "I am afraid it is beyond any help you might offer, Henry. But thank you, anyway."

  "How much, Giles?"

  He stared at her for a moment. "Three thousand," he said.

  "Three thousand!" she shrieked. "Giles, have you taken leave of your senses? You must have been in gambling dens every spare moment since you were sent down."

  "Don't say anything to Eversleigh or to Peter," Giles said. "I shall work this out somehow, Henry."

  "Yes, in debtors' prison!" she replied sharply. "Giles, I shall get the money. And do not worry, I shall not beg it from Marius. He has been extremely generous. I have almost enough. The rest I shall get easily. But you must promise me not to go to a moneylender. "Will you, Giles? Please?"

  Giles was very doubtful and reluctant. At first he refused to accept help in any form from his sister. But gradually he salvaged his pride by declaring that he would accept the money from her as a loan, to be paid back as quickly as he possibly could. He promised neither to visit a moneylender nor to blow his brains out. He was to return in three days' time to collect the money from his sister.

  As soon as he had left, Henry ran up to her room and threw herself onto the bed. She lay staring hopelessly up at the canopy over her head. She had no idea how she was to raise the money to help Giles. She had not lied to him when she had said that Marius was generous. He showered gifts on her and made her a very generous money allowance. But Henry was a spendthrift. She could not have money without spending it. And her main clothing bills went directly to her husband, without touching her purse." She knew without troubling to look that her purse held only a small cluster of loose change, a few guineas at the most. It would not go a long way to paying Giles' debt.

  She considered breaking her promise and confiding the problem to Marius. She had no doubt at all that he would immediately, and almost without question, write out a bank draft for the full amount and would not even demand that Giles repay it. But she could not bring herself to do so, for two reasons. She had made a promise to Giles, and according to her code of honor, a promise was totally binding, especially when it had been made to her brother, with whom she had always been very close. Second, she could not bring herself to admit to Marius that yet another member of her family was in
a scrape. She craved his good

  opinion, though why this was so she had not stopped to consider. She could not tell him.

  She did think of asking him for the money under some other pretext. But how could she justify asking for three thousand pounds? A new bonnet? New kid gloves? There was no possible way she could do it.

  Henry was still searching her mind for a solution an hour later when she heard the voices of the twins in the distance and the barking of Brutus. She sighed and rose to ring for Betty. It was time to dress for dinner. She did not want to be caught lying on her bed in the daytime, something she almost never did. Sometimes Marius wandered into her room from the adjoining dressing room to talk with her for a few minutes.

  **********************************************************************************

  Henry was still wrestling with her problem the following afternoon when she took her phaeton for a drive in the park. She had stayed at home all morning and had instructed the butler to tell any visitors that she was away from home. But all she had to show for her concentrated thinking was a headache and a cross mood. She decided that she needed some fresh air and light conversation with some of her acquaintances. She felt slightly cheered by the court of young men who were soon riding alongside her, lavishly complimenting her on her new blue bonnet and soliciting her hand for dances at Lady Sefton's ball the following evening. She gave a special smile to Oliver Cranshawe, who was on foot and just bidding farewell to a trio of ladies, who were also out strolling in the park.

  "Good afternoon, your Grace," he called, flashing his white smile and bowing gracefully as he swept off his hat. "Your beauty rivals the day, as usual."

  "And you speak with a flattering tongue, as usual, sir," she replied. "Come, take a turn in the phaeton with me and cheer me up."