The Gamble Read online

I advanced now into the room and this time I did not wait to be invited to sit before I took the green-velvet-covered armchair that was placed on the far side of Lord Winterdale’s desk.

  He looked at me, his thin, hard face expressionless, his startling blue eyes steady. “What do you wish to see me about, Miss Newbury?” he asked.

  “I don’t think this story you have concocted about my father naming you as my guardian is going to fly, my lord,” I said bluntly. “Lady Winterdale has mentioned her skepticism to me several times, and I have a suspicion that I am going to hear similar comments all Season long. I fear that it might very well affect my chances of catching a husband.”

  “I see,” he said. His hands moved slightly, drawing my attention to the thin-boned, strong, ringless fingers resting on the huge pile of bills. He asked courteously, “And do you have any other suggestions as to how we might account for the fact that I requested my aunt to bring you out?”

  As a matter of fact, I did have another suggestion. “I thought that perhaps we might say that my father had named your uncle to be my guardian, my lord,” I said. “Your uncle appears to have been a perfectly respectable man, and my being named his ward would cause no great surprise. Then, we could say that after your uncle died you felt it incumbent upon yourself to take over your uncle’s responsibility to me.” I looked at him, proud of my invention. “How do you think that sounds?”

  A flash of amusement showed in his eyes. “Damned peculiar,” he said immediately.

  I gave him an affronted stare. I had, of course, heard the word damn many times, but it was not very nice of him to say it to me. Nor did I like his disparagement of my idea.

  He continued as if he had not seen my outraged look at all, “To put it bluntly, Miss Newbury, outside the gambling tables, your father and my uncle did not move in the same social circles. I cannot imagine any circumstances under which my uncle would agree to take on the indigent daughters of a notorious gambler as his wards.”

  I felt myself flush. “Your uncle was scarcely a paragon, Lord Winterdale. He was a card cheat, after all.”

  “Ah, but the ton does not know that, do they?” he returned blandly. “Nor do they know that he was being blackmailed by your father. All they know was that he was, as you say, an extremely respectable man—which, regrettably, your father was not.”

  His words made me angry, but reluctantly I had to admit that they also made sense. “But it sounds so suspect that Papa would have left Anna and me the wards of a twenty-six-year-old man, who, from what I understand, has an extremely disreputable reputation!”

  Those reckless eyebrows lifted, and I said with dignity, “I am sorry, my lord, but that is what I have heard from everyone I have talked to. It just looks . . . suspect.”

  He shrugged, a supple, elegant gesture. “I am afraid there is nothing we can do about it, Miss Newbury. We must just rely on my Aunt Agatha’s undoubted respectability to counteract my own regrettably disreputable reputation. And I can assure you that while Aunt Agatha may be a dragon, her consequence in good society is enormous. She is a personal friend of several of the patronesses of Almack’s, and this ball she is throwing will be attended by all of the most important people in London.”

  I bit my lip. “I don’t like her,” I said. “Haven’t you noticed how horrid she is to Catherine?”

  “No one is forcing you to go through with this come out if you don’t choose to, Miss Newbury,” he said. His eyes drifted pointedly to the pile of bills under his hands. “If I remember correctly, it was you who blackmailed me, not the other way around.”

  “You don’t have to keep reminding me of that,” I said irritably. “I can only assure you that I did what I did out of necessity, not desire.”

  He gave me a cool, ironic look that only increased my ire. The fact that he was in the right and I was in the wrong was utterly infuriating.

  Then he said unexpectedly, “Do you ride?”

  I could feel my whole face light up. I had had to leave my beloved mare Corina down at Weldon Hall, and I missed her more than I could say. “Yes,” I said, “I do.”

  “Would you like to come for a ride in the park with me this afternoon? It is a fine day, and I have a nice sensible gelding in the stable whom you could ride.”

  Nice and sensible also sounded boring, but I was so happy at the thought of being in the saddle again that I didn’t object. “A ride sounds wonderful,” I said sincerely.

  “Very well. I will tell Fiske to have the horses ready for us this afternoon. Be in the stable yard a little after four.”

  For the very first time since we had met, I gave him a real smile. “Thank you, my lord,” I said. “That will be absolutely lovely.”

  He looked back at me, his face inscrutable, and did not reply.

  * * *

  As in many of the homes in Grosvenor Square, the stables were immediately behind the house, separated from the terrace by a small garden. I arrived in the stable yard at exactly four o’clock and stood looking around with curiosity.

  The stable building and the carriage house took up most of the available space and were built of the same brown brick as was the house. I thought with pity of the poor horses confined within the stable with no place to be turned out for exercise or fresh air. It must be hard to be a horse in London.

  As I was standing there, two men leading saddled horses came from within the stable building into the yard. To my surprise, I saw that one of the men was Lord Winterdale. He was smiling, and for the first time since I had met him his unguarded face looked as young as I knew he was.

  The man who was holding the other horse, obviously the Head Groom, saw me and said something to Lord Winterdale. The smile disappeared from his lordship’s face, he nodded, and the groom began to lead a very solid-looking bay gelding in my direction.

  “Good afternoon, Miss,” he said. “I’m Fiske, his lordship’s Head Groom, and this is Cato. He’s a real gentleman, Miss, and wise to London traffic. You won’t have to worry about a thing. He’ll take care of you just fine.”

  I patted Cato’s thick glossy neck. He was in excellent condition, but he was clearly no longer young. “Hello there, fellow,” I said.

  Fiske led Cato to the mounting block and I mounted into the sidesaddle, hooking my knee around the horn and arranging my skirts. I was wearing my old habit, as the new one Lady Winterdale had ordered for me was not yet ready.

  Lord Winterdale walked his horse over to me, and I stared with reverence at the beautiful black thoroughbred mare he was riding. She had a perfect white streak down the middle of her face, but the rest of her was like black silk. Her neck was long and arched, her shoulder ideally sloped, her legs perfectly clean, her hindquarters well muscled. This was a horse who was not only well looked after, she was also obviously well ridden.

  “What a beauty!” I said sincerely.

  “This is Isabelle,” he replied with the friendliest look I had yet gotten from him. “She has already been out this morning, so she should be perfectly content to walk and trot.”

  “I can assure you, my lord, that I am perfectly capable of riding to more than a walk and a trot,” I said testily. “In fact, at home I have even been known to gallop over fences.”

  “Have you indeed?” he murmured, as if he didn’t believe me.

  I ground my teeth and held my tongue.

  He looked at me more closely. “Good God, didn’t Aunt Agatha buy you a riding habit? I’m sure there was a bill for a riding habit in that enormous pile on my desk this morning.”

  I said very calmly, “Lady Winterdale did indeed purchase a new riding habit for me, my lord. It is not yet ready, however.”

  He was looking at the habit I was wearing as if it was a rag.

  “There is nothing wrong with this habit,” I said indignantly. “It is excessively comfortable, I’ll have you know. The new one Lady Winterdale ordered for me will not be half as pleasant to ride in.”

  A flash of genuine humor lit Lord Winterdale
’s thin, dark face. “Haven’t you learned yet, Miss Newbury, that the more comfortable a garment is, the more unfashionable it is likely to be?”

  It was astonishing how intensely attractive his face became when that cold ironic look was replaced by warmth. The change was brief, however, and as we turned to leave the stable yard I was once more confronted by his chill, hard profile.

  It was a short walk from Grosvenor Square to the Oxford Street entrance to Hyde Park and as we entered in under the trees I smiled with delight. The busy streets of London were exciting, certainly, but there was no doubt that I had missed the green beauty of the country.

  “The usual promenade of the ton does not begin until about five,” Lord Winterdale informed me, “so we have a brief respite before the paths become too clogged with traffic to do anything but stop and socialize with the people who are here only to be seen.”

  “Can we go for a canter?” I asked eagerly.

  He gave me a speculative look. Then, “Why not?” he said. “I think you can trust Cato.”

  His disparaging remarks on my horsemanship annoyed me no end, and I didn’t wait for him to say anything more before I asked the bay gelding for a canter. He moved off smoothly and after a minute Lord Winterdale appeared at my side on Isabelle. The two horses cantered along side by side under the greening oak trees, and I rode easily in a forward seat the way I did at home when I rode cross-country with Corina.

  The path along the Hyde Park lake called the Serpentine was fairly empty at this hour, and we were able to increase our speed. Cato surprised me with his enthusiasm, and our horses stretched out side by side in a nice long gallop. When finally we pulled up I laughed and patted Cato’s warm neck and Lord Winterdale looked at me with surprise and approval.

  “You do ride well,” he said.

  It was absurd how delighted I was by his compliment. “Thank you, my lord,” I said. “I would ask you to send for my own mare, but she is used to being outdoors all day long, and I’m afraid the confinement of a London stable would be detrimental to her health.”

  As we rode back the way we had come I found that the park was beginning to grow crowded with fashionable carriages and well-turned-out men and women on horseback. All of the horseflesh was sleek and shiny and all of the carriages sparkled with cleanliness. The men and women were dressed in the height of elegance. The men wore immaculate buff breeches and polished riding boots with black or brown riding coats; the women’s outfits were more varied: from curricle dresses and pelisses, to the kind of full-skirted riding habit that Lady Winterdale had ordered for me.

  It was an incomparably rich-looking scene and, truthfully, I found it slightly intimidating. Was I mad to think that one of these aristocratic, elegant-looking gentleman was going to want to marry me?

  Lord Winterdale and I were walking our horses side by side, each of us thinking our own thoughts, when we were approached by a young woman on a chestnut horse who was accompanied by a gentleman riding a handsome bay.

  “Lord Winterdale,” the woman said in a well-bred, faintly husky voice. “How delightful to see you. You so rarely ride in the park at this hour.”

  “Miss Stanhope,” Winterdale returned. “How do you do. May I present my ward, Miss Georgiana Newbury. Miss Newbury, this is Miss Helen Stanhope and her brother Mr. George Stanhope.”

  Miss Stanhope was extremely beautiful, with satiny black hair and long green eyes. She was wearing a green habit that matched her eyes exactly.

  “How do you do,” I said with a friendly smile. “It is very nice to meet you Miss Stanhope, Mr. Stanhope.”

  Miss Stanhope gave me a look that was noticeably cool. On the other hand, her brother’s smile was extremely amiable. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Newbury,” he said. “It certainly came as a shock to the ton to learn that Winterdale had acquired a ward, but I can see that you will be a very welcome addition to our social circle this Season.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stanhope,” I said. “Will you be coming to our ball tomorrow evening?”

  “We certainly shall,” Mr. Stanhope said. He had black hair like his sister, but his eyes were a less brilliant green. “May I hope that you will save me a dance?”

  One of my terrors about tomorrow’s ball had been that no one would ask me to dance, so now I gave Mr. Stanhope a big, relieved smile. “I should be delighted to save you a dance, Mr. Stanhope,” I said. “Thank you for asking me.”

  “And I hope you will save me a dance, Miss Stanhope,” Lord Winterdale asked politely.

  That lady bestowed upon him a far more restrained smile than the one I had given to her brother. I noticed that she answered rather quickly, however. “Of course, my lord. Shall I pencil you in for the quadrille? Or would you prefer a waltz?”

  “What about both?” Lord Winterdale said.

  Miss Stanhope could not conceal her pleasure with this arrangement and agreed to accommodate him with both those dances.

  “Will there be waltzing at the ball?” I asked in surprise. We did not waltz in the country, and I did not know the steps.

  “There will be no waltzing for you, Miss Newbury,” Miss Stanhope informed me patronizingly. “You may not waltz until one of the patronesses of Almack’s approves you, you know.”

  Almack’s was the most exclusive club in London, known colloquially as the marriage mart, and even a country bumpkin such as I knew the importance of attending the balls at Almack’s.

  I asked apprehensively, “What if they do not approve me?”

  “If they do not approve you, then you will not get a voucher for Almack’s, and if you do not get a voucher for Almack’s, you will not be invited to any of the balls that are given by the best people in London,” Miss Stanhope informed me. “In short, you will be relegated to the second-best society.” She looked down her aristocratic nose at me. “It is very difficult to please the patronesses, I am afraid. They do not like young girls who deviate from behavior that is considered socially correct.”

  I knew immediately that she was referring to my lack of mourning for my father.

  “I believe my aunt has already spoken to Lady Jersey and Countess Lieven about getting vouchers for my cousin and my ward,” Lord Winterdale said coolly. “I do not think that they will have a problem being approved for Almack’s.”

  Miss Stanhope could not quite conceal her annoyance, and I could not quite conceal my relief.

  Evidently Lord Winterdale had been correct when he had said that his aunt’s consequence was enormous.

  Then I wondered when he had spoken to Lady Winterdale to ascertain this information. He was certainly never around the house when I was there.

  “Are you enjoying London, Miss Newbury?” Mr. Stanhope asked me.

  I laughed. “Well, all I have seen of it so far is Bond Street, but I must say that I have liked that very much indeed.”

  Miss Stanhope’s cool green eyes took in my worn gray habit. “You did not purchase that habit on Bond Street, I hope?”

  I was beginning to dislike Miss Stanhope exceedingly, but I tried very hard to hold on to my temper. “My new habit was not yet ready, so I am wearing my old one,” I said.

  Lord Winterdale said, “I can assure you, Miss Stanhope, that once Miss Newbury mounts into the saddle, no one will notice what she is wearing.” He turned to me and smiled. “Miss Newbury has quite the best seat I have ever seen on a woman.”

  For the second time that afternoon, the hardness had melted away from his face, and I saw youth and a hint of sweetness that was inordinately fascinating. Then, as before, it was gone.

  We parted from the Stanhopes a few moment’s later, and though a number of people waved to Lord Winterdale as we trotted back along the path, he did not stop again.

  CHAPTER

  six

  WHEN I AWOKE THE MORNING OF THE BALL, IT WAS raining. This was depressing as I knew that Lady Winterdale would certainly consider the weather a personal affront to her, and when I went down to breakfast I quickly disco
vered that this was indeed so.

  “The streets become so dirty in London when it rains,” she was complaining to a silent Catherine, as I came into the dining room. Lord Winterdale was, as usual, absent from the breakfast table.

  “Fortunately, no one who will be coming to the ball tonight will have planned to come on foot,” Lady Winterdale went on as she made her way through a plate of ham and cold fowl. “We shall have to make certain that our footmen have plenty of umbrellas to escort our guests safely from their carriages into the house. But there can be no doubt that this rain is a decided nuisance. I am seriously displeased.”

  I took a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee from the sideboard. The dining room was gloomy, lit only by a few candles set on the table and the sideboard. The great crystal chandelier, which provided the light for dinner, was never lit during the day.

  I said, “Perhaps the rain will let up by this evening, ma’am.”

  “I certainly hope that it will,” said Lady Winterdale majestically. “Now, Catherine, I want you to make certain that you have your hair washed today. I will send Melton to do it for you. And take a nap this afternoon. It is important for you to be fresh this evening. Gentlemen do not like to see girls who have circles under their eyes. Dinner will commence at six-thirty and the ball at nine and you girls will probably not see your beds much before two o’clock this morning.”

  I thought this sounded very exciting. The few dances I had attended in the country had always ended promptly at eleven.

  Catherine said, “Shouldn’t Georgie have her hair washed, too, Mama?”

  Lady Winterdale gave me an austere look. “I am afraid that I cannot spare my dresser to you as well as to Catherine, Georgiana. If you wish to have your hair washed, perhaps one of the maids will do it for you.”

  “I am sure that Betty will help me, my lady,” I said cheerfully. Betty was one of the chambermaids, and she had been acting as a lady’s maid for me whenever I needed her.

  Lady Winterdale compressed her lips and nodded.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you today, Lady Winterdale?” I asked. I had not realized how tremendous an undertaking a ball the scale of the one Lady Winterdale had planned would be, and all of the work had fallen upon Lady Winterdale’s shoulders. All Catherine and I had been allowed to do so far was to help write out invitations.