She left Bridget and made her way to the side parlor. It was like stepping into another world. The rest of the house was brightly lit and crowded, filled with noise. The side parlor was done up in dark reds and dimly lit. It was smaller as well, so that the eight men inside seemed to dominate it.
Regina knew all of the men assembled. Lord Harrison was standing off to the side and was the only man she knew by name only. The others she knew both in personality and reputation.
Father was seated at the table with three others. The ones on either side of him were rather young men, a Mr. Charleston and a Mr. Denny. Both looked rather crestfallen.
The one seated directly across from Father—he made her heart sink. Her headache fled completely to be replaced by an awful coldness in her gut.
It was Lord Pettifer.
The man had proposed to Bridget a couple of years ago. He’d only known her for ten days. Bridget had turned him down and he’d called her the most awful names for it.
Natalie had told Regina later on that the man was a terrible rake. He was rumored to have left the daughter of a groundskeeper in the family way up north. He was certainly an unashamed gambler. Unlike most men who pretended they bet only a little—even when they bet a lot—Lord Pettifer boasted of how much he had staked and won.
Lord Pettifer had reason to boast, apparently. He was a veritable card shark. Or so Natalie had told her.
And now he was facing off against Father. Father, who was an awful gambler and had taken up cards as a way to get over his wife’s death.
Regina felt a hand at her elbow and looked up into the blue eyes of Lord Harrison. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he said quietly.
“I know that women aren’t allowed,” she protested. “I simply have to speak with my father.”
“It’s not only because women aren’t allowed.” Lord Harrison’s voice was surprisingly soft. There was something else in there too, a protectiveness. “This isn’t a good time.”
“I only want to ask him a question.” What on earth was the matter?
There was a cry from the table. Regina knew that sound—it was her father.
She shoved past Lord Harrison, who was far too surprised to stop her. “Father?”
Father looked very pale, staring at the cards on the table. Lord Pettifer looked far too pleased with himself. Smug, even. Regina thought he looked like a rat.
“It appears as though I’ve won after all,” he said.
Father looked like he might faint. Regina hurried up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Father? Are you quite all right?”
“This must be the youngest of your lovely daughters,” Lord Pettifer said. “My deepest condolences.”
Deepest condolences? Regina looked from Lord Pettifer to her father. “What’s going on?”
“Lord Hartfield.” It was Lord Harrison. “If I may escort your daughter out?”
Father nodded, still pale and distracted. Lord Harrison turned to Mr. Denny. “Denny, if you’ll get Hartfield some water here. Pettifer, do us all a favor and collect your winnings and leave.”
“I don’t understand.” Regina stood firm. “Why must you offer condolences?”
“Regina, please leave,” Father said faintly.
“No.” She startled herself with how firm her voice sounded. “I want to know what is going on.”
“What is going on,” Lord Pettifer said, standing, “Is that you are about to find your circumstances wildly changed.”
He held up his winnings. There was a wad of notes, a ring, and a piece of paper.
Regina looked closer. No, it wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was signed. She squinted until she could read it.
I, Lord Hartfield, do will the holder of this paper the rights and lands owned by me according to the laws of the gentry.
Her father had gambled everything.
And he had lost.
Chapter 3
Her knees nearly buckled and only a warm, strong hand at her elbow kept her upright. She looked up to see Lord Harrison looking at her with his brows drawn together. He seemed concerned.
“You should follow me, Miss Regina,” he murmured.
Regina yanked her arm away. She had no idea where the impertinence came from. She was never like this. “Father. Have you truly gambled away our lands?”
Lord Pettifer gave an exaggerated sigh. “I did tell him I had a good hand.”
“Which you always say when you have a bad one!” Father bellowed.
Regina wrapped an arm around Father’s shoulders. He was working himself up into a state. “Father, please, don’t yell. Come with me and we’ll get you sorted.”
“There is no sorting,” Mr. Charleston snorted.
“Hold your tongue,” Lord Harrison instructed. “Pettifer. Leave. Lord Hartfield, do sit down. Miss Regina if you’ll come with me.”
“Go,” Father said. His voice didn’t even sound like his. It was shaking and frail. Regina had never heard him sound so old.
Lord Harrison took her by the elbow again and this time she allowed it.
“Surely this is not legal,” she whispered.
Lord Harrison led her out of the room and through to the front door. “It doesn’t matter.”
He opened the front door and the cool night air hit her face. Only as the wind passed over her face did she realize how hot she had gotten. She was practically shaking.
“Just lean back here.” Lord Harrison helped her to lean against the wall of the house. “There now.”
Regina looked up at him. “Why does it not matter if it isn’t legal?”
Lord Harrison looked away from her. There was light spilling out of the windows of the house on one side. On the other, there were the pearl-white beams of the moon. Both sources coupled with the shadows to play over Lord Harrison’s face and place him in contrast: one-half golden and lit up, the other half silvery pale.
Regina wondered which side was true. He looked oddly warm on one half and cold and calculating on the other. It reminded her of the fairy stories Bridget would read to her when she was a child. There were stories about fairy kings in them. They’d enchant you and then whisk you away and entrap you.
She shook her head clear of such thoughts. They were childish and ridiculous. And if there was a time for such thoughts, it wasn’t now. She spoke again.
“If I am to be kicked out of my home and my sisters left penniless, I deserve to know why. Surely my father—”
She cut herself off. She had meant to say, surely my father is not such a fool. But that wasn’t necessarily true, was it? He had been a slave to the cards for years. Regina had eavesdropped on many an argument between Bridget and Father over the matter.
He had lost thousands of pounds over the years at cards. Was it truly so hard to believe that he would lose their home as well?
Lord Harrison sighed and looked back at her. “Miss Regina. You must understand. It is not legally binding. No judge would enforce it. But there is the matter of honor.”
“Honor?”
“Your father made a promise in front of others. He swore to honor that promise should he lose. He lost. To back out now would save his land but impugn his honor. He would be looked at with disdain.”
“And he shall be looked at with such high regard once he is penniless and without land?”
Lord Harrison inclined his head as if tipping his hat to her. “You see clearly the conundrum you’ve been left in.”