Gamble With Hearts (8 page)

Unfortunately, Charlotte herself was quite unaware of the interest she was arousing. Among the first to arrive had been Viscount Carlington, and as she watched him mount the stairs, so handsome and so very dear, she had realised that to cut him out of her life was as impossible as to cut off her right arm. She could not do it, yet she had bound herself with a promise she could never break. It all seemed dreary and hopeless. Mindful of her aunt's words she continued to smile, to murmur polite gratification at compliments she received, to impress the right people, but all she really wanted to do was to retire to her bed chamber and cry her poor confused heart out.

Charlotte
's was not the only heavy heart at the party that night. Mr Edridge had prepared himself for the ball in high spirits. He intended to dance as many sets as she would allow him with Miss Milverly, and whenever she had to dance with another he would lean against the wall, scowling romantically and watching every move she made. If this did not adequately express his devotion he had every hope of reciting to her a sonnet he had composed in her honour while reclining in a hot bath that very afternoon. Alas, poor Mr Edridge could not come anywhere near his lady, so surrounded was she by enterprising young bucks. When he was able to speak to her she smiled upon him enchantingly, but quite failed to return the pressure of his hand.

Dejected and disappointed by his beloved's capricious behaviour, he made his way to a small salon where drinks were being served, and asked the waiter to bring him a glass of champagne cup. He then threw himself down upon a sofa and indulged in his misery. How long this would have gone on is unknown because, after about five minutes, he was joined by an equally despondent Carlington, also in search of refreshment.

 
‘Oh, hello, Carlington. You here?’

‘Yes, I'm here. Devilish, ain't it?’

‘Devilish,’ agreed Mr Edridge, gloomily.

They both sat in meditative silence until the soothing beverage appeared. The healing properties of champagne are well known, and after only four or five glasses each the two young men were talking animatedly.

‘Women!’ began Carlington by way of introducing his subject. ‘Women are the very devil’.

‘True, damned true,’ nodded Mr Edridge, wisely.

‘Women are at the root of all men's troubles. Take me! Is this any life for a man? Is it? Do you know where I should be? I should be at home at Beauchamps, putting my estates in order, not chasing round after a petticoat!’

‘Do you have an estate?’ demanded Edridge, peering at his interlocutor, owlishly.

The Viscount appeared exasperated by this simple question. ‘Of course I do, you silly chucklehead. What's the point of being a dashed Viscount if you ain't got an estate. You'd look pretty silly, wouldn't you?’

''I'd like to have an estate,’ announced Mr Edridge. ‘Then I wouldn't have to go up to
Oxford
. I could do all the things I wanted, like introducing new crops and getting in a threshing machine; and the drill. Do you have the drill?’

Sober suddenly, the Viscount looked up, his interest caught. ‘No, not yet, but I hope to introduce it when I get control of my land. It's in damned bad heart at the moment!''

What is it?’ asked Mr Edridge sympathetically. ‘Bad luck or bad management?’

‘Both, from what I can make out. Beauchamps has been in the hands of an uncle of mine since my father died, and a dashed bad job he's made of it! If you could see some of the cottages my tenants are living in it would make you sick. Time and again I've begged him to do something for them but he just smirks and tells me to wait a few years until I know what I'm talking about. Well, I do know! I've been studying some of Mr Coke's methods and I know they would work at Beauchamps, but— Oh, damn it! It all seems pretty hopeless.’

Both young men sighed heavily and relapsed into their former gloom. Suddenly, the curtain screening them from the ballroom was pulled aside to disclose the mischievous face of Amelia Milverly.

‘Why, there you are, Mr Edridge. Have you forgotten that this is our dance?’

‘Our—our dance, Miss Milverly?’

‘Of course!’

‘But I thought—?’

‘If you do not wish to dance with me, sir, I am sorry that I bothered you,’ she pouted naughtily.

‘I do! Of course I do, Amelia, I mean Miss Milverly!’ exclaimed Mr Edridge, and left the room precipitately.

Carlington had approached Miss Wrexham earlier in the evening and had secured two dances with her. The first, a quadrille, had been a disaster, as
Charlotte
was far too well bred to discuss intimate affairs on the dance floor, and was annoyed with Charles for making them conspicuous. The second, supper dance, was to begin shortly. Charles sauntered out of the salon into the ballroom in excellent time to see Charlotte circling gracefully in the arms of some unknown but palpably enamoured gentleman, smiling up at him the while. The Viscount gritted his teeth and when the time came for him to claim Miss Wrexham, he was in no humour for dancing.

‘I want to talk to you!’ he hissed as soon as he had detached her from her mama.

‘Not now!’ she whispered back, convinced that every eye was upon them.

‘Yes, now!’ he insisted, and ruthlessly forced her out of the ballroom and across the entrance hall, past dozing footmen, into the library.

‘Now we can talk quietly,’ he said with satisfaction.

Charlotte
, however, was furious. ‘How dare you! What do you want to do, make us both laughing stocks?’ she demanded, seating herself with a little flounce upon a leather armchair.

‘No one noticed a thing. Besides, what if they did? Does it matter?’

‘Yes, it does! I have my reputation to think of!’

‘You know, you sound so prim and proper that I can't believe you are the same girl I saw falling off her seat with laughter the other day. What's come over you?’

‘Nothing has come over me! I simply do not appreciate being dragged— What are you doing?’

‘Nothing,
Charlotte
, go on!’ replied the Viscount, advancing.

‘Keep away from me or I'll—’

‘What will you do?’ he asked, his hands touching her shoulders and gently caressing her neck.

‘Oh, Charles,’ she breathed, and lifted her face to be kissed. Her arms slid around his neck as he crushed her to him, his mouth bruising hers.
Charlotte
had never been kissed before like this. She knew that a lady should never permit it, but still she felt that if he were to stop she would die. He was kissing her neck and bare shoulders now, murmuring her name as he pressed her close to him. Then, quite suddenly, he pulled away from her. He strode over to the fireplace and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Charlotte
dropped into her chair and buried her head in her hands.

‘Charlotte, my darling, I'm sorry. I should never have— I've frightened you, haven't I? But, my sweet, I'm so in love with you that I don't know what I'm doing. I promise not to do it again until we are married.’

‘Frightened? Charles, how could I ever be afraid of you! But you see, we are not going to be married. That is what is so hopeless. We cannot ever be together, my darling, and I love you so very much. What are we to do?’

‘You mean, you won't marry me? But Charlotte, why not? You are not going to tell me that Ruthin was right!’

‘Ruthin!’ exclaimed
Charlotte
. ‘What has he to do with us?’

‘Nothing. He warned me, however, that you were bent on marrying a fortune. I didn't believe him.
Charlotte
, you couldn't!’

‘Charles, you do not understand. I promised Mama that she should be comfortable. She had such a wretched time after Papa died, I could see how unhappy and worried she was. This seemed the only solution. I never dreamed that I would fall in love like this. I've never have before, and I used to believe that I never would. That is why I suggested the scheme. You see we sold everything we possessed, even Mama's annuity, just so that I could have one season. If I fail Mama will have nothing!’

‘Damn it,
Charlotte
, I'm not a dashed pauper. I can support a wife and any number of in-laws too. My own mother lives off the estate comfortably enough!’

Charlotte
gazed at him in amazement. ‘But Aunt Letty said that you had nothing but a pile of debts. She said you could not possibly support us both!’

The Viscount snorted ‘What she meant is that you could set your sights a lot higher than me. Perhaps you could, but if you love me and we can be comfortable together, why should you?’

‘Why indeed? Oh, I could kill Aunt Letty! I have been so unhappy these last few days and it is all her fault. Mama would have given us her blessing days ago but for her.’

‘Then you will marry me, sweetheart?’ demanded Carlington, anxiously.

Smiling, she held out her arms to him. ‘Of course I will, Charles. I do not know how I could ever have doubted it!’

Miss Wrexham and Carlington were agreed that it would be unkind as well as unnecessary to announce their engagement that night. Charlotte could picture only too well her Aunt's shocked reaction, and she had no desire to bring down that wrath upon her head any sooner than was absolutely necessary. They were, therefore, to keep their secret until
Charlotte
's total lack of interest in her other suitors should have convinced her relative that the Viscount's suit should be reconsidered.

They parted, therefore, in the library and, while Miss Wrexham returned dreamily to the ballroom, the Viscount left the house. He was feeling far too elated, however, to return home. He decided instead to look in at Watier's. He had, in the first flood of happiness, promised
Charlotte
that he would eschew heavy gambling, but it would do no harm, he reasoned, merely to watch the play and exchange a few words with his intimates.

He entered the card room to find most of his cronies already assembled. One or two had also been present at Lady Northwood's Ball but, like most young bloods, they voted such affairs dull work and had left as soon as courtesy permitted. Captain Osborne and Fritz were already deep in play at the Faro table and, judging by the expression on Lord Fitzroy's amiable countenance, he, at least, was having a thin time of it.

‘I say Charles, come over here and b-bring me some g-good luck won't you? The d-dashed cards have b-been running against me all night!’

Good-naturedly, the Viscount strolled over to take up his position behind Fitz's chair, and as the night was still young, he was quite soon persuaded to take a hand himself. He had already consumed a considerable amount of champagne that night which, combined with a bumper or two of hot punch, had produced a pleasantly lightheaded effect. Now, as it was clearly impossible to play Faro with a dry throat, he ordered a bottle of Watier's excellent brandy and settled down to make a night of it. Although he seldom appeared the worse for drink, there was a reckless look in his merry blue eyes as he tossed rouleau after rouleau onto the green baize of the table.

By three that morning most of the players had cashed in their winnings and were beginning to think about taking their leave. The Viscount, however, showed no disposition to do so and was eagerly enjoining Captain Osborne to stay for a friendly game of piquet, when a slight disturbance at the door caught his attention. The waiters appeared to be trying to prevent a gentleman from entering the club, but as he was a large and powerful man they were having very little success.

‘Damn you, let me be! How dare you try to turn me out, you damn fools! Don't you know who I am?’

‘Yes, Farnley. They know,’ Carlington broke in, strolling over to the doorway and surveying the scene rather grimly. ‘They have orders from Ruthin not to admit you, however!’ Farnley sneered unpleasantly, ‘Still counting on the noble Marquis to fight your battles for you, eh! When are you going to face me yourself, my Lord Viscount? Or don't you dare?’

‘Call me a coward to my face, would you!’ shouted the Viscount furiously. ‘I'll meet you, Farnley, where and when you will!’

‘This morning, then, my Lord Carlington. Shall we say Islington Green at six?

‘Certainly,’ responded the Viscount curtly. ‘Who will you have, sir?’

Farnley glanced around the room, well aware that most of the assembled men believed, with the Viscount, that he had cheated. To his surprise, however, one man did step forward, saying bluffly: ‘I don't know the rights and wrongs of this affair, but without seconds they can't meet, so I don't mind acting for this gentleman. My name is Dugdale, sir, Major Dugdale, at your service.’

Farnley bowed. ‘Thank you, Major, I accept your offer. Name your own friends, Carlington!’

‘Ricky, Fitz!’ called the Viscount over his shoulder.

Both men stepped forward at once, but they looked very grave.

‘Look here, Charles. I know you want to fight the fellow and I d-don't blame you, b-but you've b-been up half the night. Anyone can see Farnley is sober as a d-dashed judge. D-don't d-do it Charles. Not now!’