Page 10 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“It’s fine, dear,” the countess said. “Now, be quick and gather your brothers. I want them marching out here the moment the hand ends.”
“Yes, Mother,” he replied.
Seconds later, the countess passed by Clara, who pivoted quickly around the pillar so the lady would not see her. So that’s where Dilworth had been this entire time! The indignation she’d felt at first was swelling into full, unchecked anger. He had decided that some foolish card game was more important than spending time with her. And what was all this about him having a gambling problem? To be sure, she had known that his finances were somewhat strained, but she had assumed that was because of a bad investment, or debt that had been inherited from prior generations. From the way the dowager countess spoke, though, it sounded as if his gambling was enough of a serious, persistent problem for his losses to be common knowledge.
Clara didn’t know which bothered her more, his lack of manners or his lack of self-control. It had been at his request that they attend this ball together but he had abandoned her to gamble. It wasn’t polite at best, and she shouldn’t allow such behavior. What would he be like if they married? Would he try to gamble away her inheritance? He’d seemed so refined, so well kept. She’d never pictured him as a gambler. But now she had a new perspective on him, and she did not like the look of it at all.
A heavy dose of worry slid down the back of her throat. She needed to talk to Hubert to get to the bottom of this. If he wouldn’t come to her, she would go to him.
Clara peered down the hallway to where a man was striding away. Intrigued to see if she could follow this Alfred to find her soon-to-be fiancé, Clara hurried down the hallway after him.
Large numbers of guests wandered throughout the main hallway, making it difficult to keep track of the gentleman. But the crowds worked in her favor in other ways. In the bustling rush of dozens of people seeking to find their friends, or reach the refreshments, or locate the powder room, no one paid any mind to her as she darted around, trying to keep the younger Trembley in her sights.
At the end of another long hallway, they had distanced themselves enough from the crush that Clara could see him lift the edge of a great tapestry hanging on the wall and slide behind it. The tapestry rippled gently before settling back into place. There must be an entrance or passageway of some sort behind it—she could think of no other explanation.
Clara quickly moved towards the tapestry. Hands flat against the rough fabric, she felt all around it until she discovered a bump against the wall. Moving her fingers behind it, she pushed the tapestry back to find a small wooden door with a cold metal latch. After a quick glance down the hallway, she pulled back the latch, pushed the door open, and hastened inside.
It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She stood at the foot of a cramped staircase that led to a sliver of light at the top. Intrigued, Clara’s hands went to the walls in search of a handrail, but when she found none, she skimmed her fingertips along the wood paneling.
Step by step she went, her heart thudded loudly in her chest. What a marvelous thing to have a secret passageway in one’s house! Clara loved clever hiding places and wondered where this one led to as she climbed.
When she reached the top, she realized the sliver of light came from the other side of a heavy, velvet drape. Her fingers curled around the fabric as she gently pushed it aside and peered out cautiously, uncertain what she would find. The number of books on the far wall could only mean she had arrived at a library, or at least on a balcony in a library. There was no one up here. Besides a chair and some oil lamp sconces, it seemed rather a tight area, and she doubted more than two bodies could stand up here comfortably.
Coming out from behind the drape, Clara saw a small landing to her left that led down a tight spiral staircase. Clara noted that this room smelled heavily of cigars and books as her hand settled on the top of the railing. She was tempted to go down it when she heard voices from the room below.
“I suggest you leave now.” A strong, masculine voice caught her ears.
She gingerly peered over the railing, making sure not to lean too far forward in case someone saw her. But no one seemed to be looking in her direction at all. Everyone’s attention was focused on the center of the room where a number of gentlemen were standing around a table. The tall, dark-haired duke she had bumped into earlier that evening was staring daggers at Dilworth.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Dilworth moved, coming around the table.
“Surely you don’t mean to take Miss Woodvine from me? She’s nothing to you.”
“Nor you, apparently.”
Goodness, they were talking about her. But why? What was happening? Why would Dilworth be conversing about her with a man she had never met before?
“But if I don’t marry her, I can’t pay you her dowry.”
Oh dear, theywerereferring to her. But it had to be a jest…Surely Dilworth hadn’t…bether dowry? What right had he to do such a thing? They weren’t even engaged!
“You don’t mean to marry the girl,” she heard Dilworth say. “She’s practically an old maid.”
Clara’s mouth fell open as her cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Old maid? Was that what he thought of her? After all his flowery declarations of how he adored her, was this the truth? Here she had believed they would make a fine match—that they had a good foundation to build a real and genuine love. Apparently she had been wrong.
Stupid, stupid girl. She scowled as tears came to her eyes. No, no, she couldn’t cry. Not here, not now. It was mortifying to be the object of a bet, and she would surely die of shame later that night when she returned home, but she wouldn’t give any of these vile men the satisfaction of seeing her shamed. Not after they had stood by and allowed such a disgraceful bet to be made in the first place. No one had interfered, and even now, no one spoke in her defense. It was indeed a mystery why anyone outside of the ton would wish to marry into the peerage.
Well, she had something to say about it. Taking a deep breath and feeling somewhat numb, she found the spiral staircase that led down to the room’s main floor.
“Combe,” the earl was saying. “You can’t want the girl. Let Dilworth keep her and take what he has offered.”
“I’m afraid that won’t work.” Clara’s voice came out far louder and calmer than she felt.
She descended the staircase slowly, shaking with fury as she steadied her raging heartbeat with stable breath. Though these men were supposedly descendants of honorable men, she glared at them without any respect.
“Miss Woodvine,” Hubert said, taking a step towards her, but she held up her hand, stopping him.
