The Wicked Wager Page 5

  “Next time, Emma, stay indoors unless you have a suitable chaperone.”

  “Yes, uncle,” she replied quietly.

  He could have been extremely angry, but his mind seemed preoccupied. She wondered uneasily if the earl had made him suspicious. The duke would have to investigate now, and that meant she would have to go through his letters and make sure the earl’s secret stayed safe.

  Emma silently cursed the earl and his foolish babbling. It was hard to hide his upbringing, and he had not had enough time to prepare. Still, this was his own foolish plan to begin with.

  Oh! Why did he have to spout Latin now of all times?

  Chapter 6

  “You seem disturbed, my dear … is anything the matter?”

  Emma looked at Lady Babbage in surprise. She had never expected the woman to be so perceptive. Even Catherine was unaware of the turmoil raging inside her.

  She was worried about the earl, and she was sure the duke would start his investigations soon. She would have to steal into his study and go over his letters. She could not afford to have the duke delving into the head gardener’s background by writing to Bow Street Runners or private investigators.

  Her father’s denials of sending a gardener could no longer be waived off either. Richard would receive any correspondence written to him, but the entire scene of the morning might prompt the duke not to trust him.

  This charade was getting harder by the day and the lies piling up.

  “No, I am alright. I woke early this morning, so I am a trifle tired.”

  “Are you sure there is nothing else bothering you? You can trust an old woman, and I am hardly a gossip. Someone older than you may be able to advise you better.”

  “I assure you, it is nothing, Lady Babbage.”

  Lady Babbage searched Emma’s face and shook her head dissatisfied. She leaned over and patted her hand.

  Emma was touched by the woman’s concern. She may have judged the woman harshly. She was boring, one could not get away from that fact, but she was kind as well. Emma gave her a genuine smile for the first time.

  She was wrong about Catherine not noticing her stress. As soon as Catherine got Emma alone, she asked her what was wrong.

  Emma had the urge to spill all her secrets. But she had given her word to the earl, and Catherine may not find the entire thing as entertaining as she hoped. They were, after all, lying to her father. On the other hand Catherine would be right in scolding her, since deceiving the duke was no longer fun.

  “I must be missing Richard.” It was partly true.

  Catherine accepted her statement, confident Emma would not hide anything from her. She had never been in love, and looking at Emma’s face she wondered if it were worth all the trouble.

  “The Barkers arrived this afternoon. Mamma put them up in the guest rooms. They have been resting from the long journey and will join us for dinner.”

  Emma’s mood grew more depressed.

  “Oh, can we not send them back?”

  “I do not think we can put frogs in Prudence’s bed anymore. We have no choice but to behave like ladies and let them stay as long as they like.” She was quiet for a moment and then continued, “I don’t understand why father says Sir Henry Barker is his good friend. I have never seen them have a meaningful conversation, and I doubt the Barkers have an ounce of intelligence between them to excite any interest in father.”

  Emma glanced at Catherine. She had never heard her cousin speak ill of anyone before. What had prompted that anger on her face?

  Catherine continued, “This last one year when you left for London I realised that we had grown up. I could no longer afford to have my head in the clouds. I started observing people in order to get over my shyness. Once you know something intimately, then you lose your fear of it. I am still learning and do not pretend to be an expert on human behaviour. Since I have always been so quiet and lost, it is easier for people who know me to let down their guard. I watched Mrs Barker today when they arrived. You were taking a nap at the time, and I had gone to the library to fetch a book. What I saw made me realise that some people are truly vicious.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I may be reading too much into it, and I don’t want to tell you lest it colour your perception as well. Just observe her today at dinner, and see if you notice anything odd. Try and forget her grating voice, and for once listen to all she has to say. I would like your opinion before being entirely convinced that I am right.”

  Emma searched her cousin’s face thoughtfully. She recalled the last time Prudence had joined them for an extended stay. She had been a pest, making Catherine her target. She would pick faults and criticize everything Cat did, often running to the duke with nasty tales. She did not dare offend Emma because she knew Emma would not tolerate it and would reciprocate in kind.

  During the entire time that Prudence had stayed with them, Catherine maintained her good humour. Yet now, within a day of their arrival, her cousin looked decidedly vexed.

  Mrs Barker had always seemed flighty like her daughter. She was foolish yet harmless, so hearing her angelic cousin describe Mrs Barker as vicious was astonishing, to say the least.

  She was secretly delighted to see that something could ruffle her cousin’s composure, though she wasn’t sure if she should get enjoyment from something like this. Her own troubles now seemed less severe, and the prospect of entertainment instead of a painful dinner had her back in good humour.

  ***

  The earl was still growling in frustration. Every few minutes the entire encounter with the duke would rise before his eyes and mock him. Very clever, he thought to himself irritably. Babble like a fool in front of the duke to impress Emma. That was exactly what he was here for, to make a complete and utter goose of himself and make the duke look grander than King George.

  He should pack his bags and return to his home in London. He was a pathetic excuse of an earl, and all his fancy schooling was more of a hindrance than a help. No matter how hard he tried his lofty accents refuse to change into the cruder tone of a commoner. That was another reason why the other servants made fun of him.

  The only pleasure he got was the few minutes stolen at his valet’s rooms where he ordered a bath and soaked himself to the bone. Constantly bending over flower beds and stooping was making him feel as old as the gardener he was impersonating. He slipped deeper into the warm tub, wriggling his toes in pleasure.

  His ego was thoroughly bruised. In fact it had been trampled on, and heels had been dug in the particularly sore spots, over and over again.

  He recalled a horrid time in his life when he had last felt this lost amongst strangers. He had been ten years old at the time. His mother had hugged him tight and bawled all over him before dropping him off at a prestigious boarding school, aptly named, ‘The Austere Academy for Gentlemen'.

  His father had firmly told him that this would be his new home for a while. Yet his young mind had refused to grasp the fact that, after a day of playing with children his own age, he would not be going home for the night. He had assumed his parents had been jesting.

  By supper time he had enough. After being served a sorry soup, soggy bread, and the worst tasting rice pudding in all of England, the young earl could handle no more.

  He threw down his spoons and let out an outraged howl. He no longer cared if the other boys thought he was a baby for crying. He bawled and cried, but no one seemed in the least interested. He was petted by a teacher but told firmly that he would have to stay. The earl took this as a challenge. The gauntlet had been thrown.

  His full throated cry had set off a number of youngsters, and while the teachers rushed to soothe the many screaming children, the earl brushed off his tears and stood. He squared his shoulders and slowly made his way towards the door. He gripped the brass handle with his tiny hands and twisted with all his might. The door groaned open, and he was off like a shot, making his way towards the main entrance. He was out in the gardens before
the teachers realised what had happened.

  The guards noticed the earl running out of the gate and attempted to stop the young lad.

  The earl, using all his wiles, dodged the guards by ducking below their arms and skidding between their legs.

  He had a good start, and a number of students emboldened by the sight of the running earl joined him in his cause.

  The teachers ran helter-skelter catching boys of various sizes, and in the confusion the earl cleverly climbed up an apple tree on the outskirts of the school. He sat munching a juicy apple while the entire school came out with torches to hunt down the deserter.

  The dark worked to his advantage. The earl was not discovered. He slipped down the tree when he deemed it safe and made his way towards the main road. He used his pocket money to hitch a ride to his home four hours away from the school.

  His pitiful allowance would not have gotten him so far, but the old farmer had a soft heart. He had luckily been going that very route, and carrying the little tear stained boy would not put him out. He gently wrapped a blanket around the boy and tucked him in at the back of the cart.

  The earl slept peacefully and only woke to his mother’s horrified screeches.

  He was deposited back to the school within two days. Yet his success at outwitting the entire school had made him a hero amongst the other boys. They looked at him in admiration.

  His brilliant ideas of gluing teachers to chairs, putting spiders in desks, and bribing servants for treats, to name a few, bought him the loyalty and love of his classmates.

  When he grew a little older, his status as the heir to the Hamilton estate and earldom won him the respect of his peers. Apart from his standing in society, the earl’s very nature endeared him to those around him. His affability, charm, and his ever ready spark of mischief, made it hard for others not to genuinely like him. Except for the occasional bouts of fisticuffs that was considered normal for any growing healthy boy, the earl led an easy life.

  That easy life continued until he turned eighteen, after which his parents died.

  They had been traveling to Africa, and their ship was caught in a storm and sank at sea. That was when he started learning about responsibilities, but even then he had been treated well by his peers.

  Never in his life had he been teased so mercilessly. Someone who had grown up with taunts might have had a better time of it. They would have become immune to it, learnt to ignore the jibes or laugh it off.

  The earl was unaware of how to react, and his angry outbursts delighted and encouraged his bullies. Living the life of a servant was dreary and they found what joy they could in their games, however petty or cruel.

  Not everyone treated him badly he acknowledged. The cook always kept the softest meat for him so his old teeth would not suffer. The housekeeper kept a polite, respectful distance, and the under-gardeners did not dare cross him as he was the one in charge.

  However, the stable hands, Pickering the butler, and the various other helpers around the estate, had no qualms in taking pleasure in his annoyance.

  The earl seethed quietly. He truly did not want to stay on any longer. Yet perversely he wanted see the charade through until the end and win this game. He was not a coward or a quitter. Once he made up his mind, he always stuck to his decision with bullheaded doggedness.

  He decided that he would start by taking risks. The duke could discover his identity at any time, and he no longer had the leisure to take things slow.

  He would have his fun, since that was exactly why he had started this whole thing in the first place. He could always escape before the duke put him up on a donkey in a lady’s skirt.

  A slow smile spread across his face as he planned his next move.

  “You are rapidly resembling a dried grape, My Lord.”

  The earl grinned as he stepped out of the tub. He wanted to get right back to the Arden estate and put his plans into action.

  Chapter 7

  Emma walked into the dining room and was momentarily stunned speechless. The guests were already seated, but she wished they hadn’t been …

  … Mrs Barker had her assets spilling out of her scarlet gown, and a hysterical Emma wondered if the footman could balance the soup plate on the gigantic breasts on display. Her upright position gave her a splendid view down the never-ending depths of Mrs Barker’s ample bosom.

  She hurried to take her seat beside Catherine.

  They caught each other’s eyes and stifled a giggle. Catherine discreetly tilted her head towards her right. Emma glanced in the direction indicated and once more forced her open mouth to close.

  Prudence Barker sat in a deep pink gown, wearing a hairdo that rivalled the Tower of London. Emma could scarcely see the hovering servant behind the pile of curls. A massive teapot was placed carefully in the nest of black curls.

  “That is an interesting hairstyle, Prudence,” remarked the duchess. Even she had been brought out of her haze by the extraordinary vision.

  “It is, isn’t it? It is all the rage in France. Why, the Countess of Elridge, who as we all know is the very epitome of fashion, had a ship perched atop her head. It is difficult to move one’s head lest the tea dribble down and ruins one’s dress, but I think I have mastered the art,” replied Prudence, pink with pleasure at the thought of creating such a stir.

  “Surely you do not need to fill the tea pot with tea? It is not as if you are going to drink it, since it must be stone cold by now. And getting it out of your hair must be a task in itself,” commented the duke blandly.

  “Oh, but if one does something, then one must do it right,” chirped Mrs Barker. “My daughter has been out long enough to know what is deemed proper,” she finished, glancing meaningfully at Catherine.

  Catherine, to give her credit, did not change colour but smiled back amiably. Her own hair was brushed back into an elegant, low coif.

  They paused briefly while the soup was served. Once the servers departed, Mrs Barker leaned forward and once again addressed the duke,

  “I did not want to wear such a bold colour tonight, My Lord, I mean,” she said simpering, “I am too old to wear such things, but Poo Poo positively insisted, she would have it no other way.”

  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.

  “Than
k 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.