Page 3 of Gambling with the Earl
All she could hear was the frantic hammering of her own heart. The silence stretched for so long it was almost unbearable. Then came the unmistakable sound of the bolts in the front doorsliding shut. Kitty couldn’t wait a second longer. She stood up, stretching her cramped limbs, and nudged open the pantry door. The kitchen was flooded with moonlight and both girls blinked until their eyes adjusted. Rosalind’s clean white chemise was smeared with dust. Kitty would have to scrub it in the morning.
“Has he gone?” Rosalind whispered, her voice high and shaking.
Kitty paused. The house felt peaceful once again. “I think so.”
She indicated for Rosalind to stay where she was and crept slowly forwards herself. They both jumped with fright as a looming male figure appeared in the kitchen doorway, but relaxed as Alfred spoke up.
“Come and see, both of you.” His voice was bone weary.
They followed the tall man and his flickering candle back down the passage and into the parlour, wincing at the cold of the floor. Kitty stopped abruptly when she saw the drawers of the dresser standing open. The cabinet doors had been ripped from their hinges and flung across the room. Had father opened the small drawer and taken the jewels? Her body trembled with cold and worry, but Alfred was already ushering them towards the window.
“Stand here,” he insisted. “And don’t fret. Master or not, we won’t be letting Owain back in. Not tonight. Not ever.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Everything has changed.”
Kitty looked at him searchingly, but Alfred refused to meet her eyes. He held back the heavy, mouldy-smelling drapes, motioning for her to squash in beside Rosalind, before letting them fall and encasing them once again in darkness.
She frowned at the scene before her. Their usually quiet country lane was thronged with men holding lanterns and torches. The men were quiet, although their faces were set and determined. In the midst of them all stood a great, black carriage.
“The Earl of Rossfarne,” Rosalind yelped. “The carriage is his. Look at the coat of arms.”
“The Earl of Rossfarne is dead,” Kitty replied without thinking, shuddering a little at the memory of the evil man who had plagued their small village with his debauched, barbaric ways since before she was born. Tales from Rossfarne Castle could make the most hardened fisherman blanche.
“Miss Rosalind is right.” Alfred’s voice came from behind the drape. “The new Earl of Rossfarne has now taken up residence in the castle.”
“I didn’t even know he had any family,” Rosalind mused. “Still, I hope he’s a kinder man than his father was.”
Kitty frowned at her sister. Kindness didn’t come into it. The Earl of Rossfarne had been a danger to all right-thinking men and women. Especially women.
Protected as she was, it was important Rosalind was aware of such things. But Alfred spoke before Kitty could put these complicated thoughts into words.
“Not his father, his uncle,” he corrected her gently. “The new earl is his nephew. And he has not yet demonstrated any kindness or leniency,” he added with a break in his voice.
“What’s Father doing?” Rosalind interrupted.
Kitty pressed forward until her breath clouded the glass. Owain was walking unsteadily up their front path towards the carriage. He staggered from side to side, but not one of the watching men extended a hand to help him. As he reached the carriage, the door swung silently open and Kitty flinched backwards as a shaft of moonlight fell upon the outline of a tall, muscular man. She caught sight of a chiselled jawline and gleaming dark eyes, before Owain held up a small cloth bag with shaking arms and all the blood drained out of her body.
“Mother’s jewels,” she whispered, the awful reality hitting her.
“Your mother’s jewels,” Alfred repeated steadily. “He lost them in a game of dice.”
“To the Earl of Rossfarne?” Kitty’s mouth was as dry as sand.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” Alfred mumbled, but Kitty wasn’t listening. What could be worse than the loss of their inheritance and Rosalind’s best chance of a future?
Owain handed over the cloth bag and anger unfurled in Kitty’s chest as the Earl slowly inspected its contents. What did a man as rich as he need with their mother’s precious jewels? He would most likely forget he had them by morning.
An unfamiliar voice, low and masculine, spoke from the carriage. “Is that all of them?” His words were clear despite the distance. It was a voice of authority, accustomed to giving commands. A voice which sent shivers down her spine.
“Every last one, my lord.” Owain ducked into a half bow and Kitty heard a great roaring sound in her ears, as if the sea was crashing upon the rocks in a mighty storm. Her vision blurred and she had to grip the drapes with white-knuckled fingers to stay upright. The next part of the conversation was lost to her, but she saw Owain hold his hands up as if in apology and the earl sniff contemptuously.
“By morning, I swear to it,” her father was saying when she tuned back in.
The earl motioned him away. “No matter.” The door swung closed and after a second, the carriage rolled back down the lane.
“What did he mean?” Rosalind asked breathlessly.
Kitty’s head was pounding so much she feared she might fall over. “We’ve lost the jewels,” she croaked. It was all she could think of.
“The men are forming a circle around Father.” Her sister wriggled free of the heavy drape, pulling it away from Kitty in the process, but there was no cause for secrecy now. “Alfred, what’s happening?” Rosalind persisted.
