The Double Wager

"Yes," she said, and for once was lost for words. The blood was hammering in her head as she tried to remove the ringless hand from his grasp without jerking it away and attracting undue attention.

"Where is your ring?" he asked, and Henry let her hand fall limp in his.

"What ring?" she asked, looking up at him and flushing, furious at her own response.

His lazy blue eves looked into hers and the lids dropped farther met their. "Your mother's sapphire, I mean, Henry," he said softly. "Where is it?"

"Oh, that ring!" she said with false brightness. "I took it off tonight. It did not match my outfit, you see."

She looked down into the pit again and smiled briefly at a gallant who had a quizzing glass directed her way. She could feel her husband's glance boring into her. "A sapphire ring does not suit the turquoise of your dress?" he said. "Henry, my love, you must be color-blind."

She did not reply.

"Have you lost it?" he persisted.

"Oh, no," she said with a trifling laugh that sounded false even to her own ears. I remember now. I took it to a jeweler's to have the setting checked. It has never been checked, you know, and I have been afraid that the stone might fall out. I should be dreadfully upset. you know, if I lost it. It is the only memento I have of Mama. I hate to be without it for a while, but it seemed-"

"Hush, my love," Eversleigh said gently, clasping more warmly the hand that he still held, "the orchestra is about to begin playing."

Henry felt her heart gradually slowing to a normal beat as she tried to concentrate on the overture that the orchestra was playing. But she was uncomfortably aware for some time that her husband was still looking at her.

The usual court of young men came to pay their respects to Henry during the first intermission. Eversleigh stayed with her until his cousin, Althea Lambert, with an escort, arrived to visit. Then he strolled away, leaving the young people to their own chatter.

Only a few minutes had passed before Oliver Cransh~we appeared in the box. Henry was aghast; she had not thought he would have the nerve. Perhaps he had not yet received her letter and the money, she thought.

"Althea," he drawled after bending low over Henry's hand and kissing it, "how delightful to see you. Er, I do believe Lady Melrose was looking for you a moment ago. Something about a rout, I believe?"

"Oh, that will be her Venetian breakfast," Althea said, brightening visibly. "Yes, indeed, she did suggest that I

be a hostess with her daughter. Come, Mr. Rawlings, let us go to her at once."

Mr. Rawlings dutifully led his charge away and Henry was momentarily alone with Cranshawe. The other three men in the box were deep in conversation about a horse race that was to be run the following afternoon.

"Did you receive my package, sir?" Henry asked frostily, deciding that it would be best to go on the attack.

"Yes, indeed, cousin," he said, giving her the full benefit of his most charming smile. "How delightful to know that you have come about so soon."

"Yes, well, I told you I should pay you back as soon as I was able," she said.

"I wonder how you managed quite so soon, though, Henry," he said. I hope you have not lost your trust in our friendship and put yourself in debt to someone else."

"That is none of your concern, sir," she said spiritedly. "All that concerns you is that you have recovered the full sum that you loaned to me."

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh yes, almost," he said. "I shall not press for the remainder, of course, but then I did assure you that there was no haste for you to repay the principal."

"The remainder?" Henry asked faintly.

He looked puzzled. "But I have lost money while the three thousand was in your possession," he explained. A must, of course, recover the interest. But I do not wish you to worry your pretty little head over it, Henry. There is no hurry at all. In fact, I should be quite willing to take the loss if you would care to repay me in, er, some other way.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

He smiled directly into her eyes as he answered. "A night with you, Henry."

Henry's mouth dropped open. "Where?" she asked naively.

The smile broadened. "In bed, obviously, my dear."

Henry was saved from the ignominy of being seen to jump to her feet and smack the face of Mr. Cranshawe in that appallingly public setting. As she was about to respond to the impulse, she was aware of Eversleigh stepping back into the box. His eyes found her face immediately and took in its expression. His eyelids drooped over his eyes as he strolled forward.

"Ah, Oliver, dear boy," he said languidly, "you are becoming quite the stranger these days. It seems quite a while since you invited yourself to breakfast last."

"I have the distinct impression that I was not welcome the last time I came, Marius," said Cranshawe, an edge to his voice.

Eversleigh raised his quizzing glass and surveyed his heir unhurriedly through it. "Indeed?" he said. "What can have given you that impression? Ridley was there, was he not? I ca

"You are too kind, cousin," Cranshawe said through his teeth.

"Not at all, not at all, dear fellow," said Eversleigh. "You must give me the honor of your company as well as my wife, you know. In fact, dear boy, I must insist that you a

"The second act is about to begin," Cranshawe mumbled, getting to his feet and bowing stiffly. "Your Grace?"~

Henry nodded, but she did not look up. The ether 0 three gentlemen also crowded around to make their farewells.

As Henry turned her chair to face the stage again, Eversleigh took her hand and laid it on his sleeve.

"I wish to leave," she said, eyes riveted to the stage. "Please take me home, Marius."

"No, my love," he replied gently. "We must be seen to sit here in amicable agreement."

His words hummed in Henry's mind as the music and singing washed over her. What had he meant? Was there already talk about her and Oliver Cranshawe? Was Marius trying to avert it?

****

The Duke of Eversleigh walked into his secretary's office the next morning before luncheon. He was still clad in riding clothes.

"Ah, James," he said, "bow predictable you are, dear fellow. One can always depend upon finding you here."

"Well, you do pay me to work here during the daytime, your Grace," Ridley replied patiently.

"Quite so, dear boy," Eversleigh agreed, "though I seem to remember giving you an assignment yesterday that should have had you up and abroad."

"I have already done my best on that mission," his secretary replied, "and devilish difficult it was too, sir, if you will excuse me for saying so."

"Oh, surely, James," the duke replied, waving a hand airily in his direction. "And what did you discover?"

"I can find no trace of any debt incurred by her Grace that has not been sent here," Ridley said.

Eversleigh regarded him thoughtfully. Hmm, he said. "Are you sure your information is complete, James?"

Ridley shrugged. "I talked to the persons most likely to know about any gambling debts," he said.

"My wife is missing a ring that she almost never removes from her finger," Eversleigh said almost to himself, strolling over to take up a stand in his favorite spot, one elbow propping him against a bookshelf.

"Pawned perhaps, your Grace?"

"I think not," his employer replied. "I have visited all the most likely jewelers this morning, and none of them knows of it. No, James, I believe it must have been pledged for a large sum."