The Double Wager Read Online Free

found a brisk gallop a far more effective cure for a thick head than a morning spent sleeping.
    Before noon he had returned home, changed his clothes, and driven himself to Jackson’s boxing saloon, where he spent an invigorating couple of hours exercising and sparring with friends. Only the very best of Jackson’s clients would accept a challenge from the duke. Lord Horton was not one of that number, but the two friends did sally forth together to White’s Club afterward for luncheon.
    Eversleigh was back at home again by midafternoon. After changing his clothes yet again, he sauntered down to the office occupied by his secretary, James Ridley. Ridley was a youngish man, about the same age as the duke, in his early thirties. He had been at the university with his Grace when both had been youths. His father was a country gentleman who had fallen on hard times. He had struggled to be able to educate his son, as that son would have to be gainfully employed.
    Ridley had been ambitious in those days. He had hoped for a career in government service, or at the very least in the Church. He had accepted temporary employment from Eversleigh, who had befriended him and insisted that he needed a competent secretary, as his title was then new to him and his duties unsure. The temporary employment was now in its thirteenth year.
    Ridley sat at his desk surrounded by an ordered confusion of papers and ledgers when Eversleigh strolled in. The latter raised his quizzing glass and let his eyes roam over the desk.
    “How revolting, James!” he sighed wearily. “Do I really keep you so busy? And do I insist that you work such long hours? It is a delightful afternoon, my dear boy. You would be much better employed viewing the ladies in Hyde Park.”
    James Ridley looked up and smiled absently. “Do you realize how often you say that to me, your Grace?” he asked. “I would not feel that I earned my more than generous salary if I did not put in a full day’s work. And you know that you already insist that I take off both Saturday and Sunday, and force me to take a two-hour luncheon break each day.”
    The duke moved into the room and leaned one elbow against a bookshelf. “Do I really, James?” he asked, crossing one booted leg over the other. “And when did you manage to wrest such favorable conditions from me?”
    Ridley gave a cluck of exasperation, but did not venture a reply.
    “And what letters clamor for my attention today?” Eversleigh asked.
    “These, your Grace,” Ridley replied, indicating a neat bundle on the top comer of his desk. “And please do not forget the speech that you are scheduled to give in the Upper House next week.”
    “Am I really? Ah, did I know about this before, James?” asked Eversleigh languidly.
    “I have reminded you twice in the last week, your Grace,” Ridley replied, pained.
    “Have you indeed? You must have spoken at a time when my mind was occupied with more pressing matters,” his employer commented.
    Ridley locked even more pained.
    “The topic, James?”
    “The deplorable plight of chimney boys in London, your Grace.”
    “Ah, yes, now I recall,” said Eversleigh, still leaning indolently against the shelf. “And do you have the speech written for me, James?”
    Ridley allowed his exasperation to show. “You know you never allow me to write your speeches on topics about which you feel particularly strongly, your Grace,” he said.
    Eversleigh raised his eyebrows above lazy eyes. “And this is one of them, James?” he asked. “Quite so. I suppose you are right. You usually are, dear boy. A quite disconcerting habit you have.”
    Ridley gave him a speaking glance.
    “And what invitations arrived today?” Eversleigh continued.
    “Invitations, your Grace?” James Ridley looked blankly at his employer. “All the invitations are in the wastebasket, where you have instructed me always to place them.”
    “Quite so, dear boy,” the duke agreed, regarding his secretary