The Marquess’ Daring Wager Page 16

  Richard snatched the paper and examined it, and then looked at the two other letters he’d received. “He’s right,” he said. “I did not even think to look at the mark. But why in the world would my mother be in York and pretend she had not yet arrived?”

  “Maybe she didn’t write them letters,” Charlie said. “They ain’t in her hand so how would you know?”

  “For one thing, her letters are always written by a secretary, and for another these sound exactly like her,” Richard said.

  “Anybody what got a letter from your mum these past twenty years might copy the style. Forgery, especially when the hand ain’t going to be examined, is one of the easier careers to take up for a person with some ambition.”

  “Stop bringing up crimes!” Kingston said. “First pickpocketing and now forgery!”

  Richard was less affronted by the mention of forgery than he was dubious of the idea.

  “Also,” Charlie went on, “while you gents were lollygagging about in here this past hour, I made some inquiries. Seems nobody in the hotel heard your mum was coming this way.”

  “We do not lollygag,” Kingston nearly shouted, “you are not to go round inquiring into anything, and do not ever refer to the duchess as ‘mum’ again.”

  “She would not have told the hotel,” Richard said. “Her secretary would have sent a letter securing the reservation and only naming her as an illustrious person.”

  “I only say, the evidence is pilin’ up into a hill what can’t be ignored,” Charlie said. “The lady don’t turn up, the letters ain’t in her handwriting, they been sent from round here, and the hotel don’t expect her.”

  “But, if they are not from my mother, who are they from? Who would wish to lure me to York?” Richard said softly.

  “Lord Blanding?” Kingston posited.

  “I doubt it,” Richard said. “Though he’d be happy without my company, he’s too intent on thinking up a hundred new wagers. He cannot win money from me if I am not there.”

  “What about that fellow what had you locked up? That fellow, Dalton?” Charlie asked.

  “Lord Dalton,” Kingston remonstrated.

  “Possibly,” Richard said. “Though this seems a soft idea for Dalton. If it’d been him, he would have waylaid me into a carriage by now.”

  “It’s a mystery,” Charlie said. “We ought to settle in with a pint of gin and mull the whole thing over.”

  Richard had no intention of settling in with a pint of gin. He was more in favor of settling in with a few bottles of the hotel’s best wine. Regardless of whether he could work out the mystery or not, he determined he would return to Dartsfell Hall on the morrow. That would give him one day there to prepare for that blasted regatta and keep up his work on Lord Blanding. Especially Lord Blanding. That gentleman must be won over before he could even contemplate winning over the man’s daughter.

  He’d leave a message for his mother at the hotel, apologizing for his absence, though he was now beginning to wonder if she would arrive at all.

  *

  The dinner, though late, had been well-conceived and the party was lively. Sybil was placed between Lord Craterborough and Mr. Davies. The lord was keen on the regatta and told her tales of past years, though she did wonder how none of the tales of mad races to the finish ever mentioned her father.

  Mr. Davies had never been to the regatta, nor did he intend to try his hand at it. He fancied himself a man well-read and was happy to set sail in a book, not on actual water. For all that, he was intensely interested in how the whole thing would come off.

  Neither gentlemen proved himself to be a sparkling wit, but both had the benefit of not mentioning Lord Lockwood once. As well, neither seemed aware that the gentlemen of the pact were in the neighborhood and just now staying at Lady Montague’s house. Sybil had hoped they would have cleared off by now, but earlier in the day Lady Hugh had said they’d fairly invited themselves to the regatta and the ball.

  Sybil did her very best to marshal her thoughts. She must keep them in the present and located firmly at Dartsfell Hall. It would not do to allow herself to think of what might be happening in the environs of York. The inevitable engagement between Lord Lockwood and Poppy would be one more further confirmation of her nonentity status. It would even cause embarrassment, as there were those who had viewed Lord Lockwood’s attentions to her at various parties during the season. Then, he happens to come to a house party she attends. Then, he promptly pursues another of the ladies in the house. She prayed nobody would think to whisper that she suffered from disappointed hopes.

  She did not suffer from such a thing. Not in the least. Her feelings the night before had only been overwrought. She did not have a particular regard for anybody, and certainly not Lord Lockwood. Though, she could not stop people from saying she did and could not bear to notice any shaking of heads or pitying glances.

  Playing the pianoforte after dinner had helped to keep her mind engaged, though she found she must take her turn and allow other young ladies a chance to play. She could at least be satisfied that her playing had been very good. Even if she could no longer consider her person in any way superior, her skill at the keys would not fail her.

  When she did not play, she made one of the party for whist, though it was not a favorite of hers. At least it demanded her attention, which she found entirely beneficial at the present moment.

  Lord Burke had seemed to sense that all was not right in the world of Sybil Hayworth and had gone out of his way to cheer her, though she was certain he could not fathom the reasons for her discomfiture. His valiant efforts were appreciated by Sybil, though perhaps less so by Miss Lolly, who seemed intent on securing his attention. Sybil knew herself to be small-minded and petty for finding herself, if not pleased by it, then perhaps mollified.

  At least she was found superior to Miss Lolly, though that lady had an unfortunate overbite and a tendency to speak in a high nasal voice.

  Now, though, everybody had retired. On the morrow, there was to be a great migration to the lake. The gentlemen sailing in the regatta were to prepare their boats and, as far as Sybil could gather, the ladies were to watch them do it. She only hoped, for the footmen’s sake, there was not to be another picnic.

  Betty fussed with her hair and said, “They do like to talk below stairs. They talk ever so much about this or that.”

  Thinking it might serve to distract her from her current state of moroseness, Sybil said, “What do they talk about just now, despite your horror of repeating it?”

  “Oh, they do go on about Lord Burke,” Betty said eagerly. “The maids are swooning over him and the footmen think he’s a fine fellow.”

  “I suppose he is a fine fellow,” Sybil said, smiling.

  “Then, a-course, they think ever so much of you, Lady Sybil, as you been so kind to the maids. So I reckon it’s the most natural thing in the world that they would speculate.”

  Sybil pressed her lips together, not altogether pleased that whatever speculation was done below stairs would include mention of herself. “Out with it, Betty,” she said. “What do they say?”

  “They only say how interestin’ it would be if Lady Sybil were to take a fancy to Lord Burke. They’re very complimentary on the idea, as nobody wonders what the outcome of it would be. Whoever Lady Sybil decides to favor must congratulate himself on his good luck.”

  “Goodness,” Sybil said. “Do be so kind as to stop the talk on my behalf. Lord Burke and I are friends, as brother and sister, and no more.”

  Betty sighed as she brushed out Sybil’s hair. “That’s a shame. I wouldn’t have minded living on a duke’s estate, I expect even the servant’s quarters are refined.”

  “And yet,” Sybil said, amused, “I find I cannot marry a gentleman for the sole purpose of getting you ensconced in the refined servant’s quarters you aspire to.”

  With that, Sybil had sent Betty away to whatever sort of servant’s quarters the Hughs had on offer.

  To thin
k, her name was bandied about in the servant’s hall! There was talk of her and Lord Burke!

  Despite the idea being ridiculous, she could not help but imagine such a thing. He was very kind to her, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company. She knew from his own actions that he was stalwart and loyal. Certainly, he could not be looked upon as less than any other eligible gentleman. She supposed he would provide well for her and see that she was always comfortable. A lady could do worse.

  Perhaps it was time to mature and face reality. Perhaps it was time to be practical. If Lord Burke were to ask, perhaps she ought to say yes. After all, Poppy Mapleton could not marry everybody.

  Lord Burke would be an eminently sensible choice. Her parents would approve. All the world would approve.

  Sybil burst into tears. She reached for a handkerchief and sobbed into it. It might be rational and mature, it might be what all the world would approve, but she could not do it. She could not bear to marry Lord Burke.

  He was a friend. He was not, well, he was not… him.

  The awful truth exploded into Sybil’s thoughts. The thing that had kept trying to present itself that she had just as quickly pushed away. An idea so terrible it would doom her to be unhappy forever.

  She could not consider Lord Burke, or any other gentleman for that matter. She was in love with Lord Lockwood. When she’d felt the first inklings of it, she’d thought her head might direct her heart. Her heart had turned out to be the stronger in the match. She could no longer deny it. She was in love with Lord Lockwood, rather hopelessly, and there was nothing to be done about it. She was in love with a gentleman who pursued another. The engagement was likely fixed by now. He would be deliriously happy.

  How had she allowed such a thing to happen to her? When did it start? Why did she not stop it the moment it started? Was she really so weak as to allow an enemy of the family to creep into her affections? Was she really so foolish that she had allowed herself to form an attachment to a gentleman who had not declared himself?

  Apparently, she was that weak. She was that foolish.

  Sybil saw her future rolling out in front of her. The road was forked—in one direction she would become a spinster and live on the small inheritance from her grandmother, in the other she would marry a man she did not love. No fork led to any kind of happiness.

  She had started the season with every chance at happiness and she had ruined those chances.

  *

  Richard had made all haste back to Dartsfell Hall. It had been a crisp morning and he’d jumped on Lord Hugh’s bay and left the carriage carrying his servants to follow him. He still could not guess what had gone on with the summons to York, but it seemed less troubling in the bright sunshine. The trip had been unwanted, though it had at least given him the opportunity to master some skills with a sail.

  Now, he galloped toward something very much wanted. It was true that he had a higher hill to climb than most gentlemen. Most would only have to woo the daughter, the father primarily concerned with practical things like title and money. Lord Blanding was a different character altogether. Thoughts of a daughter becoming a duchess might sway many a father, but Lord Blanding was unlikely to put it above his feud with the duke or his condemnation of Richard’s own role in Miss Knightsbridge’s difficulties. No, it would take time and work to soothe that prickly fellow.

  Still, it was not impossible and so would be achieved. Once it had been achieved, he did not know for certain if Lady Sybil would favor him. There was not much he could do about it but press on.

  He had arrived to the house after breakfast and found the place quiet. Jiminy informed him that the guests had all gone up to ready themselves for the excursion to the lake. The men were to prepare their boats for the next day’s regatta. Richard had asked for a tea tray to be sent up and jogged up the stairs.

  As he closed his eyes and reviewed all he had learned on the water the day before, there was a soft knock on the door.

  “Enter,” he said, surprised that Kingston and Charlie had arrived to the house so quickly.

  Instead of his valet and his young charge, Lord Burke entered the room. “I heard you were back from York and Jiminy directed me to your room,” he said. “I hope I do not disturb?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Burke,” Richard said cheerfully, leaping up from his chair. “How do you do? I did not know you would attend the regatta.”

  Lord Burke sat down and narrowed his eyes. “Really?” he said. “I come nearly every year. I would say the more pertinent comment is I did not know you would attend. I have never seen you here.”

  Richard waved his hands. “Distant connection, recently discovered.”

  “If I am not overstepping, may I ask,” Lord Burke said, “why you told people you went to see your mother in York? You do know my own parents just now visit your mother and father in Norfolk?”

  Richard leaned forward. “I did not know that. Well, I could not be entirely certain of the ruse, but that confirms it.”

  “What ruse?” Lord Burke asked.

  Richard pulled the last letter he’d received, purporting to be from his mother, from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Lord Burke.

  “I have received three of these,” Richard said. “The first summoning me to York and the next two telling me to wait, as my mother was delayed. We finally figured out yesterday that they might be forgeries, though I have no idea who would do it.”

  Lord Burke read over the letter. “Are your mother’s letters always written by a secretary? Are they always written in this… I’m not sure what to call it, let us say it is a particular style?”

  “Yes,” Richard said. “It is precisely the way she writes—cryptic and with no consideration. Though Charlie, one of my servants, pointed out that anybody who had ever corresponded with my mother might have imitated her manner. He’s a clever lad, that one.”

  “Very odd,” Lord Burke said. “Did you know that Dalton, Ashworth, Cabot, and Grayson are in the neighborhood?”

  Richard sat up. “What? Where? Have you seen them? What did they say?”

  “I have not seen them. Apparently, they stay with Lady Montague,” Lord Burke said. “I cannot work out what exactly is going on round here, but it all seems exceedingly odd. Why should they stay with Lady Montague, of all people?”

  Richard walked to the window and peered out, assuring himself his friends were not even now creeping up to the house to bundle him off. “I think I can guess who wrote the letters calling me to York. It must have been Lady Montague. She schemes with Dalton to lure me away from the house.”

  Lord Burke’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

  Richard felt himself flush. Of course he knew why, he had just not yet said it aloud to anyone. “They fear I have become too fixed on Lady Sybil,” he said. “They are terrified that another of us will fall to matrimony, thereby encouraging our fathers in this pact business. They even locked me in a room in Dalton’s house over it. Naturally, I broke out.”

  “And have you?” Lord Burke asked. “Have you become fixed on Lady Sybil?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have,” Richard said, his tone full of defiance. “Entirely fixed and never to be unfixed, whatever anybody may say about it.”

  “I am not at all surprised,” Lord Burke said. “I thought I could see it from both sides over the season.”

  “Both sides?” Richard said, encouraged.

  “Both sides, until you were named as one of the conspirators against Miss Knightsbridge.”

  “Yes,” Richard said slowly. “There is that difficulty.”

  “Well,” Lord Burke said, “whatever those gentlemen are cooking up, you can count on me to help you fend them off. I do not condone their meddling for their own purposes and wonder that they learned nothing after their adventure with Miss Knightsbridge. If a fellow wishes to marry, I do not suppose all the friends in the world can hold him back.”

  Richard crossed the room and shook Lord Burke’s hand heartily.
“Good man! Of course, I should have known I could count on you. You always were the most sensible of us all.”

  Lord Burke clapped Richard on the back and said, “I am not so certain, though, how I might help you on the Hayworth’s side of the fence. Her father despises your father, finds the gentlemen of the pact contemptible, and Lady Sybil will back her father’s opinions.”

  “Yes, I know all that,” Richard said, rather dismissively. “I’ve been working on Lord Blanding since I got here.”

  “Further, Lady Sybil imagines you fixed in an entirely different direction.”

  Before Lord Burke could go on, Charlie burst into the room.

  “Hey ho,” he said merrily, “off to the lake we go.” Noting Lord Burke, Charlie paused and executed an elaborate bow. “My lord,” he said in a low and serious-sounding tone.

  Richard laughed and said, “What have you done with my valet?”

  “Oh he’s a-comin’ up behind,” Charlie said. “He’s slower than me, what with haulin’ the trunk.”

  “Go get it from him, you little blighter,” Richard said.

  Charlie shrugged, turned on his heel and sprinted from the room.

  “Street urchin now in my employ,” Richard said by way of explanation. “Strange story.”

  “Your stories generally are,” Lord Burke said drily. “In any case, before I leave you to it, Lady Sybil believes you have formed an attachment to Miss Mapleton.”

  “Miss Mapleton?” Lord Lockwood said, laughing. “Entirely ridiculous. Ah, but then, Lady Sybil is a wonderfully perverse little creature, is she not?”

  *

  Sybil was handed into the carriage with Lady Blanding, Lady Hugh, and Lady Niemore. She had not been even certain she wished to go to the lake. The men were to prepare their boats for the morrow’s regatta, which she did not think would be so very interesting. Then, there was the further fact that Lord Lockwood had returned to the house. She might not have known it, had she not overheard Miss Lolly talking of it to her mama.