twenty-first year. She gave a quick nod toward George. “I am not used to dogs.
I did not mean to insult him. Perhaps he looks more noble now that I think about
it.” Then Miss Gillbank said to Judith, “What is this about a shilling?”
“It was a wager,” I said, and wondered if I had just assisted in the corruption
of an innocent.
Instead of recriminations or looks of disapproval, Miss Gillbank just shook her
head and sighed. “My lady, this child has won at least five pounds from me over
the years. Don’t wager against her if you wish to remain solvent. She’s very
lucky. Also I fancy she is something of a sharper, though you would never
believe it looking at that lovely little face.”
“I am beginning to believe it a talent, Miss Gillbank,” Judith said. “I shall
have to ask Papa if he is a gambler.”
“He is, but he does not indulge very much in it,” she said.
“And I was the one to suggest it,” I said, for I myself had always to wager on
just about anything that popped to mind. My grandfather had normally won our
wagers, but not always. He was a gambler himself, but, he always said, “You
wager more than you can afford to lose, you deserve to be shot.” A no-nonsense
man, my grandfather. Some had believed that he was perhaps too set in his
opinions. He was, but since I shared just about all of his beliefs and opinions,
I thought those who dared criticize him were fools.
I had never forgotten what he’d said about gambling. As I became older, there
were always stories circulating about men who had gambled away their homes,
their inheritances, even their horses and hounds, and most of them had shot
themselves. I remember hearing about a woman who had killed herself because she
had lost all her jewels and her husband refused to buy her more.
“What is a sharper, Miss Gillbank?”
“It is someone who gambles with such skill that everyone refuses to make wagers
with him.”
“I don’t want to be a sharper just yet,” Judith said. “If you refuse to wager
with me, then my pile of five pounds would never grow.”
“Then,” I said, “you will have to lose a wager upon occasion, to draw people
back into your net.”
“Yes, that’s it,” Judith said. She turned to her governess. “Miss Gillbank, this
is Papa’s new wife, Andy. I think she is very young to be married to Papa, but
she said that Papa adores George, so I guess that makes it all right.”
“Hello,” I said, and offered her my hand. She looked at my hand, perplexed, then
finally shook it. Did she believe I would treat her like a servant?
“Welcome to Devbridge Manor, my lady. I hope Judith here hasn’t shredded all our
characters?”
“Oh, no. She has spent just about all her time playing with George.”
“George isn’t ugly, Miss Gillbank,” Judith said. “Perhaps you need to put on
your glasses to see him better.”
Miss Gillbank eyed George, who, having finished his business with the
rhododendron, was happily trotting back to three females he imagined to be here
just for his pleasure. He picked up the stick in his mouth and waved it at us
indiscriminately.
Judith immediately went to play with him. Miss Gillbank smiled as she said, “It
is a great pleasure to meet you. His lordship spoke briefly to me last night. He
appears to be very happy.”
I sat back down on the bench and motioned for her to sit as well, which she did.
I said without preamble, my voice quiet enough so Judith wouldn’t hear me, “I
had no idea my husband had a second wife and a little girl by that marriage.”
One of her very pretty arched brows went up. “Oh, goodness, learning such a
thing would come as quite a shock. I am so sorry.”
“The fact that my husband chose not to tell me is hardly your fault, Miss
Gillbank. I suppose I am merely thinking aloud. I simply do not understand why
he wouldn’t tell me.”
“Perhaps you were so important to him that he feared losing you if he did tell