The Duke's Wager (5 page)

As to the income, he thought as she burbled excuses as to her daughter’s tardiness (which he knew was because she had been sent to change into something devastating to receive him in), she could find no fault. As to his title, she must find that exemplary, she had only two barons and an earl on the string at the moment. His ancestry, he knew, she would find impeccable. But if she were a wise woman, he felt, she might hesitate about his more recent ancestors, and his own behavior.

His father had been a compulsive gambler, blithely spending both his wife’s portion and that which was left of the dwindling estate that he could legally touch, in any fashion that might provide a gamesman’s interest. After his wife had died (gossips said that it was from boredom), he had gone on solely for the purpose of spending every last penny he could before the grave overtook him. The rumor was, after the Marquis had himself expired, that the estate was shot to pieces and the new Marquis would come into his estate to find it a paper one, all back debts and penury. But within a few years, when St. John had finally decided to grace Society with his presence, there wasn’t a banker in the whole of London who wouldn’t have given him unlimited credit. The mystery of how the young man had repaired his fortunes lingered, but fortune it was, so the issue was dropped. The young Marquis had been welcomed to the ton, with open arms.

Other segments of society had welcomed him thusly, too, and if Lady Wellsley chose to be very exacting, she might have had a qualm about this prospective suitor for her daughter’s hand. It was well known that St. John was in the petticoat line, that his doings among these graceless females exceeded that which could be called normal in a man of his position. There were tales of mistresses, and wild parties and license. But his behavior in the drawing room was impeccable, even if his behavior in other rooms was wide open to speculation.

But when Melissa entered the room in a froth of pink lace and giggles, and St. John swept a bow and kissed her hand, Lady Wellsley subsided gracefully and took a position far from the pair. “So she approves,” St. John thought with amusement, “reputation and all.”

As they chatted about the weather and various doings about the town, St. John viewed the girl before him with speculation. She was very attractive, he thought critically, but no, not beautiful. Her black hair was coaxed into enchanting ringlets, her face was lightly dusted with powder to increase the contrast between white complexion and dark hair. Her nose was, he thought, a trifle too snub, her dark eyes a bit too off-center. No, he thought, no beauty, but well enough for her style. Of her figure, he reserved comment. For now, he thought, she was well enough, but a slight plumpness clung to her outline, and he was almost sure that in a few years she would balloon as alarmingly as her so charming mother had. And since he was looking for a female for the long term as a wife, he was not sure that she could fill the bill. But he was willing to reserve judgment. So long as he continued his interest, he knew, Lord and Lady Wellsley would keep her available.

“La, My Lord,” she lisped, flushing becomingly, “surely there must have been another lady at the affair who caught your eye as well?”

“But none who caught and kept it,” he promised.

He tired quickly of the light banter and, sweeping another bow, he took his leave of the two Wellsley ladies, leaving them to speculate about his attentions as he took himself off into the outer day.

He waved the phaeton away with his groom, and strolled to his club, where he had an excellent lunch. It was when he prepared to leave that he caught sight of James, who was frantically signaling to him from across the room.

“Sinjin,” James began when he had beckoned the Marquis to another room, “there is a slight, very slight problem.”

“What’s this?” Sinjin smiled. “Has marriage impaired your style, James? Did the fair Annabelle find you lacking address, or something else?”

“No, Sinjin, listen,” James whispered in a low voice. “It’s just that…don’t fly up, dear boy, but I haven’t as yet found…suitable quarters for the gal…. she’s still in your digs. I’m sorry,” James went on, looking at St. John’s clouding face, “but there hasn’t been time to transfer her yet. I haven’t had time to arrange for my own place yet. I was out of the country for a spell, you know,” he apologized, sensing his friend’s annoyance, “and, I gave up my other place when I married, y’know, so I wondered if it were possible, if you could.…
”

“James,” said St. John coldly, drawing himself up so that he seemed to dwarf the anxious man at his side, “there are some things that go beyond friendship. I presented you with the female. I will not board her any longer. If you want her, you will have to find your own place for her. I want that house vacated, sir, on the instant, if not sooner. It is,” he said noting the red-faced James, “a matter of honor with me.”

“Oh certainly,” James stammered. “No question about that…I was going to see to it.…
”

“What was it you were going to ask me, old friend?” St. John smiled.

“Ah…nothing,” James protested. “Just about a piece of gossip, but no matter, I haven’t the time now.” And he left the marquis standing there, smiling hugely to himself.

The afternoon went by pleasantly for the Marquis. He dropped in on a few friends, he chatted with a few acquaintances, he made plans for the evening. Late in the afternoon, he felt the need for some amusing conversation and so he payed a call on Lady Amelia Burden. She received him in her sitting room, without chaperone, but he knew that in her case, this somewhat daring action would not be misconstrued.

Lady Amelia had attained an age and position in society that enabled her to set rules unto herself. She was not ancient, by any means, in fact she was a few years younger than St. John himself. The fact that she was distant cousin of his would not, in itself, have allowed her the freedom she took in her relationship with him. But her position did. There had never been a hint of gossip about Lady Amelia, and thought St. John looking at her, doubtless there never would be.

She was tall and angular, but on the whole, her face and figure would not have been displeasing to St. John if it were not, he felt, for her one imperfection. It was unfortunate, he mused, as he invariably did when seeing her, that her fine brown eyes should be the seat of the trouble. For Lady Amelia had, since early childhood, been afflicted with a peculiar physical characteristic where one eye was perfect, brown and deep and intelligent, while the other was wont to wander slightly out to the side when she was weary, so that at those times she seemed to be looking out beyond one’s left shoulder.

Still her fortune and position and calm, quietly amusing outlook on life had netted her several eligible proposals even in her first season. After all, the jest had run among several highly placed gentlemen: with her charm and fortune, she may look as high or as low as she likes, whenever she likes. And in the dark, they reasoned, one would not notice where she looks. But she had refused them all, and had remained unattached throughout eight seasons, and the Social World, although puzzled, had accepted that she would remain so.

St. John had felt an affinity for her from the first, when the eager little ten-year-old had grasped his hand one day and dragged him away from a stultifying family gathering to show him her pony and comment with startling candor on all the assembled relatives. He had kept in touch with her ever since, standing up with her at dances, paying courtesy calls that became less courtesy and more friendship as the years went by. If St. John had ever bothered to think about it, he would have admitted that she was his one real woman friend. For the question of dalliance had never arisen in his mind. He knew that he could never be attracted to a female with any physical defect, and had, over the years, developed an easy, sexless amiability with her.

This afternoon, he complimented her on her rosy appearance, and she rang for tea for her visitor. She sat herself carefully on his left side, so that if her troublesome eye wandered it would not face him, for she had known for a long time how very much her occasional peculiarity discomfitted him. She thought he felt it made her uncomfortable. Although, truth to tell, he was the only man she had ever known who seemed, no matter how he tried to conceal it, disturbed by it. But then, he was the only man whose opinion had ever really mattered to her. Amelia felt that it was only because he watched her so closely that he noticed, and she was pleased by both his attention and the sensitivity of his nature. She admired him the more for his deep concern for her over what was to others, a triviality.

“Sinjin,” she smiled, “I’ve heard how very particular your attentions have become with regard to the new Incomparable. Am I to welcome a new cousin to our family soon then?”

“Only if you decide to cast off your veil, my dear,” St. John grinned, “and take some fortunate fellow’s imprecations to heart, for I have no immediate intention of adding to our illustrious family at the moment.”

“On this side of the blanket, you mean, my dear,” she said, relaxing.

“Very wicked, Amelia,” St. John laughed. “If only everyone knew what a dreadful Miss you are.”

“Why, you know, Sinjin, and still you put up with my shocking behavior.”

“Ah, but that is because I like to be shocked,” he said. “Now tell me some shocking things, you minx, or I shall think I’ve paid a call on some very proper young woman, and that would not suit me at all.”

They sat and chatted for a half hour or more, till the shadows began to color the room and St. John realized, in the dimming light, how quickly the time had passed. Truly, he thought, she could entertain him, always knowing what sly comment would amuse him, always gauging his mood perfectly, always bringing up the bits of gossip, the little anecdotes that would please him. Ah, he had often thought, if only the Lord had gifted her with a perfect face, he might have been able to make a match of it with her. But as it was, there were still times, even after all these years, when a chance glance at her unguarded face when she was weary brought a little chill to his heart. No, it would not do. It was a pity, he often thought, for in all other aspects she would suit. But he could not bear any physical deficiency in his marchioness. That lady, whoever she might eventually be, should have to be as perfect in the eyes of Society as she would be in his own. And that would have to be absolute perfection. So, although Amelia might only have a slight impairment, to him it would always loom as large as any insurmountable obstacle. Still, he thought, I shall always have her as a friend.

As he rose to leave, she placed a hand tentatively upon his sleeve.

“Sinjin,” she said quietly with unaccustomed sobriety, “your sister has asked if I would accompany her down to Fairleigh one of these days. She is having a difficult time with this confinement, and thinks a spell of country air would help her condition. But she implores me to accompany her. She says she will perish from the sulks by herself.”

“I would have thought she would have succumbed to them ages ago,” St. John laughed. “What is this to be…her fifth? She and Gordon seem determined to populate the world by themselves.” He laughed, thinking of his silly, vain little sister now fast becoming the most prolific female in the country. “But why the long face, Amelia? If you think you will be bored to tears, simply refuse her, tell her that there is some ball or other you cannot in any conscience miss.”

“Ah, but I don’t mind. I think I could use a change of scene as well, but she is determined to rusticate at Fairleigh. Her childhood home, she says, comforts her in time of stress.”

“And so?” asked St. John.

“But it is your home, Sinjin, and I should not want you to think that I am imposing upon your hospitality without consulting you first.”

“Amelia,” he laughed, “there is room in that old pile for a dozen of you. Go and rusticate by all means, but be sure to return to me with all your faculties intact, for I do need your wit to ease the way. When shall you be going?” he asked as he went to the door.

“Not for several weeks,” she said. “For she does not suffer so that she wishes to miss the Prince’s gala next week, or the Castelreighs’ party, or the—”

“Dear Mary,” the Marquis laughed. “She must certainly be ill, then, for a healthy female surely would contrive some excuse to avoid those crushes.”

Raising her hand to his lips, the Marquis took leave of his cousin and sauntered off into the deepening twilight. But Lady Amelia did not immediately turn from the window where she watched him stroll off. Rather she stood quietly, and watched quietly, for many moments after his tall figure had gone out of her sight.

St. John walked for a long time, far longer than was usual for him. He seemed to be strolling aimlessly through the darkening streets. He watched the lamplighters set about their tasks, and only when he was sure that all the fashionable carriages had returned home, only when he was convinced that all the members of his elite fraternity were safely home preparing the evening’s pleasures, did he turn his steps and walk with determination. For now he did not want anyone to discover his direction.

He did not mind his contemporaries seeing him entering into low houses of assignation, or houses that contained festivities that loftier members of the Beau Monde would have been aghast at. He would have braved all their stares if they had discovered him attending a cock fight or an exotic exhibition, of the sort that Madame Felice was famed for. But his destination this evening was one that he wished no other man of his station to determine. Quietly and quickly, he melted into the evening’s darkness.

IV

The Marquis was in a rage. He stood on the top step of the house and confronted the little ginger-haired maid. The air of imperturbability which he so carefully cultivated was gone, his fists were clenched, and in a moment, he felt, he would have to shove the girl aside if he must, to gain entry to the house.