Chapter Eight
“What in the world?” Freya asked.
“The men are playing Hazard,” His Lordship confided. “Have you ever played, my lady?”
“Assuredly not,” she said with an aristocratic lift of her chin. “Such would never be considered in civilized society.”
He chuckled, and Freya wondered how he could remain so good-natured with all the sadness that he had known in life.
She wished her children to know such a man, not someone of her father’s nature, a man whose children feared him.
“I assure you, Lady Freya, the game is often played by gentlemen at gaming hells, and many people of society think the activity is a civilized way of passing time.”
“Are you claiming that game is acceptable in advanced culture?” she demanded.
“Are you always so argumentative, my lady?” he asked with a tilt of his head, as if he were studying her closely.
Freya’s chin notched higher. “Do you object to a woman’s opinions, my lord?”
“I do not,” he responded quickly, which indicated he had heard her question rather than simply her tone.
He changed the subject somewhat. “We do not have the luxury of time for me to teach you the game now, but I promise to do so while we are in Kent, though perhaps your uncle would object. He is a vicar. That is what you said. Correct me if I misunderstood.”
Freya wished to squeal in happiness, for Lord Graham had offered to spend time with her. Instead, she said, “I would be open to a lesson. Would the others be involved?”
He stood and reached a hand to her. “Perhaps. I imagine both Lady Orson, and, especially, Lady Beaufort would enjoy the game. In truth, Lady Beaufort likely played the game often. She had a most colorful upbringing. Miss Whitchurch is a vicar’s daughter, so, perhaps, she will decline, though in the book of Matthew, soldiers cast lots for Jesus’s tunic, while in Judges, Samson wagered thirty linen garments and thirty sets of clothes at his wedding feast that his thirty Philistine companions could not solve his riddle in seven days.
Of course, none of us would want Samson’s revenge for cheating, would we? ’
Freya knew amazement at the fullness of his education. She stood and placed her hand on his arm once again. They walked away together. She asked quietly, “Why do you defend the game?”
“Most believe,” he began as they exited the inn, “that those men who work with their hands each day to provide for their families do so because they lack intelligence, as well as motivation, to become someone better. One of my roles in the Home Office is to infiltrate the groups speaking out against the government. Many in Britain’s upper class believe such men illiterate, but we all must realize that those of the likes of Jacob Moreau and William Booth and John Yates came very close to flooding our streets with fake bank notes and shutting down our government, setting us back a century or more.
None of those men were considered part of society, but if they had not been so greedy, they could now be in King George’s palace and ruling over all of us.
” He paused before continuing, “Naturally, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but we came close to losing the glory of Britannia.”
“You believe strongly in these matters?” she asked more in awe than doubting his words. “You played a role in Lord Liverpool’s plans?”
“Lord Duncan’s plans,” he corrected. “Duncan had his section of the Home Office investigating Moreau and Yates long before Liverpool made his move to be the next Prime Minister. We began our investigations when Perceval was still in charge of the government.”
Freya was beginning to learn more of what to expect if she wished to be Lord Graham’s wife.
“Everything ready, Mr. Jamison?” His Lordship asked his driver.
“Yes, my lord. Lady Freya’s trunks are in the carriage on the opposing bench. We may place them on top once we rid ourselves of Her Ladyship’s attacker. The nearest constable is some three miles removed on the other side of the river.”
“Very good, Jamison.” His Lordship turned to brace Freya on the coach’s steps. “Did the innkeeper send you out a meal?”
“He did, my lord. Fine meat pie.” The driver smiled easily. “Thank you for your consideration.”
Freya had never heard her father’s coachman offer words of gratitude for anything Lord Iain Cunningham had ever executed for his servant’s benefit, for true benevolence was not part of her father’s make up.
Once they were settled inside the coach, she made herself ask, “Tell me what you started to say when we exited the inn. Explain how playing the game of Hazard is an indication of a man’s intelligence.”
His Lordship chuckled. “I did not mean to say all who play the game are intelligent, just those who play it well.” Freya noticed how he adjusted his position on the bench seat as the coach began to roll from the inn yard.
“There is a science in playing any game or sport.
A man who practices fisticuffs must know more than how to punch someone to be successful at his art.
Otherwise, he is merely another brawler.
“When it comes to Hazard, the odds of winning never change. The odds of rolling each number, which is called the ‘main,’ meaning a number between five and nine, is six chances in six and thirty throws. Each number has a different odd of winning.” He looked to her and shook his head gently.
“I will teach you, and it will be perfectly clear. I promise, and I am not saying that because you are a woman. It is just easier to teach someone the game when holding the dice in one’s hand. ”
Freya knew he frowned, though she could not fully make out his features in the moonlit carriage. “I look forward to the lesson,” she said, “and I would be grateful to spend more time with you, my lord.”
“Will you truly, Lady Freya?” he asked softly into the quiet comfortableness that had fallen between them.
They remained silent within the darkness of the coach for several minutes before she said, “I noticed that Lady Beaufort rarely speaks of Lady Marksman. Lady Orson seems closer to Lord Duncan’s daughter than to the others.
Even Miss Whitchurch has only mentioned the lady in regards to Lady Theodora’s marriage to Lady Annalise’s brother.
In truth, I have never met the young woman.
I am just wondering what I should expect. ”
His Lordship shifted his weight slightly away from Freya, and she wondered if she had finally overstepped the friendly conversations they two had shared previously.
At last, Lord Graham cleared his throat.
“All of us Duncan brothers adore Lady Theodora, but that does not mean she does not make mistakes. Several occurred between her and Lady Annalise. Dora is two years younger than the others, and she has led a more sheltered life. After her mother’s death, she became Lord Duncan’s whole world, and, for those who grew up in His Lordship’s house, our world, as well.
When Marksman first encountered Lady Annalise, like Beaufort, Marksman was also attracted to the young lady, but for very different reasons.
Once Marksman learned that Miss Audrey Moreau was actually his missing sister, he was more than a bit obsessed with the idea of protecting the lady. ”
“Naturally,” Freya said.
“Yet the United Kingdom was investigating Miss Moreau’s supposed uncle, and we all were sworn to secrecy.
Marksman was not permitted to tell her of their relationship for several weeks, which drove him a bit crazy.
Lady Theodora was jealous of Marksman’s constant worry for Miss Moreau, and our Dora said and did some things that harmed Lady Annalise. Eventually, it will be forgiven, but…”
“Imelda and I rarely agree on things,” she admitted.
“My sister is a product of my father’s strict hand on his family.
Unfortunately, I am more of my Aunt Felicity’s nature.
I hope you will take her acquaintance while we are in Kent.
My mother attempts to protect me, but there is only so much she can do.
She failed to present my father with an heir.
He would not care if we all disappeared and he could start again.
It is terrible for all of us, even for my father.
” They sat in silence for several minutes while they each digested what she had said.
At length, Freya added, “Thank you for trusting me, my lord. I shan’t repeat to the others any of what you have shared. ”
They were again quiet as they continued on towards their destinations in Kent.
Aaran had not expected to share something so personal and so all-encompassing with Lady Freya.
What she had admitted about her family was not necessarily eye-opening, but it did provide him a bit more clarity regarding Cunningham.
They were both outsiders in their own families.
Both of them never fitting in, even with those they loved.
How was he to control his attraction to this particular woman now that he knew they were likely meant for each other?
It had been many months since that early September day when he had stopped to assist a man for whom he held nothing but repulsion and since his world had been turned upon its proverbial head.
The companionable silence that had fallen between him and the lady had Aaran considering committing what could only prove to be catastrophic for both of them.
He wanted her, as he had never wanted another.
Yet, the road to claiming the lady was as steep as many of Scotland’s mountaintops.
He knew without a doubt he could not, in good conscience, permit her to return to her father’s house and be forced to marry Sir Patrick Hodge.
Yet, Aaran had no right to prevent the marriage, though he felt himself worrying over her future.