Gamble With Hearts (19 page)

‘Amelia, dear little Amelia. Won't you look at me?’ came a soft voice full of tender amusement.

She raised bewildered eyes to his face. ‘Are you not going to scold me, Sebastian? I have been very naughty, I know.’

‘Oh, my sweet,’ he laughed, catching hold of her hands and pressing them to his lips. ‘How could anyone be angry with you?’

‘You were last night,’ she reminded him in a trembling little voice.

‘Never!’ he declared. ‘It was just that I was so concerned for you, sweetheart, for you must admit you were an absolute goose to be taken in by that coxcomb. Lord knows what would have happened to you if I had not turned up.’

Miss Milverly was not so lacking in spirit as to allow this to pass unchallenged even in her present chastened mood, but Sebastian soon put a stop to all argument by taking her in his arms and kissing her soundly. As he seemed to feel that it was his chosen mission in life to protect his Amelia from her own folly, she abandoned all attempts to argue and snuggled into his arms where a happy feeling of comfort and security enveloped her.

Meanwhile, the ladies in the morning room had been favoured by two more visitors. Just as Miss Wrexham returned to the salon, the stately butler announced the arrival of Lord Fitzroy and Captain Osborne who had called to see how Charlotte did after her adventures of the previous night.

Lord Fitzroy, always the soul of politeness, enquired kindly after all the ladies' health before embarking upon a little speech that he and Osborne had worked up between them.

'Just wanted t-to say, ma'am that it was a d-dashed b-brave thing you did last night. We have known Charles for years, like a b-brother and — well, we're d-dashed happy that you are g-going to marry him after all. T-time he settled down and all that.’

‘Why, thank you, Lord Fitzroy,’ replied
Charlotte
, touched,

‘Oh call me Fitz, d-do,’ he begged with an endearing smile.

‘Fitz, then. And you too, Captain Osborne. I know what good friends you have been to Charles and I am truly grateful.’

Lady Northwood now interrupted this sotto-voce conference by calling Lord Fitzroy to her side to enquire about his dear mother, whom she had not seen in an age. The conversation became general once more. A carriage was heard in the street and Mrs Wrexham, whose glow had faded a little as the Marquis continued absent, revived instantly as that gentleman was announced.

He entered with all his usual suavity, bowed gracefully over the hand of his hostess, and accorded the whole company a charming smile. Mrs Wrexham was a little put out at receiving no particular attention, but happening to catch his eye she encountered a look so warm as to cause her to blush as rosily as any schoolgirl. He smiled at her confusion and addressed her in a gentle voice. ‘Dear ma'am, I owe you a very great debt. Your kindness to my foolish daughter overwhelms me. How can I begin to show my gratitude?’

‘By forgiving the silly child; and forgetting the whole incident, my lord. Indeed, I think she has been made miserable enough,’ she answered with a coaxing smile.

‘Of course, you are right, ma'am. And now, if Lady Northwood will forgive us, I would be most grateful if you would take me to my daughter. I feel she should not be left in dread of a scold any longer.’

Rising, he held out his hand in a masterful manner that quite overpowered Mrs Wrexham. Charlotte and Lady Northwood studiously avoided looking at the interesting couple; each had formed her own perfectly correct conclusions and was delighted with this unexpected turn of events. The two young men noticed nothing whatsoever and continued to converse amiably. Amelia and Sebastian were discovered seated cosily in the conservatory. Mr Edridge had one arm around his betrothed and with the other was engaged in tracing the lovely lines of her face. They were not unnaturally rather embarrassed to be found in this situation and Sebastian hastened to explain that Miss Milverly had at last consented to be his wife.

‘That is, if you still agree, sir,’ he added, observing that the Marquis appeared rather distrait.

‘Oh yes, my boy, that's quite alright. In fact, I am delighted.’

‘Then you forgive me, Papa, for my wickedness?’ whispered Amelia, peeping at her father from under demurely lowered lids.

‘You exaggerate, Amelia, my love. Let us rather say your foolishness. Of course I forgive you. I only hope that you may find it in your heart to forgive your blundering old Papa. I fear that you may find that a more difficult task.’

‘Oh Papa!’ cried Amelia, and tumbled headlong into his arms.

Mrs Wrexham stood observing this embrace with a good deal of satisfaction. It gave her great pleasure to see two people that she loved reconciled and to know that she was in no small way responsible. She reflected that she had a great deal to be thankful for. Charlotte was so happy with her Viscount, and she herself—no, she could not put into words her own hopes. She would not tempt malignant fate so much.

Miss Milverly had raised her head from her father's shoulder and was now having her tears wiped gently away. She smiled sunnily into his face and was rewarded with a loving kiss.

‘And now, my children, it is time you returned home. Amelia, make your curtsey to Lady Northwood and remember to thank her for her hospitality. Sebastian will take you home in my carriage.’

‘Are you not coming home then, Papa?’ she questioned in some surprise.

‘Not yet, Amelia,’ he answered, smiling over her curls at Mrs Wrexham, who felt suddenly a little breathless. ‘I have some important business to attend to.’

Mr Edridge glanced quickly from the Marquis to the lady and, smiling broadly, he ushered Miss Milverly from the room, closing the door behind him with the greatest care.

‘What a thoroughly estimable young man,’ remarked the Marquis, strolling across the room to where Mrs Wrexham stood rather nervously playing with a dilapidated flower.

‘Yes, indeed, he will make Amelia a very good husband,’ she answered with an attempt at calm.

‘Now that is interesting. Tell me, ma'am, what exactly you mean by “a good husband”. I would really very much like to know.’

She sat down abruptly. ‘Well, sir, I would say that he will be very kind to her and will love her tenderly and faithfully. I do not know what more any woman could want.’

Coolly the Marquis seated himself and possessed himself of her hands. ‘And if you were to meet a man who would be kind to you, who would love you tenderly and faithfully for as long as you both should live, would you want for anything more?’

‘No, I do not think I should,’ she answered quietly.

‘My dear, will you marry me?’ he asked, watching her face with unaccustomed anxiety.

She raised her head at that and gave him a smile so radiant that he did not wait for an answer before sweeping her into his arms. She emerged from this embrace laughing and breathless, her hair disarrayed and her cap askew.

‘Oh Fanny, Fanny,’ he murmured, holding her to his heart. ‘My dear love. How you have changed my life in these few weeks. I had thought love dead for me, but now, now I am revived, rejuvenated!’

‘I too believed I should live the rest of my life alone,’ she told him. ‘I neither expected nor desired that this should happen, but, my dear, dear friend, I cannot express how happy you have made me.’

‘You shall be happier yet,’ he assured her gladly. ‘I will make sure of that. What pleasure can there be for me now but to gratify your every wish?’

Mrs Wrexham gave a sigh of pure joy. No woman could listen to such a declaration unmoved; but she considered herself particularly fortunate for at her age she had given up all expectation of future happiness. For a brief moment she dwelt on the rich contentment of her first marriage and a slight feeling of guilt obtruded into her happiness. It was quickly banished; she knew that if her dear husband were able to follow the doings of his little family from wherever he now rested, he would be only too ready to applaud her. Ruthin had been watching her face as these thoughts flashed across her mind. He also had enjoyed a very happy marriage and had never thought to replace his beloved wife. Yet he felt that she would approve of his choice, particularly as Fanny would be able to provide Amelia with the maternal care that she had so lacked.

Mrs Wrexham glanced up to find him regarding her steadily and smiled a warm smile of deep affection.

‘Do you know, my lord, I have never yet heard anyone call you by your given name. What is it, pray?’

‘William Charles Letchworth Vernon Horatio Milverly!’ he answered at speed.

‘Good heavens, then what am I to call you, sir?’ she asked, laughing.

He smiled at her tenderly. ‘My sweet Fanny, take your pick. But not Horatio, I beg of you. I suffered that enough at Eton!’

‘I should not dream of it, dearest William,’ she answered demurely, and was caught in his arms and soundly kissed once more.

They returned to the drawing room some little time later to find that Lord Fitzroy and Captain Osborne had departed. Charlotte was extremely fidgety, flitting about the room, often crossing to the window to glance out across the Square. Charles had promised faithfully to appear that morning in order to make a formal proposal for his Charlotte's hand, and she was naturally convinced that only some terrible accident could have prevented him from fulfilling his obligations.

The Marquis, who knew him rather better, put forward the suggestion that he had overslept. In this, however, he misjudged his young friend.

Charles had risen betimes and as it was clearly ineligible to pay his betrothed a visit before she had breakfasted, he had strolled round to a coffee house that enjoyed his patronage; and there consumed a considerable repast consisting of a mutton pie, rare beef, a black pudding and some ham, the whole washed down with some excellent ale. He had just finished and was settling back in a comfortable armchair to peruse the morning paper, when he was interrupted by a voice he recognised. ‘H’if your Lordship can spare the time, there's a cove up at Bow Street as would like a word with ye.’

Looking up, he saw the burly Runner who had arrested him the previous evening. The man was obviously embarrassed by this circumstance, but Charles gave him a friendly grin and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Well, Ned, old fellow, I'm damned if I expected to see you again so soon. What's the matter? Who wants me?’

‘'im as the Beak says is your uncle. Nasty smooth-talking cove. Brought in last night ravin'. 'E's quiet now, dangerous if ye asks me, an 'e wants to see ye. ''

Not unnaturally Carlington was intrigued by this summons. He could not imagine what Pentherbridge could want with him but he had every intention of finding out. Forgetting for a moment that Charlotte expected him, he accompanied the Runner outside and set off with him for Bow Street.

Pentherbridge was not housed as comfortably in Bow Street as his nephew had been. However, he had been granted the privilege of a private cell, and was at present lodged in a dark, cramped, but reasonably clean room. He had quite recovered from the hysteria that had possessed him the previous night; had shaved and arranged his neck-cloth in a semblance of its usual nicety. He greeted his nephew with the utmost suavity, apparently unconscious of the wrong he had done him.

‘Ah, Carlington. How kind of you to drop in. I have wanted a private word with you.’

‘You see me, Pentherbridge,’ responded Charles shortly.

‘Indeed I do. The happy bridegroom! How fortunate you are, my boy.’

‘I am not your boy, and if you mention my betrothed once more you will be sorry!’

Pentherbridge shrugged. ‘By all means. However, I hope I do not offend by saying that you will soon be married and naturally will come into your inheritance. I am afraid, my boy, that you will find it sadly depleted. I fear I was not the best of stewards.’

‘You—you—damned—!’ Charles was unable to find an epithet that sufficiently conveyed his feelings at this casual admission.

‘Calm down, Charles. I appreciate your feelings, but I have a proposition to put to you. A good deal of the money I—er — appropriated has unfortunately already been spent. However, the greater part of it remains. No one but myself knows where. Think what a help such a sum would be to you in putting the estate in order. Your wife too will want to redecorate the Hall—’

He was interrupted, for Charles could stand his extraordinary insolence no longer. He flung back his chair and his fingers reached for his uncle's throat. Pentherbridge attempted, unavailingly, to tear away the hands that were choking the life out of him. However, Charles did not intend to kill his uncle, and when the first murderous rage had abated, he released him with a contemptuous laugh and he slumped to the floor, breathing raspingly and feeling his bruised throat. ‘Understand this, Pentherbridge. I will make no bargains with such as you. You who foully murdered an unsuspecting man, who caused your own brother's son to be shipped off to certain death, or so you thought.’

Pentherbridge glared at his attacker, all attempt at suavity discarded. ‘And how will you like having your name dragged in the dirt when all this comes out? Not only your name, but that little adventuress you are to marry. How will her visit to me look? Did she tell you all that happened between us? I do not think you want that generally known.’

‘Take care, you don't know how near you are to death, Pentherbridge,’ Charles told him warningly.