Page 121 of A Gentleman's Wager

“I do not ask you to like it, only to do as bidden. Please begin. Now, you will also explain that you have been forced to close her accounts here until she makes sufficient funds over to you to cover the losses, and that sadly, you will be unable to discuss the matter with her in person, as you are making a long overdue visit to relatives in Scotland.”

“I have no such—”

“Nevertheless.”

Pryce scribbled down the letter in his typical spidery scrawl. Once done, he turned it for the intruder to read, then sickeningly added his signature to the bottom. The Stanleys had always been good to him. Loyal. Keeping their money with him even when the larger banks had tried to force him to sell up.

The man sanded, and then folded his letter, had him seal it and address it to Miss Stanley at Lauwine Hall.

“Now Mr Pryce, as I cannot rely on you to take yourself to Scotland for a month, you will kindly accompany me.”

-66-

Lucerne

“You’re going to see him kill me!”

Lucerne sighed as Charles dramatically prostrated himself upon the carpet. Such theatrics had become routine since Vaughan’s curious disappearance earlier in the week. He’d left without saying goodbye, and with barely any of his possessions. That was a reassurance of sorts, but Lucerne still struggled to master his agitation. Lauwine felt empty without Vaughan. Too often over the last few days he’d found himself wandering—searching for Vaughan about the place—without realising that’s what he was doing until it occurred to him his friend… his lover was no longer present.

“Please, I beg you—”

Lucerne experienced a brief pang of guilt. Charles was frightfully dishevelled and clearly half out of his wits with fear, but he refused to be drawn into the matter. He had asked some time back what had possessed the man to make such a wager and found Charles’s answer—a perambulatory and rather confusing ramble about playing cards, or rather the lack of—entirely inadequate as an explanation. It certainly didn’t hold as a defence.

“He said Saturday, and that day is here.” Charles muttered into the carpet. “Take pity, he could appear at any moment. You can see I haven’t the funds.” Indeed, he had upended his purse over Lucerne’s desktop only moments before. “I’ve done my very best, sold some things in the village, called on some favours, but it’s not enough.”

“He’s quite right, there’s only just over forty guineas here.” Bella had helpfully sorted the coinage into gleaming stacks.

“I’m going to be skewered,” Charles wailed. He made a thrusting motion with one fist, which, given he was face down, gave him the appearance of a semi-squashed frog.

Lucerne tucked his feet out of the way, recalling that Charles had attached himself to his leg for an uncomfortable ten minutes the previous day. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that part of him dearly wanted Vaughan to appear this minute in all his merciless glory and to rain down his judgement, for then Charles would stop waging his endless assault upon Lucerne’s ears.

Dammit, his head felt as if it were sliced open, and he couldn’t even blame the demon drink for it. He’d not touched a drop. Perhaps sobriety was the biggest mistake he’d made here, and he ought to have dealt with the whole drama by downing his own body weight in rum.

“Charles, you know, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Vaughan from all our years of friendship, it’s that his reputation is considerably more sinister than reality. It is hardly likely he’ll go so far as killing you over a measly sixty guineas. Come now, up off the floor. Let’s see if you can’t muster some bottom.” He bent and assisted Charles up as far as his knees.

“You’re sure he won’t—”

“Is it true,” Bella interjected, “that Pennerley once repaid a fellow for a slight by deliberately shooting him in the kneecap?”

Lucerne shot her a withering glare. Did she have to? Naturally, the answer was yes, as evidenced by the sweet smile she returned. She was enjoying this ridiculous charade.

Charles wailed, and promptly collapsed into a blubbering heap.

“For heaven’s sake, I don’t know if that’s true. It seems unlikely, but if you’re really so concerned by the possibility of him maiming you, then why the devil are you still here?”

“Begad Lucerne, have a heart. No, wait—” Charles scratched his ruddy brow. “Are you suggesting I runaway.”

“It seems a viable option.”

“Aye.” Charles took out his pocket handkerchief and mopped it over his face, his expression thoughtful “Aye, it does.” He clambered to his feet. “Although, where would I go? We’re out in the wilds!”

“Hardly,” Bella remarked. “Reeth village is only a few miles down the lane.”

“Yes, but Pennerley’s no mumphead. He’d go there at once and check every inn. What’s to say he’s not already there?” While he chewed over that possibility like a dog with a piece of gristle, Lucerne poured himself a drink. There was only claret on the sideboard, which was far from the best choice considering his already tender head, but—

“You could go to Wyndfell,” Bella said.

Both he and Charles turned to stare at her. Charles in wonder, Lucerne in perplexity.