“He’s old enough.” And she knew he wasn’t put off by her birthmark. He never looked at her sideways or refused to meet her eyes. “I need a young man who won’t mind walking all the way to the village.”
And so an hour later, she and Ebenezer set off in the drizzle and fog. Katie was glad of her cape and pulled the hood close around her face. The donkey was good-natured, and though she was still nervous being on her back, she tried not to show it. Ebenezer walked beside her and whistled as though the weather and the walk didn’t bother him.
“You seem quite happy to be out in the rain and cold,” she remarked after a couple of miles.
“I was born in the country, Your Grace. I prefer it to the city.”
“Why did you go to work in London, then?”
“My parents have nine children. They couldn’t feed us all, so some of us had to make our own way.”
It wasn’t an unusual tale, and Ebenezer had been lucky to find employment with the Duke of Carlisle. “Have you ever been to the village, Ebenezer?” she asked.
“I went on my day off,” he admitted. “Just to look around a bit.”
“And when you were looking around, did you happen to note where there might be gaming establishments?”
“Pardon?”
“Places where men might gamble.”
“Er…”
“It’s all right. I won’t be angry. I need to find those places.”
Ebenezer stopped and shook his head. “Oh, no, Your Grace. That’s no place for a lady.”
“I’m sure it’s not, but the duke is in one of those places, and you and I need to bring him home.”
*
Henry wasn’t drunk.He’d had a glass or seven of sherry, but those had been over hours or possibly days. Time seemed to run together here. So he wasn’t drunk—not on spirits. But he was drunk on the game. He’d been winning and then he’d been losing, and then he’d won it all back and lost some of it again, and now he was up again.
His eyes burned and his head pounded. His hands shook, but he ignored all of it and stared at his cards. A group of men clustered around the table where he played with some of the local merchants. Henry wasn’t certain if these were the same men or if they came and went. He wasn’t paying attention. He knew he’d been here too long. He knew Katie would be worried about him.
And yet he couldn’t seem to make himself get up and leave.
He told himself he should leave now. He was ahead. He should take his winnings and go. He’d told himself that before when he’d been up.
And yet here he sat. As always.
If he went home now, he’d have to tell her where he’d been and what he’d been doing. Well, he didn’t have to tell her. He was a man. He didn’t have to tell her anything.
But she’d know. She was clever, and she’d see through any story he told.
No matter what he said, he would see in her eyes that she knew. She wouldn’t look at him the way she always did. The admiration and respect and, yes, love would fade. Sometimes hewishedit would fade. He found it hard to look at her when she gazed at him with that love in her eyes. He didn’t deserve it. Because he’d known, at some point, he would find himself back here again.
He’d known it when he left that day on the pretext of recruiting new tenants. He’d been itching for days to feel a pack of cards between his fingers. He’d felt it most keenly after he received the letters from King and Rory. He’d wanted, desperately, for them to tell him he was completely daft. There was no witch and no curse.
But they’d done the opposite, and their confirmation of what he’d seen, what he knew, terrified him. Even before their letters arrived, he’d been on edge. He was overwhelmed by the obligations thrust upon him, out of his depth, trying desperately to learn as much about farming and land management as he could. He had to make something of his ducal land, else he and Katie and all of those depending on him would starve.
He found release with Katie. When he buried himself inside her, felt her arms around him, her legs pulling him closer, the world went away. But then her eyes would show him how muchshe loved him, or she would whisper it or say it with the way she touched him, kissed him, rode him.
And he’d think about how he’d lost everything before, and how he’d do it again, and how she’d hate him then.
So Henry couldn’t go home. Because he didn’t want to see the way his wife would look at him. He didn’t want to see the same disappointment in her eyes he’d always seen in his father’s.
I’d make it my mission to ruin what he loved best. You.
