The Double Wager

When Henry came down again, five minutes later, clutching a mewing kitten in one arm, face smudged with dirt, hemline of her habit hanging down, it was to find Marius directly beneath her, on foot.

"Hand down the kitten, Henry," he ordered, and she obeyed before she had time to think of defiance. He took it and handed it immediately to an eager Penelope. Then lie turned back, raised his arms, and grasped his wife by the waist. He swung her down to the ground, so that her body slid down the length of his. She felt physically ill as she glared indignantly up into his gleaming eyes.

"I could have jumped," she said as Philip did just that right behind her.

"I don't doubt it for a moment, my love," Eversleigh agreed soothingly, the gleam in his eyes deepening. "I must look a fright," she said crossly.

"I think you look rather charming, my love, with it smudge on your nose and a twig in your hair," he commented languidly.

"Oh!" she said. "Well, you should be thankful for the twig, your Grace. At least I am not committing that mortal. sin of going hatless again."

"Your Grace!" Penelope was plucking at Eversleigh's sleeve, interrupting an interesting scene. "Please may we keep the kitten? I am sure the little thing is a stray, and Phil and I will look after it. Please!"

"Well," he said, "it would seem hardly charitable to rescue the poor thing from one danger only to let it starve on firm ground. Very well, Pe

"Oh, thank you, your Grace," Penelope yelled. "I am going to call her Cleopatra."

Eversleigh blinked. "As you will," he said tolerantly, "but I fail to see the co

Henry could feel the imprint of his hands all the way home as they rode side by side, making small talk. He made no reference to the fact that she had obviously been' with Oliver Cranshawe before the family farce had begun.

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The morning's activities were not forgotten by any of the actors in it. Henry spent most of the afternoon in her room, after canceling plans she had made to do a round of visiting. She had a very serious decision to make, and although she knew what that decision would have to be, there still seemed to be a great deal of thinking to do.

She had met Oliver in the park and had talked with him for five minutes before the arrival of the twins and Miss Manford on the scene. Oliver had taken on the tone of his letter, profoundly apologetic, disclaiming all responsibility for what he had said the night before on the grounds that he had drunk too much. But Henry had lost all faith in his words. He claimed to care for her deeply, to be worried about her marriage to "a man like Marius." He wished to see her again, alone, so that he might redeem himself in her eyes. Henry could see only the truth. Here was a man who hated her husband and who hated her for being the chief threat to his position as Marius' heir. He wished to ruin her so that Marius would divorce her or at the very least send her away. Either would suit Oliver's purposes. In either case, there would be no children to succeed the Duke of Eversleigh. And Henry, with childish naivete, had played right into his hands. Oh, why had she not seen through the hypocrisy of his charm? Why had she not gone straight to Marius with her worries over Giles?

Henry threw herself facedown across the bed. She racked her brain for some solution to the dilemma, apart from the one that she was trying not to face. She had managed to escape any commitment this morning, thanks to the strange appearance of the twins. And that was strange, now that site came to think of it. What were they all doing in the park at that time of the morning? Were they not usually at their classes? However it had happened, she had been very grateful for the distraction. But she did not have any hope that Cranshawe would be put off for long. It was only a matter of time before he again forced her into a clandestine meeting.

Henry considered talking to Giles, but she knew she would not be able to bring herself to destroy his peace of mind. She saw him frequently, and he seemed to be quite happy. He did the social rounds, but it seemed to her that he had learned his lesson. He no longer associated with the crowd of wild dandies that had led him into gambling and irresponsible spending. If be was in debt again, she would be surprised.At least there was no sign from him. He treated her with open affection. Henry had been close to her brother all her life. She would have known if something were troubling him. No, she could not go to him with her dilemma.

There was, in fact, only one way out, Henry admitted tp herself with a sigh. She propped her chin on her hands and stared gloomily down at the brocade coverlet of her bed. Somehow, she had to get the money to repay the loan to Cranshawe. Only then would she be free of that horrid man. And there was, alas, only one way to get the money, unless she applied to Marius for it. Since she would rather die than go to him now, she would have to go to a moneylender.

The very thought filled her with terror. She had heard many stories of the fate of young men who were unwise enough to get into the clutches of moneylenders. (It seemed that ladies never went to them.) The story was that once a man borrowed money, he never repaid it. All the money he could scrape together went toward paying off the crippling interest on their loans.

But Henry had to put these stories behind her. She really had no choice, unless she sold or pawned some of her jewels. She had considered doing that, but knew that any valuable item that she possessed would soon be missed. Marius, unlike many husbands, accompanied her to most evening functions. And he always noticed what she wore. He would frequently suggest the jewelry that would best complement her choice of clothes. She knew she would not be able to deceive him. No, she must go to a moneylender. She remembered the name and direction of the one that Giles had been pla

Henry scrambled resolutely off the bed. Since there was no alternative and since she had made up her mind, there was nothing to be gained by delay. She would go at once. She assumed that Marius was away from home at this time of day. She was sure that the twins must be in the schoolroom, especially after their escapade of the morning. She could accomplish her errand without anyone knowing.

She searched her closet hastily for the dullest clothing she possessed. Pushed far to one side she found a drab, gray cloak that she had worn for years at Roedean. She could not imagine how it had escaped the purge that Betty had made on her old clothes. She pulled it from its place and chose the plainest bo

Henry glanced at herself in the mirror before leaving the room. She wrinkled her nose in some disgust at the very unpretty picture that she made, draped entirely in the gray and brown. She pushed an auburn curl farther under the brim of the bo