Marriage Gamble Read online

  He laughed suddenly.

  'Did she tell you what she said to Ryecot?'

  'I wouldn't let her talk, apart from telling me the bare facts. I was too anxious to get her dry. Then Sir Thomas received a letter saying his best friend was seriously ill, and he had to make arrangements to go down to Dorset to see him.'

  'A chapter of illnesses,' Luke said.

  'What did you hear?'

  Luke told her, and while Mary was slightly scandalized at the vehemence of Damaris's language, she had to laugh too.

  'I doubt he's ever been spoken to like that before. He's a very self-opinionated man. Well, my lord, I will keep you informed how she goes on, and you will be welcome to call at any time. In a few days she should be able to see you.'

  *

  Jennifer was sitting on a sopha, withdrawn from the rest of the ladies, all older than herself, while her mother chatted to the Marchioness of Ryecot. Mrs Frayne had met the lady at another Grosvenor Square house and taken the opportunity of enlarging her circle of acquaintances by calling on the next 'at home' day. The son of the house, though some years younger than Jennifer, was unattached, and Jennifer knew her mother still harboured ambitions to see her wed. To that end she was indefatigable in cultivating the company of any eligible man's family.

  'For you never know, my dear, what opportunities might come your way, and I always say one makes most of them oneself. So put on your new white muslin, and we will call.'

  Jennifer sighed and complied, but she could not take an interest in the gossip which was all the ladies present seemed to be interested in. Mostly it consisted of news of recent betrothals and weddings, and Jennifer knew none of these girls, for they were all much younger than she. Or it was speculation about the children born to girls her own age who had achieved marriage, and the very notion of their success and her own failure in that respect made her self-conscious. She imagined, having heard various comments about other unmarried girls, that if she and her mother were not present they would be discussing her own lack of suitors in less than flattering terms.

  The Earl had made it abundantly clear a few years ago that he had no intention of offering for her, and though she retained a tiny shred of hope that he might after all decide he wanted her as his wife, in her heart of hearts she knew she was deluding herself. If she wanted to marry, and she knew she was considered a failure until she did, she must try to attract other potential husbands.

  So when Lord Ryecot came into the room and glanced at the ladies beside his mother, then across at her, she gave him a beaming smile. If only he would come and sit beside her!

  To her barely concealed delight he did so, and even recalled her name.

  'You still have your arm in a sling, my lord. I thought the injury you sustained in the Peninsula had healed.'

  He glanced across at the Marchioness, but she did not appear to have noticed his arrival.

  'Ah, yes, but these injuries seem to have healed, and then, perhaps if one is careless and does too much, strains them, you know, there can be a relapse. It means I will not be going back to the army very soon. Indeed, Mama does not wish me to rejoin.'

  'I can understand that. It must be very worrying for mothers to know their sons are in danger, Especially if, like you, they are the heir. My own brother wants to buy a commission, but Mama is against the plan. He is my cousin Frayne's heir, you know.'

  'Until Frayne marries and sets up his nursery. I hear he's paying attention to that little dab of a female who owns Frayne Castle.'

  Jennifer frowned. It was what she suspected, but to hear it was common knowledge was unpleasant.

  'If he is he's likely to be doing it to try and regain Frayne Castle. His father lost it, most unfairly, to Miss Hallem's grandfather, who was only a common tavern keeper.'

  'So that's where she learned her language, is it?'

  'What can you mean, my lord?'

  'Oh, nothing in particular, but I am told she uses stable yard cant some of the time. Not at all the thing, if she's trying to gammon the ton into accepting her.'

  Jennifer tried not to let her satisfaction show. If Luke thought the chit could not behave properly, perhaps not even the lure of Frayne Castle could make him offer for her. She considered the sling. It was hampering, she had to admit. He could neither ride nor drive, dancing was impossible, so she would have to rely on meeting him at the theatre or private parties where dancing was not important. She began to probe, trying to discover what he was likely to be doing in the next few weeks, and determining to be present at the same events.

  *

  It was several days before Damaris was well enough to emerge from her room. Lord Frayne had sent or called to ask after her every day, flowers and fruit had arrived with brief notes that he hoped she would find them acceptable, but there was no mention of the second chess game. Damaris was thankful, for her head felt uncommonly muzzy, and she knew she would have no chance of winning in her present state.

  Sir Thomas was still in Dorset, and wrote to say his friend was very sick, and his affairs in a disastrous muddle, so he felt bound to stay and help sort them out. Mary was preoccupied with the children, for Amelia had not recovered her usual health, and was pale and listless. The house was very quiet, there were few visitors, and they refused all invitations to parties.

  The Earl did visit regularly to ask about her, and when he arrived to find Damaris alone in the drawing room, reading, he went straight to her and took her hands in his.

  'My dear, you are so pale!'

  She saw the concern in his eyes, and wondered whether it was for her, or for the necessary delay in arranging their next match. Was the endearment genuine, or calculated to disarm her? Somehow she did not want to know, it was too disturbing a thought.

  'I am recovering, thank you, my lord.'

  'Is Lady Gordon well? I have not seen her anywhere for several days.'

  'Yes, she is perfectly well but tired. She would not go out while I was ill, and Sir Thomas away. She is with the children this afternoon. Little Amelia is listless, and wants always to be with her mama. But my lord, pray sit down.'

  He did so, pulling up a small stool and sitting beside her.

  'Then I will not suggest we disturb her. I think we can dispense with a chaperone for once.'

  Damaris nodded. She was always impatient of such constraints.

  'Are you well enough to be up?'

  'I would be a candidate for Bedlam if I had to stay in my room any longer,' she said, with a laugh.

  'I see you are not a patient invalid.'

  'Not when Netta reverts to treating me like a baby again. I love her, she's been with me since I was a baby, and am thankful for her care when I am really ill. Please don't think me ungrateful, but after a few days I crave something other than soup and gruel and egg custards! I long for red meat and some of Cook's hearty pies. But I have been grateful for the fruit you sent, my lord. Netta allowed me that, and I believe it helped me to keep my temper and not throw the latest dish of gruel at the poor woman.'

  He laughed.

  'You are truly better? You look so very pale.'

  'I am much better, thank you, though feeling weak, and it is lack of fresh air that keeps me pale.'

  'Then perhaps you will drive out with me one day soon? The thunderstorms seem to have gone away, the weather is warm again.'

  'Thank you, I would enjoy that. I haven't the strength yet to ride.'

  'Tomorrow, or is that too soon?'

  'Tomorrow would be delightful.'

  'Then you must tell me all about your last drive, when I take it you got wet and caught this cold.'

  She looked at him, suddenly suspicious. There had been a hint of laughter in his voice.

  'What do you know about my last drive?'

  'I saw you returning young Ryecot to his paternal roof,' he said, laughing. 'My sister was just departing on a visit to her mother-in-law, when you drove past my house. Which reminds me, I have not yet had an opportunity of showing you
the house I am going to do my best to prevent you from winning.'

  'Some other time, please,' she said hastily. 'It would disturb your aunt if you were to take me there.'

  Damaris was trying to recall the details of that drive. She remembered the post chaise, and that she had been telling Lord Ryecot a few home truths, but not the exact words she had used. She suspected they had been unmaidenly, and blushed.

  'What has Lord Ryecot been saying?'

  'He has been very quiet, I have seen him at White's only once, and he used to be there regularly. His arm was in a sling.'

  Damaris swallowed.

  'He fell when he was trying to raise the hood on the curricle, and the horses panicked at the thunder and bolted. He said he had broken his arm.'

  'I don't think it is as bad as that. He was trying to make people believe it was a recurrence of his Peninsular wound. Unfortunately he had forgot that was his other arm. I am waiting for some brave soul to tell him. But I must leave you now, and I will hear all the details tomorrow. Give Lady Gordon my good wishes.'

  He was gone, leaving Damaris with a great deal to consider. It seemed as though Lord Ryecot had not blamed her for his new injury. Perhaps he was embarrassed, knowing he had not cut an heroic figure. She could only hope he would be as reticent about her angry tirade. She was beginning to recall more of what she had said to him, and felt another blush staining her cheeks. She could not, would not, tell Lord Frayne what sort of language she had used.

  Then she recalled he had heard some of it. How much?

  There was, she decided, no point in worrying. It was all done, and she needed to direct her energies into getting strong enough to meet the challenge of the next game of chess. With some reluctance she laid aside her book, and began to set out the chess pieces. She must concentrate on this now.

  ***

  Chapter 12

  Lord Ryecot and a party of friends were making merry in one of the boxes at Vauxhall Gardens when he became conscious of a woman standing a few feet away and regarding him steadily. Her gown had an exceedingly low-cut bodice, and he immediately assumed she was one of the impures who frequented the Gardens. When she saw she had attracted his attention she smiled, and beckoned. Ryecot promptly disentangled himself from the girl who clung round his neck, pushed her into the willing arms of a crony, and left the box.

  He thought he knew her. Perhaps he had seen her flaunting her wares at Drury Lane or Covent Garden, but not being entirely sober could not recall her name. He followed her into one of the less well lighted alleys, where she turned to face him. He reached out for her, only to have her slap his questing hands away.

  'Be done, sir, it's not dalliance I want.'

  'Hey? Then why – what the devil do you want?'

  'Come, we can sit down in the arbour further along here. I think we can help one another.'

  She turned and he followed, bemused. If this were no amorous ploy, he could not imagine what it could be.

  'I have heard you have no love for the Earl of Frayne, or his latest flirt,' she said as soon as they reached the arbour. 'You have been implying the girl is of low birth, and came by her wealth dishonestly.'

  Ryecot shook his head to try and clear it of the fumes of brandy.

  'What if I have? It's the truth, her grandfather was just a tavern keeper, and she's no better than a tavern wench.'

  The woman laughed.

  'Yes, I have heard she called you some choice names, when you were caught in one of the thunderstorms. What had you done to deserve them, my lord? Had you attempted her virtue?'

  'She'd have to be rather different before I even wanted to do that,' he snorted. 'She's not pretty, she's a hoyden, and has no idea of how to treat a better class of person. I can't see what Frayne sees in her, unless he is willing to marry her just to get the Castle back. That's what people are saying.'

  'Even for the Castle he would not contemplate such a marriage if she were utterly ruined.'

  Ryecot peered at her, but the nearest lamps were some distance away and he could not distinguish her features. Her tone, however, was bitter, and even in his fuddled state he wondered why it should matter so much to a woman such as she was.

  'Who are you, and what's your interest in the wretched female?' he demanded.

  'I'm Catherine Cartwright. Or, to be accurate, that is the name I am forced to go by.'

  Ryecot nodded in sudden comprehension, though he did not understand what difference it made if she had to use another name.

  'Frayne's bit of muslin? Of course. And when he grew tired of you he passed you on to Stanton?'

  She stiffened beside him.

  'You are insulting, my lord! I was rather more than his mistress! I'm well aware he could not openly marry me, since he is expected to wed one of his own class, and though I come from respectable parents, they are poor, and humble people. It would not do for an Earl to wed such as me. Not openly.'

  Ryecot began to think he was more disguised than he'd realized. What the devil had all this nonsense to do with him?

  'Are you saying he married you? Frayne? Like Prinny and Maria Fitzherbert? What d'you call it? Morgan-something?'

  'It was a true marriage, but one he could not acknowledge. I loved him, I was willing to have my name and honour dragged through the mud for him. Then, because he meets this girl and thinks he can get hold of that old Castle if he tricks her into marriage, he discards me, throws me out.'

  She began to sob, clutching his arm, and Ryecot was highly tempted to escape, for he could not abide lachrymose females. But the grasp on his arm was unexpectedly strong.

  'But, ain't you under Stanton's protection now? Why go to him if Frayne's your husband? It sounds damn smoky to me.'

  'What else was I to do? In the eyes of the world I was a ruined woman in any event, and I have to live.'

  'Do you mean Frayne didn't provide for you?'

  Ryecot felt a sneaking regard for a man who could do that to a woman. He wasn't sure he could have done, for it would become known, and some of the sticklers would consider it bad form. They might even say so, and he wanted to be held in high regard by the ton.

  She sobbed even louder, and he looked round anxiously. If anyone heard it could be misinterpreted.

  'Hush, do!'

  She sniffed, but to his relief the sobs were muted.

  'All I had were the jewels he'd given me. They will not last for long. But I love him still, and if only I could get rid of this Hallem woman I know I could win him back.'

  'Good Gad! You don't mean murder her? That wouldn't do at all, and Frayne wouldn't like it.'

  What, he began to wonder, did the wretched woman want with him? Why had she sought him out? If she thought he would help her to murder anyone she was quite mistaken. Not even his father and all his high connections could rescue him from such a situation.

  She shook the arm she still clasped, and he winced. Although it had not been broken as he feared, he had sprained his wrist, and it was not fully recovered.

  'Of course not! But if only I could damage her reputation past all recovery, he would be so disgusted he would come back to me. I know he would, if he did not have the temptation of that wretched Castle.'

  'You're not thinking you could use me to damage it, do you? I tell you, I'll have nothing to do with the wench.'

  'I wouldn't ask a gentleman like you to pretend to become entangled with such as that one.'

  He snorted with laughter.

  'I'd not do it, you can be sure of that.'

  Her sobs turned to laughter.

  'I have a different plan. All I need you to do, my lord, is pass on some messages. Listen, and I'll explain.'

  *

  It was two weeks before Damaris felt sufficiently recovered to undertake the second chess game. Her illness had left her weaker than usual, and her cough lingered, though she was able to go for drives almost every day with the Earl. She and Mary attended a few sedate parties, and went once to the theatre. Sir Thomas came home f
or a few days, but had to go to Ireland at the beginning of June to deal with some of his friend's business there. He warned Mary he would probably be away for two or three weeks.

  The day for the second game was fixed for early June, and once again took place in Mary's drawing room. Lord Frayne had suggested they waited a little longer, saying he thought Damaris was not fully recovered, but she insisted she was perfectly well apart from a tendency to cough occasionally. She was restless, and wanted to get it over with. Mary was talking of leaving London for a quiet seaside resort before the end of June, for a few weeks until she went to stay with her father, so if she lost there would have to be a third game before then.

  The match lasted for over two hours, and Damaris lost.

  Afterwards she tried to work out where she had made a mistake, and concluded it was when she had carelessly put her white bishop in jeopardy during the end game. The Earl had tried to console her by saying she was not yet fully well, and probably tired after such intense concentration, but Damaris rejected this attempt at excusing her failure.

  'No, my lord, I have no excuse but carelessness in not foreseeing your moves. So we must go on to the third game.'

  'Not for a few weeks, I think. You will still be in London, or do you go to Brighton?'

  'Mary has not decided. She will wait for Sir Thomas to return from Ireland, but she tells me she does not like Brighton. She would prefer some quieter resort, where the children can recover. Amelia is still much more subdued than normal, and has a poor appetite.'

  'And you remain with her?

  'Until just before my birthday, in mid-July. Then she goes to stay with her father, and I plan to go back to Frayne Castle, where my people will want to hold a celebration. I must allow them that, but afterwards I will either take control of the Castle, from Humphrey, or make arrangements to hand it over to you, my lord.'

  He did not reply, and soon took his leave. Mary, hearing the result of the game, looked worried, but did not comment. Damaris retreated to her room and began to think seriously about the real possibility she was about to lose her home. Why had she permitted her anger with the Earl to entice her into such a mad scheme?