Page 53 of A Lady's Wager
“Do you happen to know how old Lady Charlotte is?” Franklin asked.
Julian shook his head even as he began to think out loud. “She is in London for the Season, and I’m reasonably certain this is her fourth.” It was all he could offer with confidence in the solving of the mystery. After all, he was not well acquainted with her, which made the matter of this wager all the more strange. “If this is her fourth Season, and this wager is centered on her twenty-first birthday, I suspect that is the very birthday she is about to mark.”
Julian knew he wasn’t thinking as clearly as he would prefer, though he wasn’t so sloshed as to be entirely without good judgement. “The year of her birth, I find, is of tremendous importance to me. £1000 important to me. Do you suppose there’s a copy of Debrett’s in the library here?” He motionedwith his head in the direction of the club’s extensive collection of volumes.
“One way to find out.”
The two of them made their way toward the library. A quick search revealed the very volume they were searching for. Lady Charlotte was daughter of the Earl of Tarrant, and his family would most certainly be listed inside.
Franklin read out loud even as Julian himself scanned the words. “Lady Charlotte, born the 6 of June in the year 1749.”
The two gentlemen slowly raised their gazes from the book and their eyes met each other’s. Franklin’s eyes were pulled wide. Julian’s were as well.
“She turns twenty-one in a month,” Julian said. “One month, and I do not recall seeing any announcements in theTimesregarding an engagement.”
“Neither do I,” Franklin said.
Julian scratched his hairline, the powder long since dried and settled and making his scalp itch a bit. Hair powdering was not optional when one wished to look clean and put together. The effort helped hide the true state of his financial situation.
“A courtship can prove successful, leading to an engagement and even a wedding within four weeks,” Julian acknowledged. “Though it would be a bit of a tight timeline, there’s every chance she could be married before the 6thof June. It’d be a helpful thing if we knew a little more about how close she might be to an engagement.”
“I do know Lady Charlotte, though vaguely,” Franklin said. “My family hasn’t the standing of hers—oryours.I am not always invited to the same gatherings your ilk are.”
“My ilk.” Julian shook his head, the impact of sherry rendering the movement a bit more clumsy than he would prefer. “People of ‘my ilk’ and of ‘my birth’ are not to beconfused. I hope I am a better sort of fella than those whose shoes I’m called on to fill.”
“Can’t entirely make sense of that mix of words,” Franklin said, “but if you’re trying to say you’re a decent fellow, I’ll agree to that.”
Julian blinked a few times, looking to focus his thoughts. “The betting book didn’t say who it was that placed the wager?”
Franklin shook his head slowly. “But the gentleman’s identity is recorded elsewhere.”
That did happen now and then—someone placing a bet wished for their identity to be anonymous, and that information was kept quite confidential by those who oversaw such things at the club. The wagerer would be made to pay, should the forfeit be required of him. And he would be required to payJulian.Pay him £1000. Such a sum would perhaps not go as far as it would have during his grandfather and great-grandfather’s day, but to Julian, the Lord Wesley of 1770, it still constituted a much-needed windfall.
“Have you heard this wager talked about amongst the gentlemen?” he asked his friend.
Franklin shook his head and lowered his voice just as Julian had. “Wasn’t made loudly or publicly, it seems. The placer of it must be watching to see if Lady Charlotte’s leading anyone into the parson’s mousetrap.”
“And likely making an effort to see to it that she does,” Julian acknowledged.
“The person placing it must know that you don’t know that you stand to win such a sum.”
Whoever the mystery gambler was must have also known Julian’s financial situation. It would explain why he chose him to be the recipient of this wager. The unknown wagerer felt, in some ways, like an angel of mercy. Except he was an angel whowas likely working quite hard to make certain he never had to pay the forfeit.
“It’s a shame we don’t know who the fellow is,” Franklin said. “We could make any of his efforts to win this wager a little bit more difficult.”
“We don’t know who the bettor is, but we know who he’s betting on.” An idea began to form in Julian’s head, one that, if not truly brilliant, was definitely risky. “We could pay a bit closer attention to what is happening in Lady Charlotte’s life. If we discover any suitors getting a bit too close to success for our comfort, we can slow down their progress a bit.”
“Would be unkind to spoil the lady’s chances,” Franklin objected.
“We don’t have to outright say, ‘Hey there, fellow, seems you ought to be sniffing out greener pastures.’ We can simply make nuisances of ourselves, should any gazes grow too warm or words turn too poetic between Lady Charlotte and some gentleman.”
“Nuisances?” Franklin looked increasingly committed to the idea that they had not fully formed yet.
“Nothing interferes with Cupid’s arrows quite as much as awkwardness.” Julian knew from experience, he having been remarkably awkward on more than one occasion in his time.
“We keep an eye on Lady Charlotte, and should things seem to be getting a bit romantic, we step up and offer an observation on indigestion or something?” Franklin looked a bit confused but still seemed every bit as determined to move forward.
“We can offer up whatever the moment requires,” Julian said, “without causing anyone actual distress or humiliation, of course.”
