Paying the Virgin's Price

Should I lose the next hand, I pledge in payment my last thing of value. The maidenhead of my daughter, Diana. Edgar Price June 3rd 1804

Beshaley sneered back at him. ‘Just for a moment yesterday, I almost believed you. If you are innocent of any crime, then to carry vengeance to the second generation is to damn myself. But a man who would take such a thing in trade for a gambling debt deserves to suffer all that fate wishes to bring him.’

Nate glanced around, afraid that the people nearby might hear what he had done in that moment of madness. ‘I was young. And foolish. And in my cups. Edgar Price was my first big score, and I was too full of myself and my own success to think of what I might do to others. When I suggested this bet, it was intended as a cruel jest. I’d taken the man’s money. And his house, as well. I live there still. He’d bankrupted himself at my table to the point where his only options were debtor’s prison or a bullet. And yet, he would not stop playing. Like every gambler, he thought that his luck would change if he played just one more hand. I thought to shock him. To embarrass him. That if I pushed him far enough, he would slink from the table. Instead, he signed this to me.’

Nate took the paper back and stuffed it into his purse so he would not have to see it any more. It still pained him to read those words. ‘He cried when he lost. He begged me for mercy. And I told him that if I ever saw him again, or heard of him frequenting the tables anywhere in London, I would find him and the girl and collect what was owed me. And to his credit, I never saw or heard from him, after that day. I keep the paper to remind me what can happen when a man is pushed too far at the tables. And I have not taken a single marker, since.’

‘How noble of you.’ The Gypsy looked ready to spit in disgust. ‘You are lower than I thought you, Nathan. And after seeing this, I feel considerably less guilty about delivering the rope.’ He pushed it back across the table toward Nate.

Nate stared down at the symbol of disgrace, and in his heart, he agreed. He deserved punishment. But his mouth continued to try to justify the unjustifiable. ‘I thought the girl long married, by now. It has been years. She must know that I am no threat to her. But I went to warn the Carlows of you. And she was there. She is chaperone to Honoria and little Verity. You knew, you bastard. You knew it all along.’

The Gypsy smiled in satisfaction. ‘I knew nothing, other than that I would bring the rope to you, and see what resulted from it. Normally fate is not so swift. By your actions, you have made your own hell. Do not blame me, if today is the day that the devil has come to claim you.’

‘Whether or not you have staged this meeting with the girl, it will be the last one between us. I mean to leave Diana Price alone, just as I have always done. Now take this back.’ He slapped the rope upon the table.

Stephen arched his eyebrows. ‘And what will happen, if I do? Will she vanish in a cloud of smoke? You created the problem, Wardale. You must be the one to solve it.’

‘I can hardly be held to blame for what happened to her father, Stephen. He came to me, and he would not leave. He wanted to gamble. I am a gambler. I never set out to be what I have become. It is all the fault of your mother and your people.’

‘You won someone’s daughter at faro, and it is all my mother’s fault, is it?’

That sounded even more foolish than the rest of it. God knew how mad the rest of his defence would sound. ‘Did you know me for a gamester, before the curse?’

The Gypsy snorted. ‘You were ten years old.’

‘Yet I’d ruined my first man before I could shave. And that is the way it has been, from the very first wager. I am lucky. And it is all because of the curse your mother placed upon me.’

The Gypsy laughed. ‘You believe in luck?’

‘What gambler does not? I cannot claim that skill has brought me all that I have gained. I win far too often to think that it is always by my own abilities.’ He waved a hand in the direction of the faro tables. ‘These tables? All gaffed. Dante cheats. Only a fool would play here. But if you like, I will beat them for you. No matter how much Dante might cheat, he can never beat me.’ He stared at the tables in remorse. ‘No one has ever been this lucky. No one save me. It is not natural. And if I cannot lose? Then to play against others is little better than robbery.’

‘Then stop playing. Or tell them to.’

‘I cannot.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Every night, I swear I am through. But the next night falls and I come back to the tables. I mean to play until I lose. Not just a hand or a single pass of the dice. When I lose all of it, every last thing I have won, then maybe I will understand how the others have felt. Only then can I stop.’

The Gypsy’s snorts continued, combining into a gale of laughter. ‘First you thought I conjured the Price girl. And now you wish to blame me for your excessive good luck. That is the maddest thing I have heard yet.’

‘You do not believe in your own magic?’

‘I do not have to. Not if you do. I come here with a reminder of your family’s villainy. And you proceed to fill in the rest. In less than a day, you are near to prostrate with guilt. If you want freedom, Nathan, use this rope for the purpose it is intended.’ He held the noose at eye level, until he was sure the meaning was clear, and then tossed it back on the table. ‘Then my doings with your family will be over and you will no longer be able to concern yourself with the families of your victims.’

His self-control was a distant memory, as Nathan felt the long-buried rage burning in him again at the old accusation. ‘My father was hanged for a crime he did not commit. My family has paid more than enough, with that. Take back the curse, Beshaley.’

‘No.’

‘You dirty Gypsy. Take back the curse.’In fury, he reached out and grabbed his former friend by his bad arm, squeezing the bicep.

He had found the injury. Stephano Beshaley went as white as his dark skin would allow, and the pain of the contact brought him out of his chair and to his knees.

Nate was overcome with a shameful glee to see his enemy humbled before him, and he remembered why it was so important to keep one’s emotions out of the game. When one always had the upper hand, it was too easy to take pleasure from the suffering he inflicted. He pushed the anger from his mind, and squeezed again with clinical precision, watching the other’s face contort with pain. ‘Take back the rope. Let me go, and I will release your arm. You have my word.’

The Gypsy took a deep breath, as though he were trying to drive back the pain with the force of his will. Then he raised his shaking white face in defiance. ‘Your father was a coward and a murderer. And you are the sort who would gamble for a girl’s honour. Your word means nothing to me.’

Though the first statement angered him, the last was so true that his grip slackened on his old friend’s arm, and he watched as the colour returned to the man’s face. And in the place of the nothingness inside him, there was now a deep bone-aching remorse. ‘Please. I am sorry. For all of it, Stephen. Let me go.’

And for a moment, the man on his knees before Nathan was plain Stephen Hebden, as hurt and bewildered as Nathan was. ‘I cannot. I am as much a slave to the curse as you are, for I was the one left to administer it. If your father was innocent, then you are already free and what you think is a curse is all your own doing. But if not?’ He shrugged with his one free arm. ‘I can do nothing for you.’

Chapter Four

‘Well, this was a most satisfying afternoon,’ Honoria announced, as they neared the end of their shopping trip to Bond Street. ‘And perhaps next time, we will persuade Diana to buy something for herself.’

‘There is nothing I really need,’ Diana said, as much to persuade herself as the girls. It was always tempting, on these forays, to make a purchase of some sort. But even a small one was an unnecessary indulgence.

‘Then perhaps what you need is to sit down and have an ice. It would be very refreshing, after such a long walk.’ Honoria was looking longingly in the direction of confectionary.

‘The walk was not very long at all, Honoria, and should hardly exhaust you. Exercise, when taken in moderate amounts, is beneficial to health. And I am sure that tea at home will be refreshing

enough.’

‘Sometimes, Diana, you are far too sensible.’

Diana smiled at the accusation. ‘I need to be. Or you would indulge every whim, and grow too plump for your new gown.’

‘Is that the gentleman who called yesterday, Diana?’Verity Carlow was staring in the opposite direction, and making an unladylike effort to point over the stack of parcels she was carrying, at a man on the end of the block. ‘Oh, do say it is him. For he is every bit as striking as you described him.’

Diana prepared a reprimand, and then glanced in the direction her friend was looking, and saw the sun glinting off the silver hair of the man she had seen in the parlour. In the last twenty-four hours, she had spent so much time thinking of him that it felt almost as if she had conjured his image to appear on the street. It was hard to believe she was truly going to see him again after such a short time. But he must be real, for he looked very different than he had when she had seen him in the house. Today he seemed carefree. He was without a hat. And with the wind ruffling his hair, and his green eyes squinting into the sun, he looked almost as though he belonged on the deck of a ship, staring out at the sea.

She wondered if that was his true job. Sea captain. Or perhaps privateer. Surely something very romantic and commanding. He stood on the sidewalk as though he had conquered half of London. And here she was, spinning more romantic fancies around the poor man. But she had to admit, the effect that the sight of him had on her was sudden and difficult to control. It brought with it a faint breathlessness that increased as she realized that he was coming in their direction. ‘Yes,’ Diana said, trying to keep the excess of emotion from showing in her voice. ‘That is Mr Dale. Whatever can he be doing here?’

‘Shopping, I am sure,’ Honoria said. ‘Just as everyone else is doing. Perhaps he is visiting the tobacconist or the bank.’Apparently, the man’s imposing nature was lost upon her. She was looking at Diana in a most searching way. ‘While you made his behaviour yesterday sound very mysterious, you noticed nothing about him that would prevent him from mixing in society, did you?’

‘Well, no.’ It was just that she did not ever remember seeing him here before. And she was sure, had he shared the street with them in the past, she would have noticed.

Diana doubted Marc’s apparent friendship with the man would require his sister’s association with him. If it did, Marc would introduce them properly, in his own good time. For safety’s sake, she prepared to steer Verity and Honoria to the other side of the street. ‘You are probably right. He is shopping, or running errands of some sort. But I doubt he means to mix with us. He seemed most uncomfortable when visiting yesterday, and was in a hurry to leave.’

Verity gave her a round-eyed look. ‘He did not seem to hold us any ill will, did he?’

‘Of course not. But neither did I have any reason to think he might wish our company today.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Honoria. ‘We do not mean him any harm. We are only being friendly. It is not as if Verity and I are angling after him, no matter how flattering your description might have been.’

Verity shaded her eyes with her hand for a better look. ‘Flattering as well as accurate. He is most handsome, is he not?’ She grinned at Diana. ‘And it would show an amazing lack of Christian charity to appear to shun our brother’s old friend, if we meet him on the street.’

Although she was sure that Verity’s heart was at least partly in the right place, Honoria must know that an act of Christian charity by a marriageable young lady towards an attractive, eligible man was liable to be misinterpreted. But it was too late to explain this, for Honoria was waving her handkerchief at the gentleman in question. ‘Here, Mr Dale! Over here!’ She set out at a quick pace towards the man, who was momentarily curious as to the identity of the person greeting him. But then he recognized Diana, trailing in Honoria’s wake. And his eyes took on a distinctly hunted expression.

‘Honoria!’ she said sharply, hurrying after the girl. ‘You have not been properly introduced to the man.’

Honoria ignored the tone of warning. ‘Nonsense. He told you he had seen us as children, did he not? Then surely we need not be so formal. But if it bothers you, then you must remedy the fact immediately, and present us to him.