Lady Alex's Gamble (2 page)
This was more than Alexander had hoped. He grasped his twin's hand. "You're a Trojan, Alex! Knew you would stand by me. I shan't ever do it again. I promise." And she had believed him, fool that she was, Alexandra thought bitterly to herself as she applied another cool compress to his burning forehead. She should have locked him out, refused to feed him, anything to keep them all from the fix they were in now—and there was no doubt about it, they were in dire straits.
Before he had lapsed into unconsciousness, her twin had blurted it all out to her. Things could not have been worse. She should have guessed that disaster had struck when Alexander did not put in an appearance for breakfast two mornings in a row. The Earl of Halewood, no matter how far gone he had been the previous night, no matter at what hour of the morning he tumbled into bed, was never one to miss his rasher of eggs and a hearty slice of beef. But he had not shown himself, nor was his horse in the stables. However, the 12
Lady Alex's Gamble
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weather was so bad—an unusually violent storm had swept across the marshes, flattening everything in its path—that they all conjectured he had been forced to put up at whatever house he had gone to gamble away more of his birthright. It was not until young Andrew, hoping for enough of a change in the weather to ride his pony, had looked out the window at midmorning on the second day and seen his older brother, his head fallen forward on his horse's neck, riding slowly up the long gravel drive, that they realized something was amiss.
"It's Alexander!" Andrew had shouted to no one in particular. "And he looks ever so odd." The boy had gone flying down the steps, closely pursued by his adoring shadow, the seven-year-old Abigail. His shout had reached the morning room, where Alexandra and Althea had repaired to go over the accounts, it being the most comfortable room in the house and possessing one of the few chimneys that did not smoke. They had followed at a more sedate pace along with Mrs. Throckmorton, the housekeeper. Ned Coachman, hearing the restless stamping of the horses in the stables, had appeared around the corner of the house just in time to help his sodden master off his horse.
Alexander's clothes were soaked through and his hair plastered to his head. "Lost my way," he managed to mutter through chattering teeth as Ned supported him up the flagstone steps. He was already coughing by the time Alexandra and Mrs. Throckmorton had gotten him to bed. His breathing was so labored, his face so flushed, that his twin had sent for the doctor immediately.
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Lady Alex's Gamble
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Trevor Padgett had shaken his head after he had examined his patient. Too much drink, too many long nights at the card table with very little attention paid to exercise or anything else, had made a physical wreck of what had once been a fine young man. He shook his head as he felt for the patient's pulse. "How long were you out like this?" he demanded, exasperation masking the concern in his voice.
"I don't know. Hours, I suppose." The earl gasped.
"Blasted difficult to see. Lost my way, you know. Wandered around for an age trying to find it."
"Well, when did you start for home?" asked the doctor, patiently rephrasing the question.
The sick man broke into a fit of coughing and his sister handed him some water. He drank greedily before replying. "I have no id ... yes, the clock had just struck midnight and I decided I had better go, been gone one day already, you know."
"Midnight! Whatever possessed you? And in such weather!" The doctor shook his head in stunned disbelief.
"I was only at Cranbourne's," Alexander said in defense of himself. "How was I to know I would lose my way? Blasted horse ought to know it well enough by now." The doctor had looked grave as he motioned Alexandra to follow him. Closing the door gently behind them, he led her down the hall out of all possible earshot. "I should keep a close eye on him. He was exposed to the elements for what was apparently some time. That and the unhealthy life he has led are likely to bring about a dangerous inflammation of the lungs. Keep him warm, but try to keep the fever down. I shall 14
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visit as often as I can." He paused and then smiled kindly. "I do not wish to add to your worries, but I would be remiss in my duties if I were not to warn you that there is cause for concern."
Doctor Padgett had left her reluctantly, wishing he had been able to give a better verdict, for he liked and admired Alexandra and hated to add to the burdens she already bore. That useless brother of hers would continue to cause her anxiety and heartache and there was very little he could do about it.
Trevor Padgett had known Lady Alexandra de Montmorency for years, from the day she had broken her arm attempting to rescue her twin from a scrape he had gotten them into. She'd only been five at the time, but the doctor had known then how it would be with Alexandra, possessed of the intelligence and self-control so noticeably lacking in her brother, eternally saving him from his own recklessness and stupidity.
Back in Alexander's room, Alexandra was thinking much the same thing as her twin, starting up from his restless sleep, grasped her hand in his. He was burning up with fever and the eyes staring up at her were glassy but alert. "Must warn you, Alex, Cranbourne will be calling. Wants you to be his wife."
"What?" His sister was too stunned for the moment to say anything else. She barely knew of Sir Ralph, nor would she ever have acknowledged the slightest acquaintance with a man reputedly blackballed from all the clubs in London and 15
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certainly not welcome in any respectable household in Norfolk.
"Come now, Alex," the sick man gasped, "he's not old or decrepit, has a handsome property, and possesses a comfortable fortune...."
"Won in some nefarious way," his sister snapped. "Really, Alexander, you are all about in the head. I would not have anything to do with Sir Ralph Cranbourne if he were the last man on earth."
"Have to." Her twin was overcome with a fit of coughing.
"It is either that or I pay him a hundred thousand pounds and I haven't got a hundred thousand pounds. I tell you, I am ruined if you don't."
"You
are ruined!" Alexandra leapt from the chair to pace furiously around the room, her patience finally at an end.
"You
are ruined. What about us? At least you have enjoyed yourself while you have played mice feet with the future of this family."
"Come now, Alex. You are not getting any younger. No one has asked for your hand, nor are they likely to the way things are going. You're too strong-minded. A man doesn't like a woman to rule him. I know that well enough." Sick as he was, Alexander could not keep himself from getting in a dig at his capable sister, who had always managed to make him feel just the tiniest bit inferior. She rarely said anything, but often he looked into those clear green eyes, so like his own, and felt himself lacking. And then there was the staff, as well as his own brothers and sisters, who always consulted his sister, never him. Alexander de Montmorency might be the Earl of 16
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Halewood to the rest of the world, but at home it was Lady Alexandra who commanded the respect. "You'll wind up on the shelf," he warned, coughing more violently than ever.
"Which is a great deal safer, more pleasant, and more respectable than being the wife of Sir Ralph Cranbourne," his sister retorted. "Now go to sleep, Alexander, and let me think."
And she had thought. Alexandra had been racking her brains all night as she sat by the invalid's bedside, but to no avail. She had no one to turn to, nothing she could sell quickly that would raise that sort of sum. When Mrs. Throckmorton herself had brought her her breakfast that morning, she was no closer to any solution than she had been the previous evening.
The wind continued to howl furiously and Alexandra tried to keep her spirits from plummeting into complete despair. She
had to
think of something, not only for herself, but for all the others too—the staff, the rest of the family, all the tenants who depended on Halewood for a livelihood. At last she was forced to the conclusion that the only way to come up with the money her brother owed was to go about recovering it the same way he had lost it. She would have to gamble.
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Lady Alex's Gamble
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"Gamble? Alexandra, you must be all about in the head," Lady Althea de Montmorency exclaimed as her older sister broached the plan to her sometime later that morning.
"Alexander has spent his entire existence gambling and lost a fortune, yet you, who have never gambled in your life, are planning to win it back the same way? You are my dearest sister and you have done your best to take care of us since Papa died, but it has gotten to you at last, Alex. Your wits have truly gone begging. Althea's large, dark eyes were filled with concern and her ordinarily sunny countenance looked troubled.
Though their faces wore similar expressions of worry, the sisters could not have been less alike in other respects. Where Alexandra was tall and slender, Althea was short, pleasingly plump, and despite being six years younger than her sister, appeared the more matronly of the two. Her features were soft and rounded, her pink-and-white complexion enhanced by the velvety brown of her eyes. Even their demeanors differed. While Althea was gracefully draped against her chair, Alex was perched on hers. Alexandra glanced over at her sister and smiled. "You should have been the eldest. Ally, you know. You are all reason and calmness the way Mama was, while Alexander and I"—she shrugged—"we are more like Papa. It is only to be hoped that I resemble Papa more closely that poor Alexander does. After all, if it were not for Papa's talent at the gaming 18
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tables, we would not have Halewood, which, as you recall, he won at macao."
"However," Althea hastened to point out, "if he had not had such a rackety youth in the first place his family would not have disinherited him and he would not have been forced to seek his fortune at the gaming tables."
"There, you see, you should have been the eldest. You always see things in such a practical way. I must say it would please me no end if I could be so pragmatic now, but we are at the
point non plus
and drastic measures are necessary."
"But, Alex," her sister began.
"I know, I have not frequented every gaming table in Norfolk or every race meeting and mill in three counties as Alexander has done these last years, but Papa
did
tell me I was an angel with cards, and surely no one could have been a better judge than he."
Althea shook her head. Once her sister had made up her mind there was no dissuading her. Undoubtedly Alex would manage to pull it off and save them all, for no one was more resolute, more fearless, or more persistent than she, but indeed, at the moment the odds seemed insurmountable, even for Alex. Althea still remembered the day when her sister had appeared, riding pale but composed up the drive, her right arm dangling limply at her side. In her usual way she had made a bet with Alexander, convinced the stable lad to give her her father's hunter, and had gone galloping off madly on her own. She had broken her arm after urging the horse over an impossibly high fence. Somehow she had 19
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remounted and ridden the five miles home again, keeping her mount in check with her left hand.
Resigning herself to the inevitable now, Althea inquired,
"But how are you to do this? Playing with Papa every evening is one thing, but you cannot hope to recover a fortune playing penny a point with Lady Challerton and the other ladies who retire to the card rooms at the assemblies, especially as you do not even attend the assemblies." Althea sighed inwardly. It seemed so unfair that Alex, who was old enough to attend these delightful gatherings, condemned them as useless and boring in the extreme while she herself, who would have given anything just to see the lovely gowns, was still too young to go. Not that it would matter what age she was since Alexandra loathed them too much to take her, Alexander was too selfish to escort anybody anywhere, and their brother, Anthony, was off in London with his regiment.
"Of course I shan't play with those tabbies," Alex snorted.
"To win a sum such as Alexander whistled down the wind I must go where the play is deep. There is only one place where the stakes are high enough for that.... I must go to White's," she declared.
"White's!" Althea gasped. "But, Alex, how?" "Anthony, of course," Alex responded coolly. "Anthony?" Althea stared blankly at her sister. "I shall ask Anthony to introduce me to someone who can vouch for me," Alex explained reasonably.
"But, but..." Althea stammered, "but you are a woman."
"I
know
that. I have suffered from that affliction for twenty-three years. Believe me, I am well aware of it, but I shall soon remedy that. As Doctor Padgett does not hold out 20
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much hope for Alexander's very immediate recovery, I have some time."
"Time? Time for what?" Althea was even more bewildered.
"Time to become Alexander de Montmorency, Earl of Halewood, of course. I shall put it about here that Alexander has gone to London and that I have left for a long overdue visit to Great Aunt Belinda in Brighton. Then I shall become Alexander. In the meantime, Bessie will nurse him in Mrs. Bates's cottage. I have not found new tenants for it since she died, and now I am rather glad I haven't, for it is quite remote and none of the villagers ever goes there. Of course I shall have to confide in some of the staff, but only Mrs. Throckmorton, Bessie, and Ned need know."
"Alex, do you really think you can fool people into believing you are Alexander?"
