Shrewsbury’s words lingered in Henry’s mind, coming back to him when he least expected. Had his father loved him? Despite his flaws and inadequacies and disappointments? Could Katie love him in spite of all of those?
“Your Grace?” one of the merchants said. “It’s your play.”
Henry hadn’t even been looking at his cards. They were a blur before him. He had no idea what he should do. He’d place a bet. The rush of taking a chance always hit him like a dose of opium. He lifted his marker and then another.
“Your Grace.”
Henry looked up, but none of the merchants had spoken.
“Your Grace? I’m sorry to interrupt.”
The merchants were turned toward the onlookers now, and Henry turned that way too. He squinted at the lad who spoke. He looked familiar.
“Her Grace is outside, waiting to speak to you.”
Henry knew the lad now. He was one of his manservants. Henry couldn’t remember his name—Edward or Edmund or something like that. “My mother is outside?” he asked.
“No, Your Grace. Your wife.”
Henry felt his blood run cold. All the thrill of the game faded away in a snap.
“Oh, ho! His wife comes to collect him,” one of the merchants said with a laugh.
Henry ignored the taunt. Katie couldn’t be here. She couldn’t see him like this. “Tell her to go home, Ezekiel.”
“It’s Ebenezer, Your Grace. I’m afraid she will not listen to me.”
“Then tell her I command her to go home.” Henry looked back at his cards. “Now then, I was about to make my wager.” He tossed his markers on the table.
Ebenezer withdrew.
*
Katie stood inthe alley, huddled under an overhang, and shivered as rain dripped around her. She had followed Ebenezer to the back doors of three inns, and now at the fourth she was beginning to despair of ever finding Carlisle. What if she’d been wrong and he wasn’t engaged in play but had been murdered on the road back to Carlisle Keep? What if he was injured, lying on the ground somewhere, bleeding?
The door opened and Ebenezer stepped out. “He’s inside, Your Grace.”
Katie felt a surge of relief. Carlisle was alive. He was right inside that door. Except Ebenezer looked…uneasy.
“What is it? Is he coming out?”
“Your Grace, he said…er, he told me to tell you to go home.”
Katie felt as though she’d been slapped in the face. She recoiled and felt the sting of tears. She considered turning around and doing exactly as Carlisle had suggested. Let him sit in there and gamble his life away. But her feet wouldn’t move, and, wet and cold as she was, she couldn’t walk away. She’d needed rescuing once, and now he needed her to repay the favor. She wouldn’t leave him.
Katie straightened her shoulders. “Show me to him.”
Ebenezer’s eyes went wide. “Your Grace, you can’t go inside. It’s no place for a lady.”
“Then you’d better stay by my side.” She gestured toward the door. “Lead the way.”
Ebenezer looked as though he might argue, then his shoulders sagged and he opened the door. He held it for Katie, who stepped into a dark, smoky corridor. She lowered the hood of her cape and followed Ebenezer as he stepped around broken pieces of plates and furnishings until they reached a door at the end of the corridor. She didn’t need to be told this was it. She could hear the men’s voices. There were feminine voices as well.
“Are you sure, Your Grace?” Ebenezer asked, hand on the latch.
Just then she heard Carlisle’s voice, and the sound of it shot straight into her heart. “Open it,” she said.
Ebenezer did as he was told, and the door swung open. Katie hadn’t known what to expect. She hadn’t expected the small, cramped room with a group of men and women circled around a table in the center. A haze of smoke hung just beneath the ceiling. A woman caught sight of her and moved aside. Her actions caused a man to glance behind him. He moved aside too, until there was an opening so she could see the table where the four men sat. Carlisle was straight across from her. He was looking down at his cards, and she could tell in an instant he was not drunk. But his color was high and his eyes, when they scanned the table, were bright and glassy. He was caught in the grip of the game.
