Instead of answering, his grinning brother nodded at Michael. “You tell them.”
Michael stared at Robert, his stomach clenching. “I do not—”
“You do. These words you do have.”
Michael looked down at the floor a moment, then cleared his throat. He spoke for a few moments, focused on the carpet, detailing the encounter with the duke at Campion’s. “Jimmy, the dealer, told us later that it was the duke who was cheating, and he was mostly angry that it was not working. But Jimmy and another player had spotted it earlier. Instead of calling the duke out on it, which would be dangerous for both of them, they simply made sure his efforts did not work.”
Rose looked from Michael to Robert. “How would they know—”
“Because he has done it before. They knew what to watch for.” Robert rubbed his jaw for a moment, making the still-red wounds on his face wrinkle and bulge. “Wykeham has a temper. A bad one. He keeps it tamped down most of the time, but he does not like losing at cards or not getting his way. Father has said as much about his appearances in Parliament. Opposing Wykeham can result in an outburst or, more likely, a subtle threat meant to intimidate. His title gives him a lot of power, and he enjoys wielding it. He considers everyone at Campion’s beneath him, and when anyone else wins, he schemes to overcome his losses, even if it means cheating.”
“Which he is apparently not very good at,” Clara murmured.
Michael finally met her gaze. “He currently owes the house almost five-thousand pounds.”
“I beg your pardon?” Clara asked. “Did you say five-thousandpounds?”
Michael nodded. “He lost three-hundred just that night. He’s banned for three months.”
“The thing to consider,” Robert said softly, “is that Campion’s is not the only hel—establishment at which he gambles.”
“So there is no determining how massive his debt is,” Rose said.
Robert shrugged. “I can try to find out.”
Clara inched forward on the settee’s cushion. “Please do so, if you can.” She sat a little straighter. “How much could he owe before he bankrupts his family?”
Robert waved one hand. “Oh, he is quite far from that. I would never have let him run up such a debt—nor would any other house—if we did not think he could pay it. At least for now. But there are rumors he is beginning to let his estate go fallow, which means his earnings may change. The rumors note that his wife ran the estate, and he did not pick up the slack when she died. So the bucket is not bottomless—and my guess he is searching for a wife with a substantial dowry, one who can do more than warm his—”
“Robert.” Rose’s tone remained sharp.
Robert’s grin faded as he paused, and Michael knew he struggled to phrase it in a more appropriate way.
Clara filled the silence. “Ah. That’s why I’m only one of his eggs.”
Michael’s mind tripped over the words. “You are—he thinks—um... anegg?”
She smiled, a soft expression that made his heart as well as his mind stumble. “Yes,” she said, her voice dropping. “He said I am one of many eggs in his basket. He is considering other women. I’ve been trying to find out who.”
Rose sniffed. “I think I can help with that. You are not the first to inquire about the duke.” She gestured to the sheets on the table. “I have missives from five others, asking if I know anything untoward about the Duke of Wykeham. All are from women who have been running estates—three of them are widows—or have helped run households for invalid or incapable mothers. I have heard through the servants that three have already dismissed him as a suitor, without making such information public. That leaves but three, including Lady Clara.”
“Ah,” Robert said, apparently finding the proper words. “So he is not looking for a wife to, um, provide more heirs but someone to replace his wife on the management side of his estate and add to his income.”
“Which, unfortunately, would not be a detriment in my father’s eyes.” Clara clutched her skirt in her fists, wrinkling the silk.
Michael felt her desperation. “But there is still the issue that he cheats—and has that temper. He’s participated in more than a few duels. He is known for being a good shot, but eventually he will come across someone better, who is not willing to aim at the clouds. You could marry him but wind up an impoverished widow. Something I think your father would consider.”
Clara’s face shifted abruptly, from a furrowed brow to alarm in her eyes. “Duels,” she murmured. Oddly, Clara turned her attention to Radcliff. “Duels.”
Michael watched as the maid gave a single nod, which sent a spike of worry up Michael’s spine. “Clara—”
“Lady Clara,” Rose whispered at him.
Michael cleared his throat. “Lady Clara—”
She turned those emerald eyes on him, and Michael’s heart skipped a beat, his words drifting into vapor as he remembered the warmth of her last night, the glorious touch of those lips. He felt like a lovesick boy, and he forced himself to sit straighter, to focus on the moment. “Lady Clara, please do not indulge in any foolish—”
Wrong word.
