The Wicked Wager (8 page)

Emma mouthed ‘Poo Poo’ to Catherine, who
promptly disappeared under the table pretending to retrieve a fallen fork. Her
shoulders shook alarmingly, and Emma had a hard time not joining her.

The duke could not but help peek at the
aforementioned dress. That had been the lady’s intent all along. He quickly
looked away and clearing his throat said,

“It is a … flattering colour, and you are
not so old yet, Mrs Barker.”

“I feel miles better now that you have
stated you approve. I was terribly worried about being inappropriate in your
household, but now I may wear such colours without any qualms,” she tittered.

Emma dug her nails in; it was not the
colour that was inappropriate, as the lady well knew, but the cut of the dress.

“I must warn you, Mrs Barker,” commented
the duchess. The words had the effect of stopping all spoons in midair.

“Warn me?” asked Mrs Barker nervously.

“Why, yes, my dear. I have already told the
rest present here, and because you are living with us as a guest, I have a duty
to inform you of the danger.”

Emma relaxed back in her seat and continued
eating.

“What sort of danger?” Mrs Barker asked
irritably. She did not like the fright that she had just been given. The stupid
duchess
was back to her superstitious ways,
blind to everything happening around her.

“This house has passed into a phase where
spirits walk. The walls thrum with danger, and the departed wish us to be
forewarned. A catastrophe is to occur soon, and I am afraid you are now in the
midst of it. You can depart if you wish, we will not hold it against you.”

Emma wanted to laugh. The duchess was
obviously trying to send Mrs Barker packing the only way she could. She noticed
Catherine controlling her smile as well.

“Thank you for your concern, Your Grace,
but as good friends of the family, it would hardly do for us to leave you in
the midst of danger. I think you would need all the help you can get, so we
shall stay,” said Mr Barker to everyone’s surprise.

He was normally a silent man who was more
interested in his port than making conversation. So the strength in his voice
insisting that they stay on had the effect of making everyone thoughtful. Even
Mrs Barker looked disconcerted.

“You are welcome to stay as long as you
like, no matter the circumstances,” the duke said, shooting his wife a quelling
look.

“Thank you, you always make us feel most
welcome
,”
Mrs Barker replied, stressing the last word unnecessarily.

This time the innuendo in her tone was
clear to all, except perhaps the duchess, who was busy having a one sided
conversation with an invisible, dead ancestor.

“This duck is lovely. I must get the recipe
for the sauce,” said Lady Babbage into the uncomfortable silence.

No one pointed out that since Lady Babbage
lived with the duke and intended to live with him until her dying day, she
truly did not need to know the recipe. Nor did anyone point out that the duck
was, in fact, chicken.

Everyone spoke at once, grasping the topic
of food and spent the next few minutes debating the flavour of lamb versus
beef, and who preferred what. They had assumed that Mrs Barker would give up
after the awkward moment, but they failed to remember exactly how dim she truly
was.

She waved a fork with a tomato speared at
the end as she spoke, her high voice drowning out everyone else’s.

“The food is delicious,” she said, licking
her lips, “but then you always have the best, Your Grace. I have a mind to stay
on forever,” she giggled.

The effect was ruined as the tomato dislodged
and dropped into the valley of her remarkable bosom. Unfortunately, she did not
realise that and wondered what made Emma giggle in merriment.
Catherine was not far behind in joining her. The
returning servers gave them a moment of respite to calm down.

The meal was finished in a similar vein,
leaving the girls angry yet amused. The men stayed on to pass the port, and the
ladies retired to the saloon.

Catherine went to pour the tea, and Emma
followed her. She could not wait until everyone retired for bed to say what she
wanted.

“I have never noticed Mrs Barker so
desperate. Is it just me or was she outrageously flirting with the duke?”

“That is what I noticed this afternoon. I
am sure she flirted with him on previous occasions, but this time she is taking
it too far. It is embarrassing, and I am surprised Mr Barker does not say
anything or, for that matter, the duke,” said Catherine worriedly.

“You must be funning, Cat.” She searched
her cousin’s face, and when no dimple winked she continued, “The duke would
never take her seriously. She made a fool of herself, and you should simply see
her as an amusing diversion.”

“The duke is a man, Em, and however much we
may dance around the topic, my stepmother is not all there.”

“The duke is still handsome and extremely
powerful. The last person he would turn to would be Mrs Barker. He may want
some other diversion, a mistress perhaps if he does not have one already. But
he will never fall for a woman like her.”

“I hope you are right. I suppose I never
bothered to think of the effect my stepmother’s madness had on my father. I do
hope he has someone to love him.”

“He has you, and as for female
companionship, I don’t think it’s our place to be concerned. He can take care
of himself.”

“I was just taken by surprise, I think. I
have never witnessed any woman throwing herself at my father before. He
normally shields me from such things.”

“Maybe he feels that you are old enough to
handle it now, or that you have grown up enough to notice …” she abruptly
stopped, her eyes darting towards the door. She urgently squeezed Catherine’s
arm and muttered, “the men are entering the room. You should go to your father,
and stick by him for the rest of the evening. Hurry, Cat, he needs to be
rescued.”

Catherine quickly turned and beat the
approaching Mrs Barker by a second. She then spent the night keeping the
thankful duke occupied, while Mrs Barker sulked in annoyance.

***

Emma sent her maid off to bed and sat down
to think. She was once again worried about the duke’s suspicions regarding the
gardener. The only time she could sneak into his library and go through the
papers was when the entire house was abed. She had undressed so that her maid
would not be suspicious.

Now she strode to her closet and pulled out
her robe. She was bending over to put on her slippers when a hand was clasped
around her mouth and another on her shoulders.

She was pulled upright, and she
instinctively bent her knee and let her foot fly back and ram itself between
the legs of the intruder. It was a beautiful move taught to her by her
brothers.

A low moan of pain came from behind her as
the hands fell away to release her. She smiled satisfactorily as she turned to
look upon the unfortunate creature who had dared to enter her bedchamber.

“Richard!”

“Hello darling, I thought it was time I got
my kiss. But I think you have permanently damaged the parts that would have one
day given you children,” he groaned.

“I am so sorry! Are you alright? How did
you get in? You can’t be here, what if someone finds out!”

“I got in through the door. However
romantic I may want to be, I didn’t want to risk climbing the ivy and breaking
my neck. Your room is very high up … I did not realise that walking in through
the door would be just as dangerous.” He paused to breathe deeply. Clenching
his teeth in pain he continued, “I will be fine … at least I hope I will be in
a few days. As for being found out, the entire household is asleep. After the
risk I have already taken, this seemed relatively tame.”

“You don’t have your beard on, and your
teeth are white again.”

“I did not want to give you an excuse to
evade my kiss this time.”

Emma blushed. It was different kissing the
earl in the light of the day or even in dark gardens, but his being in her room
was disturbing. It somehow felt more intimate, and the fact that no one would
intrude on them for a number of hours had her feeling shy and tense.

“How … how did you know this was my room?”

The earl smiled, guessing the reason for
Emma’s discomfort. His kiss would have to wait, and recalling the state he was
in, he did not mind delaying it too much.

“It was easy enough. All I had to do was
follow your maid Bessie. The long hallways and various nooks and corners hid me
well enough. She hardly looked left or right, having no reason to believe that
someone might be following her.”

“I was just getting ready to search the
duke’s study.”

“I will be a gentleman and accompany you. I
cannot have my beautiful fiancée roaming around alone in this ghostly mansion.
It will also give me a chance to take a look at the duke’s place of work. You
can tell a lot about a man from his personal space.”

She nodded and turned away. She busied
herself looking for a candle to take along.

The ensuing silence reminded her again of
the earl’s presence in her room. She glanced at the bed and reddened.

She wanted to speak to break the mounting
tension but was afraid her voice would tremble and betray her.

The earl smiled watching her flustered
demeanour. He waited until she had lit the candle and moved towards the exit
before grabbing her arm and halting her.

Emma’s fingers tightened around the candle.
She peeked at his face and his expression set her heart racing.

He stared at her exquisite face glowing in
the fire light. He drank in her features, his fingers itching to take the pins
out of her hair.

“If I don’t kiss you now … it would be
tragic,” he said huskily.

“Angels would weep,” she replied, nodding
fervently.

He smiled briefly before stooping down and
giving her a hard, quick kiss. He let her go immediately and said,

“For luck. After all, we venture into the
lion’s den tonight.”

“Don’t be absurd,” replied Emma, her heart
still thundering in her chest.

She was secretly relieved to have the earl
with her. She had not been looking forward to sneaking into the duke’s study,
but with him by her side it felt more like an adventure than an odious task.
She was suddenly excited and peeked out of her room with more enthusiasm.

Seeing that the coast was clear she gestured
to the earl to follow.

They tiptoed their way towards the stairs,
cupping the candle to dim the glow. Emma knew which bits of wood creaked and
silently indicated the same to him.

They reached the bottom step and turned
into a hallway. She led the way to the duke’s study, and after making sure that
no light showed below the crack in the door, they cautiously entered the room.

She went straight towards a tray of letters
left at the edge of a large mahogany desk. Those were the ones that the duke
would have written today. Pickering would post them in the morning.

She carefully set the candle on the table,
and taking out a paper knife she got to work. She heated the steel blade and
slipped it below the seal of the first letter.

The pile of letters was not large, and it
would take them at most an hour to finish the task. They scanned and resealed
the letters as quickly as they could.

They finally found one addressed to a man
named Nutters, who it seemed was a private investigator in London. It mentioned
the gardener, although briefly. Most of the letter was comprised of requesting
information about an investigation the duke had already engaged the man for.
The duke never said clearly what the matter was. It was all very vague, but his
words in the end were ominous.

“What does uncle mean by this bit?” Emma
asked, pointing to a section in the letter.

The earl silently read the contents:

‘I need to know if I have to take any
drastic action regarding the issue. The situation is steadily becoming worse,
and it is now hard to sift the truth from lies. I have to protect my family and
would appreciate it if you could speed up your investigations. Hire as many men
as you need. You shall be compensated. I am getting desperate, and all my hopes
now rest on your findings.’

“I have no clue. It sounds as if the duke
is in some sort of trouble. He doesn’t specify anything, so it seems he is
already suspicious of the letter falling into the wrong hands. I wonder who he
suspects would dare to go through his mail. He mentions the gardener only
briefly. He hasn’t even finished that sentence before he starts talking about
this other problem. I think this Nutters chap will write to the duke asking him
to explain more fully about the gardener, and that unfortunately means another
night of searching through his letters,” replied the earl.

“Poor uncle, I wonder what is worrying
him.”