The Last Gamble

by Mary Nichols

  He had a small flask of brandy and put it to her lips. ‘Miss Sadler—Helen, my darling, stay awake—please.’

  ‘Not Sadler,’ she murmured, choking on the fiery liquid. ‘Sanghurst. Helen Sanghurst.’

  Sanghurst! Where had he heard that name? ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, enfolding her in his arms, rocking her. ‘Nothing matters now except keeping you awake.’

  ‘If you only knew the truth…’

  ‘It is not important.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I lied.’

  ‘About being a companion?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And about where you are going?’

  ‘No, that is true. Going to Killearn. Going to the Earl of Strathrowan. Papa made him my guardian…’ She could not keep her eyes open and her voice was becoming fainter and fainter. She was no longer cold, could feel nothing, except an urgent desire for sleep.

  Strathrowan! His own father was her guardian! That was why he felt instinctively he had to look after her; she was Lord Sanghurst’s daughter and he had met her before, long ago in India when he was hardly out of petticoats and she was a baby.

  ‘Helen, wake up!’ He shook her almost savagely and then crushed her to him. ‘Helen, you must not go to sleep, you must not. I love you. I need you. We will be married…’

  But she was slumbering and did not hear him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  DUNCAN lay down beside Helen along the seat, wrapping the rugs round them both, holding her close, trying to warm her with his own body, talking and shaking her alternately, making her groan and protest, but he could not let her slip away. He told her of his home at Strathrowan, of his brother and sister-in-law and his nephew and niece. He told her she would be made welcome and everyone would love her.

  He talked about India, knowing she would not remember it. He did not recall much himself, except the journey home, though it had not been home to him then; he had never been to Scotland. His father had not expected to inherit, being a second son, and had gone out to the sub-continent to make his fortune. In that he had succeeded, marrying the daughter of a nabob and siring two sons, before his wife had died giving birth to a still-born daughter.

  Duncan had been ten and his brother fifteen when their father learned that his father and brother were both dead and he had become the Earl of Strathrowan. Home they had come to Scotland, home to the mountains and glens of Killearn, which Duncan had come to love and still loved even after the affair with Arabella had sent him far from it.

  He barely remembered Lord Sanghurst, who had left India two or three years before they did, but he had heard of him since. He had been a well-known figure, something in government, a consort of the Prince Regent, though when George became King, he had fallen from favour. He had been a rake and an inveterate gambler, who would bet on raindrops on the window pane if he happened to be confined indoors because of inclement weather.

  Duncan’s father, who had once called him friend, had long since ceased to stand buff for him, saying that Sanghurst’s gambling had killed his wife and would ruin his daughter if he were not stopped and while people continued to allow him to owe them money, he would never change. When he was in favour at Court, he had been allowed endless credit, but after his fall from grace the dunners closed in on him. In the end he had taken the coward’s way out and shot himself. It had been the talk of the ton, even in Vienna. Poor, dear Helen, no wonder she hated gambling.

  ‘We will be married,’ he repeated again and again, though whether she heard or understood what he said, he did not know. I promise never to gamble, never even to mention the word “wager” if it upsets you so. I am a second son, but I have a good annuity from my maternal grandmother, besides my captain’s pay. I can do better. I’ll join the Diplomatic Corps. They say I am a good negotiator…’ On and on he went, hardly drawing breath, trying to make her answer, to say something, anything, just to let him know she was conscious. But she had not spoken for some time now and he was afraid…

  Helen could hear a voice, quiet, urgent, ragged-edged, but she could not understand the words; she knew only that as long as the voice was there, she was safe from harm. Then through the mist which surrounded her brain and refused to let her think, she heard other sounds, dogs barking, a horse neighing, more voices. Momentarily she knew that whatever had been keeping her warm was gone and icy air fanned her face, then she was being carried.

  She moaned a little and heard the voice again, clear as day. ‘Thank God, she’s alive.’ And then she was lying in something which was carrying her over the snow and the warmth and the soft voice were with her again and she sighed in contentment and slept and this time no one tried to shake her into wakefulness.

  When she woke she was in a bed. It had all been a dream, a nightmare of epic proportions. Soon Daisy would come with hot water and chocolate to drink. She would lay out her clothes, chattering about the day, whether it was fine or wet and whether she would need stout boots or light shoes if she was going out walking. She turned her head towards the light. The curtains were drawn back and sunshine filled the room.

  But the curtains were unfamiliar and the room was different. It was huge, with a large four-poster bed in which she was almost lost, a big wardrobe and several smaller chests and a long mirror. There was a thick blue and pink carpet on the floor and a fire burning in the grate. She moved again and a face came into focus, a finely-drawn face, surrounded by curls of golden hair. ‘Who are you? Where am I?’

  The vision smiled. ‘I am Viscountess Blair, my dear. Margaret to you. And you are safe at home.’

  ‘Blair?’ Her heart began to thump uncontrollably. It had not been a dream, it had been real. Captain Blair had brought her here. But why? ‘Viscountess?’ she queried. ‘You are Captain Blair’s wife?’

  Lady Blair laughed lightly. ‘No, I am his sister-in-law. He is unmarried, did he not tell you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I remember now.’ The Captain had asked her to marry him and she had refused him, but that was before she had confessed. She had confessed, hadn’t she? That wasn’t part of her dream? ‘He looked after me and saved my life.’

  ‘Yes, I believe he did. Old Hamish McFaddern came to us through the blizzard and guided my husband, that’s the Viscount, and some of the servants with a pony and sled back to where he had left you. You were only half a dozen miles away. If the snow had held back for an hour or so longer, you would have been safe home long before. Duncan blames himself, of course, and he has been very anxious about you.’

  ‘I am deeply indebted to him.’

  ‘We are all truly sorry. You should not have had to face that journey alone but…’

  ‘How long have I been lying here?’

  ‘Three weeks.’

  ‘As long as that?’ she asked, surprised that three weeks of her life should have disappeared without trace. ‘When do you think I might get up?’

  ‘As soon as you feel strong enough. There is no hurry.’

  ‘But I have to go.’ She lifted herself on her elbow.

  ‘Go? Go where?’

  ‘To Killearn. To the Earl of Strathrowan, he is expecting me.’

  ‘But that is exactly where you are. Did Duncan not tell you?’

  ‘I am at Killearn?’ It was unbelievable. What had the Captain told her? ‘I heard a voice, but I was so sleepy, I am not at all sure what was said. Oh, I am so confused.’

  ‘It is little wonder, my dear, but it is simple enough. The Earl of Strathrowan is my father-in-law and Duncan’s father. We sent for Duncan to come home because the Earl was ill and we thought it was high time he left off his wandering. When Papa-in-law heard from Mr Benstead about you, he wrote to Duncan at his London club, knowing he was on his way, and asked him to look out for you and bring you to us…’

  ‘He knew who I was all along?’ No wonder he said he hated pretence. He had given her the opportunity to tell the truth and she had let it go. How could she have been so stupid?

  ‘No,’ Margaret said. ‘That was
the strange thing about it. He was so anxious to come home, he did not go to his club and he never received the letter. It was all a most extraordinary coincidence that he should meet you as he did.’

  ‘And I delayed him with my foolishness. The Earl…’

  Margaret smiled. ‘Fortunately, Papa-in-law made a full recovery, though he has to be careful not to exert himself.’

  This was almost too much to digest at once and Helen fell back on the pillow, trying to understand what it all meant. Was this truly her home now? It seemed her fears about not being welcome had been groundless. But had that changed anything? She was still a pauper, still the deceiver. ‘Is Captain Blair still here?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Will he be returning to Europe now that he knows the Earl is well?’

  ‘I do not know. We would like him to stay here, of course, but the decision will be his. It is time he put the past behind him.’

  ‘The past? There was some trouble?’

  ‘He did not tell you about it?’

  ‘No, though he did say something about falling in love and being sent away to get over it. He called it puppy love.’

  Margaret smiled. ‘He was very young, but that is not to say he did not feel very deeply about it. And what made it worse was that Arabella married his boyhood friend and became Lady Macgowan. Papa-in-law blamed himself. He said he was wrong to have sent him away, he should have let the affair run its course, instead of which I believe Duncan brooded over it and that fastened his attachment even more.’

  ‘Why did his lordship object?’

  ‘He thought the match was unsuitable. Second son or no, Duncan was expected to marry someone from a good family with a worthwhile dowry. Second sons cannot entirely rule out the possibility of inheriting—after all, the Earl himself was a second son—and they must take that into consideration when choosing a wife. Arabella Novello’s father had come over from Italy before the war; nothing much was known of him, except that he had made a great deal of money in commerce. The irony of it was that the Macgowans were not so particular; their estate was facing ruin and Mr Novello’s money brought it to rights. Arabella is now Lady Macgowan.’

  ‘The poor man,’ Helen murmured. So that was why he had seemed a little bitter. Indigestion indeed!

  ‘Yes, but after all that, James is dead. He died just over a year ago in a fall in the mountains.’

  ‘Oh. Do you think…?’ Helen could not bring herself to ask and yet she needed desperately to know. ‘Will they…?’

  Margaret smiled and stood up. ‘Who knows? As soon as Arabella heard he was home, she came over by sled to see him. She has been three times already.’ She leaned over and straightened the coverlet. ‘I should not be prattling on about it, you know. Please don’t tell Duncan I spoke of it, he is still very sensitive on the subject.’

  ‘No, I won’t.’

  ‘Good. Now I am going to tell Papa you are well on the way to recovery. Tomorrow you will be able to dress and come downstairs. Flora shall look after you. She is young, but my own maid has trained her and I think she will do you very well.’

  She left and Helen lay back among the pillows, still unable to believe she had arrived. That it was also the home of Captain Blair was almost incredible. All those lies, her false name, her occupation, the story of the nabob’s widow, must all be telling against her now. Unless Captain Blair had said nothing of it. He had certainly not told his sister-in-law of his proposal to her or she would not have mentioned Lady Macgowan.

  Surely, if he had meant it, he would have said something to his family, he would not have let them assume he would take up his old love again. And the lady in question was obviously intent on renewing the courtship. And this time it seemed the Earl would not stand in their way. What had she told him in her half-conscious state? She hadn’t admitted to being in love with him, had she? Oh, why must she fall in love for the first time in her life with someone whose affections were engaged elsewhere?

  She looked up as she heard a soft knock on the door and before she could call out, Duncan had put his head round it, grinning cheerfully. ‘May I come in?’

  She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart and smiled at him. ‘Of course.’

  He strode into the room, even more handsome than she remembered him. He wore a well-fitting frockcoat in deep blue superfine, pantaloon trousers in soft doeskin strapped under his foot inside soft kid pumps. His yellow and blue striped kerseymere waistcoat framed a neckcloth of starched muslin. He sat on the side of the bed and took her hand in his, his expression one of gentle concern. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Better, thank you.’ She tried to smile, but though her lips responded her eyes remained bleak. ‘I must thank you for saving my life and to ask your forgiveness for deceiving you about who I was.’

  ‘Why did you?’

  ‘Pride, I suppose. I did not want anyone to know that Lord Sanghurst’s daughter was penniless and I did not think Lord Strathrowan truly wanted the encumbrance of a ward he had not seen since she was a baby and, if I had to earn my living, then the sooner I became used to the idea the better. I thought travelling incognito would give me a good idea of what that might be like.’

  ‘And you had no notion of who I was?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would it had made any difference if you had? Would you have behaved any differently?’

  ‘No, I do not think so.’

  He smiled. ‘I am glad about that. It is Miss Helen Sadler I came to appreciate for her humanity, to admire for her courage…’

  She drew her breath in sharply; she could not let him go on, it was twisting the knife in the wound. ‘Miss Sadler does not exist, Captain.’

  ‘"What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”’

  ‘Quoting Shakespeare at me does not change anything, Captain Blair. I am still an imposter, a deceiver.’

  ‘You are too hard on yourself. And I am not entirely blameless. Can you forgive me for my lapses from good manners?’

  She smiled, remembering that embrace in the woods when she had realised how wonderful it was to be kissed by him; she could hardly reproach him for it. ‘Yes, please forget it, I have.’

  ‘Have you?’ he queried softly, his warm brown eyes searching hers. ‘Have you also forgotten I asked you to marry me?’

  ‘You asked Miss Sadler. And Miss Sadler refused.’

  ‘You have just said she does not exist. What about Miss Sanghurst? Would she refuse?’

  He was testing her, trying to find out if she expected him to repeat his offer. He would be in a hubble if she did. ‘Yes. Miss Helen Sanghurst and the son of the Earl of Strathrowan are strangers to each other.’

  ‘I am persuaded you do not mean that, not after all we’ve been through.’

  ‘That is precisely the point. We were two people thrown together on a coach journey, a journey which took seven days, that is all…’

  ‘But packed with incident.’

  She smiled wryly, though she felt more like crying. Somehow or other she had to harden her heart, at least until she found out more about Arabella. If what Margaret said was true, then there was no future for her with Captain Duncan Blair. That is just it. If there had not been so many misadventures, if we had never met Tom and Dorothy, if we had never witnessed their wedding, if we had not been stuck in the snow, you would not have given me a second thought…’

  ‘Fustian!’

  ‘You think you have compromised me, that it was acceptable to carry Miss Sadler to her bed, to take her unawares and kiss her, but not Miss Sanghurst, the daughter of your father’s friend. Now you feel you must do the honourable…’

  ‘Bunkum! Did you not hear a word I said to you when we were alone together in the snow?’

  She had heard only a distant, soothing voice, the words had been lost on her, but she could hardly ask him to repeat them now. ‘Said in extremis, Captain. I am persuaded you have already regretted your rash proposal. If you are worried that I
will hold you to your offer, please be easy. I understand, truly I do.’

  ‘It’s more than I do.’

  She could not explain, not without betraying Margaret’s confidence. ‘Captain, I am still very tired…’

  He released her hand and rose at once. ‘I beg pardon. I had not meant to tire you.’ His words were clipped. ‘I will leave you to rest.’ With that he bowed and left the room, closing the door with a firm click.

  She was as prickly as a hedgehog, he could tell it from the stiff way she smiled at him and the way she held her chin, as if holding her head up was all that mattered. He cursed her father for his unfeeling selfishness, for leaving her so vulnerable. Her pride was all she had to fight with and he wished with all his heart she would realise that she did not need to fight him, that he understood because he loved her. But he also respected her and because of that, he would try to be patient.

  The following day Flora came to help Helen to dress ready to go downstairs. All her clothes were mourning black and there was little to choose between them, but she picked out a warm merino wool, relieving the drabness of the colour with a white shawl of fine silk. Looking in the mirror, she realised she had lost weight and her eyes were overbright in a very pale face. ‘You could do with a little carmine on your cheeks, miss,’ the maid said, standing behind her, hairbrush in hand. ‘And if you wear your hair down, with little curls about your face, so, it will make it look fuller.’ She teased out a curl or two as she spoke.

  Helen smiled at the girl in the glass. ‘It will make me look like a schoolgirl.’

  ‘And where’s the harm in that? They will be falling over themselves to take care of you.’

  Her toilette complete, Helen stood up and slipped her feet into black satin slippers. ‘What now?’

  ‘I’m to take you to the library, miss. His lordship is waiting for you.’

  Helen took a deep breath and followed the girl down a beautiful carved oak staircase, lined on one side with portraits, to a vestibule whose vaulted ceiling reached the whole height of the building. Several doors opened from it, no doubt leading to the rest of the house. The maid conducted her to one, knocked and ushered her in.