Knave's Wager

Lilith turned towards the sound. A small, thin man was running at them. She blinked. Harris? But this filthy, wet creature, his cap a sodden lump upon his head, could not be Cecily’s groom. He stumbled to a stop before her.

“Oh, missus,” he gasped. “Thank God I found you—”

There was a buzzing in her ears, and an odd, numb feeling in her spine. Lilith clutched Julian’s arm for support as the world about her glared yellow, then faded to black.

Lilith opened her eyes to anxious green ones. A warm, strong hand held hers.

“Do you mean to remain with us this time?” Julian asked.

“I—I fainted, didn’t I?”

“Repeatedly. We’ve had a confounded time bringing you round.”

A pillow supported her head, but the settle she lay upon was narrow and hard. Gingerly, Lilith began to pull herself up to a sitting position. He released her hand to help her. Then he did not take it again.

“I should give your groom a sound thrashing,” he said. “I can’t imagine what he was thinking of, to spring at you in that outrageous way. I’ve never beheld so hideous a spectacle—and stinking to high heaven as well. No wonder you swooned.”

“It was Harris,’’ she gasped. “Is it about Cecily? Is she hurt?”

“Cecily is perfectly well. You may be quite easy. We’ve been off on a precious wild goose chase. The girl never left London.”

“Never left?” she echoed weakly.

“Never left, never eloped. It was all a hum.” Julian rose from his chair. “I mean to say, it was a misunderstanding. From what Harris babbled, I gather Robert intended to run away with her, but your niece must have developed qualms at the last minute. She must have sneaked back after we’d gone.”

He’d not much else to tell her. Harris was exhausted, having ridden hard since early morning. In any case, the groom had not been given many details.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lilith said as the news truly penetrated and relief washed over her. “So long as she’s safe at home. I should have known. I should have trusted her. She has far too much sense to do such a thing. I wish I’d been more confident at the start. I might have spared you—”

“Not at all. I told you I’d keep an eye on Robert, and I failed you. Naturally, I must have gone after him, regardless your confidence in your niece. I only regret that several hours must pass before I can wring his neck.” He moved to the door. “I shall order a large dinner, which we may consume at our leisure. Then, we have but to return you discreetly in the dead of night, bribe Harris to hold his tongue, and all is well with the world.”

“Yes,” she said. No, she thought. Nothing would ever be altogether well again.

Considering he’d expected to be murdered, Lord Robert ought to have been grateful his cousin merely threw him against the library wall and half throttled him before turning away in disgust.

Lord Robert was relieved to escape with so negligible a physical punishment. He was not, however, sufficiently appreciative to keep silent.

“Go home?” he bleated, rubbing his aching throat. “You can’t send me home. You haven’t any authority over me, Julian.”

“Don’t test my patience, cousin. That commodity is in short supply at present.”

“I’m not going home. Cecily needs me. I’m not going anywhere without her. We’re going to be married—I don’t care what anyone says. She doesn’t care, either.”

Julian poured himself a glass of wine.

“In that you are sadly mistaken,” he answered, “Or lamentably ignorant. I’m afraid you don’t understand precisely the sort of predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He dropped his weary body into a large overstuffed chair, sipped his wine, leaned back, and proceeded to explain Robert’s predicament in numbing detail.

When the marquess was done, Robert stumbled to the chair opposite and fell into it.

“Twenty-five thousand pounds,” he said dazedly. “Breach of promise. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.” He turned a pleading countenance to his cousin. “She can’t, Julian. She’ll ruin everything. I could never marry Cecily. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Naturally not. Her family wouldn’t let you. In fact, if you have any feeling for her, you’ll not venture into Miss Glenwood’s general vicinity. I warned you the sort of scenes you might expect from your discarded mistress.”

“But Julian, there has to be some way. Surely if you talked to Elise. Gad, give her what she wants—the whole trust fund.”

“She wants a title or revenge, the latter in the form of a scandalous, expensive, interminable, but eventually highly profitable lawsuit.”

“I won’t marry her. I can’t believe I ever thought I loved her, when all this time she’s only been planning how to ruin me.”

“Yes, you were a great help to her in that.”

Robert groaned. “How could I have been so stupid-—stupid, stupid, stupid, and blind? Gad, I wish you had killed me. What am I going to do?”

The marquess stared into his wineglass. After a moment, he asked, “Are you quite certain you wish to marry Miss Glenwood? Are you positive you’re truly in love with the girl?”

Robert’s sinking head shot up. “How can you ask?” he demanded indignantly. “I adore her. I’ve been crazy about her since the moment I met her.”

“You never mentioned it.”

The younger man squirmed. “I didn’t realise at first. I only thought of her as a... well, a friend, I suppose. Then, when I finally figured it out, I did come to you. Don’t you remember? That day when I told you about the curricle?”

Julian only stared at him.

“I tried after that, but you were never home. Or when you were, you stayed locked in your room, or in the library, or somewhere. And you just ignored me, even when I pounded on the door. Or you told me to go to blazes. Well, it was obvious enough what your—” He caught himself up short. “That is to say, a man has to deal with his own problems. You’re not my nurse, as you’ve told me a hundred times.”

“Indeed. You’ve dealt with your problem marvelously, I see.”

“I never pretended to be as clever as you,” Robert shot back angrily. “You can sneer if you like. You don’t know what it is to be half crazy about a girl—while everyone else makes it completely hopeless for you. It’s all right if you go into the ugliest sulk there ever was and treat me like a pesky infant. But I’m not. I’m a grown man. I’m sorry I’m not as wise and blasé as you—but I couldn’t just sit down to a card game and brandy and forget. I had to do something.”

“So you did,” was the dispassionate answer. “What amazes me is Miss Glenwood’s consenting to such a hare-brained plan.”

“Well, it was her—that is to say, I had a devil of a time persuading her.”

Julian eyed him consideringly. “Why, I wonder, do I suspect it was the other way round?”

Robert squirmed again. “What nonsense.”

“Naturally, you will not betray your beloved,” said the other with a sardonic smile. “I know you’re lying to me. Still, she is your beloved, evidently.” He stood up. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Now?” Robert shrieked.

“There’s no need to agitate yourself, cousin. You and Miss Glenwood have made your point. Attention has been called to your plight—though I’m not certain what you think Nurse can do with this unmitigated disaster. Really, Robin, you have quite the knack. Thank heaven you never went for the military. England could not possibly have withstood the blow.”

With that, he left the room.

***

The sun shone brightly in the neat, tiny parlour. Its beams shot through the sparkling decanter, turning the wine to a glowing garnet. Elise handed her guest his glass.

“A toast,” Lord Brandon said, touching his goblet lightly to hers, “to your victory, mademoiselle.”

Her fine, dark eyebrows rose a fraction.

“Our wager,” he explained. “You’ve won. I congratulate

you.”

“You are precipitate, milord. More than a week remains to you,” she answered cautiously.

“By that time, I shall be gone,” he said. He moved to the plain, shabby mantel to examine the two small silhouettes displayed there. The profiles—one of Robert, one of Elise— faced opposite directions. “To Paris,” he added after a moment.

“Ah, the pursuit palls. You are bored.”

“No, I’ve failed. You chose your champion well.”

“I had no doubt of that.”

He turned back to her. “I agreed to cease troubling you on Robert’s account and honour demands I abide by our terms. On the other hand, honour demands I do no injury to innocent persons. If I keep silent, I do such an injury.”

“English honour,” she said. “Such difficulties it makes.”

“I think you are aware of this particular difficulty,” he said quietly. “You know Robert wishes to marry a certain young lady. You know, then, you can’t keep him. That you can make trouble for him I won’t deny. His future is in your hands. Perhaps that’s no more than he deserves. All the same, the young lady—”

“Yes, the young lady who has destroyed my future, milord. Do you come to plead on her behalf? Do you think to soften my heart towards my rival?”