Page 7 of Gambling with the Earl
Kitty stared at her sister, her mind racing. “What did you say?”
Rosalind frowned back, crumpling the mint between her fingers. “What do you mean?”
“Just now. What did you say just now?” Kitty clutched her skirts to control her mounting excitement.
“That you could do anything.” Rosalind shrugged. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”
“I could find work as a maid or servant.” Kitty tried out the words and found she didn’t hate them.
“If you wanted. But you shouldn’t have to. You’re a direct descendent of the Duke of Answick.” Rosalind’s voice grew loud and high.
Kitty held up a hand to stop her. “Would you say I could find work as a serving maid here in Rossfarne?” She held her breath. The plan forming before her eyes was bold and daring, but was it workable?
“Of course.” Rosalind screwed up her pretty face. “Although it’s unlikely anyone in the village would have enough coin put by to hire a maid. And they probably wouldn’t hire you out of respect for Mother.” She unclenched her fingers and let the crumpled mint fall to the ground. A small garden bird hopped forward to inspect this surprising offering, then flew off into the apple tree.
Kitty folded her arms tightly across her chest, conscious of her restrictive clothing. On the distant horizon she could just make out the battlements of Rossfarne Castle. A gull cried mournfully overhead, spurring her towards a decision.
“I imagine the Earl of Rossfarne has plenty of coin,” she said.
Her sister looked up sharply, her blue eyes squinting against the weak sunlight. “You can’t mean what I think you mean.”
“Why not?” Kitty swallowed. “It’s a way out of this.” She paused, still testing out the idea in her head. “I can’t go to the castle and ask for the jewels to be returned, not now that I know what Father did. But I can go to the castle in disguise, find the jewels and bring them back to you.”
“No.” Rosalind shook her head so vigorously her hair came unpinned. “It’s far too dangerous.”
“I’d be as good a servant as anyone.” Kitty inspected her square nails and scuffed knuckles, fighting down a ripple of anxiety. “And the new earl has only just come to Rossfarne, so it’s likely his household is not yet complete,” she thought aloud.
“You’ll be recognised.” Rosalind grasped at the trunk of the apple tree, as if she could no longer support her own weight.
“No, I won’t.” Kitty had already thought of this. “No one from the village works at the castle. The old earl brought all his servants from over the county border. And they scarcely ever come across to the mainland.”
“True enough mayhap, but it’s still a terrible idea. The earl will be looking for you.” Rosalind faltered and her cheeks flushed even pinker than before.
Kitty spoke quickly to cover her discomfort. “I’ll give a false name. He has no idea what I look like.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Who knows, he may have even forgotten about Father’s wager.” She bit her lip as a new wave of embarrassment washed over her. “But we know he definitely has the jewels. And we need them back.”
“But your hair,” Rosalind blurted out, her eyes open wide in a mute appeal for Kitty to see sense.
Her sister’s words gave her a moment’s pause. She couldn’t deny that her tumbling locks of red hair would give her away as her father’s daughter to anyone who had laid eyes upon him. They shared the exact shade of burning copper, rarely seen on these shores. And the resemblance didn’t stop there. She had also inherited his height, his flashing sea-green eyes and his infamous stubbornness.
But despite all that, she wasn’t about to turn back now.
“I shall keep my head covered,” she promised. “Besides, I won’t be there long enough for anyone to start caring who I am or where I come from.”
*
Kitty held backher tears until she had hugged her sister goodbye and was striding across the sandy beach in a direct line towards the thin causeway. A slight breeze buffeted back the floppy straw hat she had borrowed from Lizzie. She was obliged to use one hand to hold it in place while the other clutched at the skirts of her rough woollen servant’s dress. With every step she took away from Shoreston, she lost a little of her courage. Twice she nearly turned back, but the memory of Rosalind’s face kept her going.
A group of small children were playing on the sands, searching for shells and daring one another to run into the waves. Their happy shrieks put her in mind of her sister as a carefree young girl and she walked on with renewed purpose. Luckily no one was about to witness her journey to the Isle of Rossfarne. If anyone had tried to stop her—or worse, recognised her—she would have wilted to the ground with shame. Alfred’s words still echoed through her mind.
You belong to the Earl of Rossfarne.
What would the earl have done to her if Alfred hadn’t run back from the alehouse and warned them to hide?
She shuddered so violently her pattens slipped on the wet stones and she very nearly fell. Once again, she looked towards home with a lump in her throat. It wasn’t too late to turn back.
She breathed deeply to quell her rising panic, but the grief in her heart refused to be denied. All of the pain and upset of the past evening reared up inside her. Father’s anger, Rosalind’s fear, Lizzie’s helpless worrying. Her fingers clutched at her skirts as she remembered Alfred’s staunch bravery, especially when he had drawn the bolt against the master of the house. Such kindness and love she had known, and now she was walking away from it, to the castle of a monster.
She closed her eyes. These thoughts would get her nowhere. She was like an overtired youngster, growing more hysterical by the minute. She must think and act more positively, like a young woman taking steps to secure her family’s future. To secure Rosalind’s future.
