Page 23 of A Midwinter Wager

Chapter 14

Cesca watched anxiouslyas an old pie dish with beautiful slip-trailed decoration was brought out. Raisins and brandy were found, and Captain Brandt slipped a coin into the innkeeper's hand in appreciation. Oh well, at least Fitz wasn't going to have to pay for everything—though she suspected, knowing his generous nature, he'd try hard to do so.

All the candles were extinguished, save the one on the table. The leaping flames in the hearth gave a warm, cozy glow to the room, but that was no comfort. She must get over her fear of fire or spend the night in a haunted chamber. It was a deliberate piece of spite on Alicia's part. Had she spotted Fitz and herself embracing at the ball? It would account for the current effort at punishment.

Cesca watched with grim foreboding as the raisins were tipped into the pie dish and scattered about so everyone could reach. Brandy was then poured into a large ladle, which Captain Brandt held over the fire until it was sufficiently warmed.

He smiled roguishly at Alicia, and she simpered back at him. How quickly the man had become Alicia's ally! Was there more than just gallantry involved? Was he trying to make Fitz jealous, because Fitz had been promoted to major, while he remained a mere captain? If that were the case, he was flirting with the wrong woman, she thought, with a wry smile.

Her musing was interrupted by the progress of the ladle to the table, where Brandt used a taper to ignite the warmed brandy, before pouring it carefully over the raisins.

"To make it even more interesting," said Alicia, "I'm going to wager I get the most raisins. I will lay out a sovereign, which shall go to anyone able to fetch out more than me."

"I'll take that wager," replied Fitz, laying a sovereign of his own on the table.

"Splendid—a battle betwixt a gentleman and his intended." Captain Brandt hung the ladle up by the fireplace. "I sense there's more at stake here than a mere sovereign," he added, smirking at Alicia.

Cesca winced, and Fitz started at the word intended. But now was not the time, nor was this the place, to refute it. The other members of the group were laughing, and shaking coins out of their purses, entering happily into the spirit of the wager. It would spoil everyone’s fun if Alicia got into a pet.

Cesca tipped a coin out of her purse. As she set it on the table, she announced, "I wager Viscount Lonsdale will win," earning a black look from her stepsister.

The room fell quiet until the only things to be heard were the voices of the greedy flames consuming the brandy's vapor and the breathing of the excited participants. The liquor burned with blue fire, tipped in places with orange, mercifully a far gentler-looking flame than that which had nearly destroyed Cesca's bed all those years ago.

Then, without waiting for any rules to be established, the company dipped straight in, grabbing raisins from the flames, and dropping them quickly on the table in front of them. There were laughs, complaints, and squawks of dismay as everyone battled to claim the fruit.

Everyone but Cesca, who could only gaze hopelessly into the flames.

She tore her eyes away, accepting she could only be a spectator. She watched Alicia, whose technique was to set her sights on a particular raisin and keep her fingers in the flame until she had a firm grip on it before removing it from the bowl. Other players dipped and retreated, or dived quickly in and out, but dropped their spoils. All was done in a spirit of great good humor and evident enjoyment.

Seeing no one burned or even singed—though there was much licking of overheated fingers—Cesca plucked up the courage to try and salvage at least one raisin, but Alicia knocked her hand side.

"You could at least let me have one, Alicia," Cesca admonished, bristling with annoyance.

"This is a contest, my dear, or had you not noticed?" Alicia grabbed another raisin and added it to her haul.

Gritting her teeth, Cesca steeled herself to try again, but the blue flames flickered and went out. There was a mixed chorus of groans and sighs.

Eyeing her pile of fruit with glee, Alicia said, "Fitz, will you strike up the lights again, so that we may count our winnings?"

He obeyed, then returned to his place at the table opposite Cesca, while Brandt decanted the remaining brandy and raisins into a jug for consumption later.

Alicia had the most. Grinning broadly, she gathered up the little pile of coins she'd won and shot Fitz a triumphant look.

Cesca was the only player with no spoils at all. She pursed her lips in acceptance of her fate—she was going to spend the night in a room which might—or might not—be haunted. However, even the company of an infuriated spirit was preferable to sharing a bed with Alicia.

Glancing up, she saw Fitz glowering at her stepsister, a look that she ignored. When he caught Cesca watching, his expression softened, and he gave her a wink—which sent thrills rampaging up and down her spine.

Raising his voice above the general hubbub, he said, "I won't hear of Miss Francesca Heathcote spending the night in the so-called haunted room. I will take it, and she may have my room up in the attics."

Of course. Fitz was not just a hero of the battlefield. He was a gentleman too. Cesca swelled with pride.

"Now Fitz—that's not the way this works," stated Alicia. "We already agreed what the forfeit for the loser was going to be. And as I'm the winner, on account of having ten raisins, I demand we adhere to the original agreement. But to make it fairer on my sister, I'll wager my entire hoard of gold sovereigns that she can't spend all night in that room."

"I doubt there's actually a ghost," Cesca said quickly. "Please don't put yourself out for me, sir. I'll take my loss in good part and declare you'll all envy me in the morning for having had the best night of any of you. And I'll have the pleasure of being six sovereigns richer," she added, glancing sideways at Alicia.

Fitz's lips parted, but she shook her head. She would not be made to look small by Alicia. She'd stay in that room until doomsday if it put Alicia's nose out of joint.

Her attention was diverted by Captain Brandt leaning over her with a jug in his hand. "Allow me to offer you something to help you sleep," he offered, with a feral smile. "If you're dead to the world on brandy, not even the demons of hell can disturb your rest." He poured out a generous portion, along with a few of the leftover raisins.