The Gamble by Joan Wolf

of those men are going to feel safe until they have the incriminating papers in their own hands.”
    I had never thought of that. I bit my lip. “But I don’t have the incriminating papers anymore. I burned them.”
    “Not a brilliant move, Miss Newbury,” he said sarcastically. “Not a brilliant move at all.”
    I said furiously, “So I made a mistake. I’m sorry if I don’t have much practice at blackmailing.”
    “Really? I have found you to be remarkably gifted,” he replied suavely.
    I glared at him but didn’t answer. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could say.
    He took note of my obvious frustration and said with hateful satire, “Ah, but you are not doing it for yourself, are you? You are only concerned for your little sister.”
    He began to walk Isabelle forward, and Cato followed without my even asking him. I seethed in silence.
    Finally Lord Winterdale said, “Who are the other men on your father’s infamous list?”
    I glanced at him and didn’t answer.
    “You had better tell me,” The hard, ironic tone I so disliked was very evident in his voice. “After all, I am your guardian and consequently am supposed to be in charge of your welfare.”
    “You are not my guardian, my lord, and we both know it,” I returned emphatically.
    He lifted those reckless eyebrows. “Then what am I, Miss Newbury?”
    I could feel a flush stain my cheeks. “Well, I suppose you are my pretend-guardian,” I muttered.
    He looked at me as if I were two years old. “Then, as your pretend-guardian, I think you ought to tell me the names of those men.”
    “Oh very well,” I said a little sulkily. “Besides Mr. Asherton there was Sir Henry Farringdon.”
    He gave me a surprised look. “I did not know that Farringdon gambled.”
    I said reluctantly, “I believe it was more a matter of a . . . ah friend . . . that Lord Henry did not want his wife to know about.”
    “Sophie Henry,” came the instant reply. “Of course. Poor Farringdon was afraid his wife would find out about Sophie and then her father would cut off his funds.”
    “How did you know this Sophie Henry’s name?” I demanded suspiciously.
    “Oh, Sophie has been about the town for years,” came the easy reply. “She used to be a diamond of the first water, but she’s come down a bit lately. Farringdon doesn’t have the money that her earlier protectors had, but he kept her in a certain style. The fact that he was keeping her on his wife’s money would probably have caused his father-in-law to cut off his allowance. I can see where Farringdon would prefer to pay up than to have that happen.”
    It was not at all proper for Lord Winterdale to be discussing the ladies of the demimonde with me, but I was aware that our relationship was not precisely the ordinary one of gentleman to lady. I decided that, under the circumstances, it would be somewhat hypocritical of me to protest.
    I said instead, “The next one of Papa’s victims was Mr. Charles Howard.”
    He scowled. “Charlie Howard? I knew he was a gambler, and a weak fool to boot, but I hadn’t thought it was as bad as that.”
    “Yes. He wrote Papa a number of truly pitiful letters, but I am afraid that Papa was not moved. He squeezed him for almost thirty thousand pounds.”
    “Howard could not possibly afford to pay thirty thousand pounds.”
    “He wrote to Papa that he was going to have to get the money from a moneylender.”
    The branches overhead rustled in the breeze. The air smelled of grass and trees, and the daffodils and daisies and cowslips and buttercups that waved in the grass along the lake were as sunny as the morning.
    Lord Winterdale said, “Miss Newbury, allow me to tell you that your estimable father was a scoundrel.”
    I sighed mournfully. “I am afraid that he was.”
    We were approaching the end of the lake. “And who was the last recipient of his tender mercies?” Lord Winterdale asked me a trifle grimly.
    “The Earl of Marsh,” I said.
    Silence.