Page 86 of His Duchess in Disguise
Leo nodded, then discarded the pair of sixes. He watched the Earl closely.
“Tell us, if you can, Your Grace,” Lord Harlow asked, “what is the current state of the Continent?”
“Frankly, Lord Harlow, I have no idea. Nor would I be so injudicious as to discuss military matters in a card game. Were you thinking to sell the information or use it on the ‘Change to better your fortunes?”
“Tsk, tsk,” the Earl of Cleweme clicked his tongue, “I had neither in mind. But if you have some juicy tips for the Exchange, I would certainly not find it amiss.”
“Buy English bonds,” Leo replied. “They might fluctuate, but in the end, they are always good value. Patriotic, besides.”
The Earl gave a snort. “And provide Parliament with money to cushion the Prince Regent’s lavish spending?”
“I heard that they put him on an allowance,” piped up the other occupant of the table, a twiggy little man, dressed in a yellow silk suit with a lavender waistcoat. His high tenor spiked with excitement, “Can you imagine? A prince on an allowance, like a callow schoolboy.”
“Regardless of how Parliament decides to spend the bonds, they, like taxes, are our obligation as loyal citizens,” Leo commented, scowling at his cards. He had been dealt a four and a five. He discarded them both and pushed two markers to the table.
The play went around another time, then the Earl spread three aces on the table. “My trick,” he said.
Leo’s hand shot out and gripped the Earl by the wrist before he could scoop up the markers on the table. “I think not, Lord Harlow.” Leo deliberately spread out the cards he had been holding since before the Earl sat down. “You will observe that I also have an Ace of spades. Dealer, if you will examine the hand my partner discarded, I believe you will have an Ace of Hearts. Therefore, it is not possible for the dealer to have given you two of the Aces that are now spread on the table.”
The Earl glowered at him, as the dealer examined the discard pile. “Quite right, Your Grace,” rumbled the dealer. “There is an ace of hearts in the discard.”
“Isn’t it an amazing thing,” Leo said silkily, “That there should be two extra Aces in a deck that was newly opened less than an hour ago. You are a card shark and a cheat, Percy, just as you were when we were boys.”
“That is Lord Harlow to you, Your Grace,” the Earl snapped, struggling to free his hand from the Duke’s grip.
“Why, of course,” Leo said lazily, deliberately shoving the hand back across the table. “I would not dream of depriving you of the title that you poisoned and assassinated your way into achieving.”
“You are a fine one to talk, having just laid both father and brother in their graves.”
“Indeed. But my alibi is impeccable. I was at sea when the fever took more than half the inhabitants of Menhiransten, including my father and brother. It is my good fortune that I was not there to be claimed by the same foul humors. Whereas yours, Earl of Cleweme, was not. It is equally amazing how all the possible witnesses met with footpads or botched house burglaries in the same week.”
“You impugn me, sir! I challenge you!” The Earl drew off one spotless glove and flung it in Leo’s face. The dandy dressed in the yellow suit drew back with a squeak.
Leo caught the glove before it touched his face. “I accept. My seconds will call on you. However, before I face you on the field of honor, I must put my house in order. Two weeks hence, Lord Harlow. My seconds will work with yours to set the time and place.”
Chapter 6
Emma sat on the edge of her bed and wept. In her initial shock and outrage, she was not only speechless, but her thoughts also ran together in a jumble of images and pain. She was alone. There was no one to turn to. She could not run to her Aunt Alicia. Uncle Zacharias Brown, the parson, would never hear of it. She might go to Mrs. Pearthorne, but that would be one of the first places her father would look.
The one thing she could not do was stay here. She would not be cozened or forced into marrying a seducer who forced other men’s wives.
More than that, she dared not wait until morning. By then, her father would have sobered up and would be more aware of her movements. Emma quickly stripped out of the ball gown and donned one of her shabby, old walking dresses. Digging in the bottom of her closet, she found a cloth valise and packed her spare chemise, extra corset, and started to pack her spare petticoats.
Changing her mind, she pulled them on under the dress, even though they made a rather bulky fit. She shrugged into her spencer and laid out her shabby, worn cloak. She then packed the gown and her mother’s shawl. It seemed like an abuse of Mrs. Pearthorne’s generosity, but perhaps she could sell the dress for a reasonable sum.
She then looked about her rooms to see what else she might sell. Her eyes fell on her beloved copy ofSense and Sensibilityand her new copy ofPride and Prejudice,which she had not quite finished reading. They were indulgences. She should not have bought them, but she had hoped to be able to take them home at the end of the Season.
She opened the tin box beneath her bed and put the remains of the money from it into a pocket, which she tied securely around her waist, placing only a few coins in her reticule. That she tied to her wrist.
Picking up her valise, she took the pillow slip from her bed, slipped down into the silent kitchen and placed a loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese and a cabbage into it.
Rags! She could not leave her dog to her father’s tender mercies. She had felt exactly how much compassion he had for others. Quickly, she opened the door to the kennel and scooped the little dog out. He licked his mistress’s face and snuggled quietly in her arms.
Slipping back into the kitchen, she appropriated some dried meat and hard biscuits from the crock in the pantry. Rags cuddled down in her arms. He didn’t bark, although he whined softly once.
Emma then went out the back door and took a circuitous route away from the townhouse, heading toward Cheapside. There was a clothing store that sometimes bought finery from the great houses, and a bookstore where she had often purchased paper, colors and books. It was patronized by students who frequently started things they could not seem to finish. Perhaps the proprietor would buy her books.
It was a terrifying journey from the townhouse to Cheapside. Emma slipped like a shadow down the streets, avoiding drunken revelers, panderers and tawdry, faded ladies who were trying to sell themselves. Would she end up like that? She hoped not.First I must get out of London, then perhaps somewhere that I am not known, I can find work. But I will not be sold off like a mare or a cow, especially not to the Earl of Cleweme.
