Just after Carlos suggested they head out before his wins turned to losses, Adrian was distracted by something over near the betting books. Did someone just say the name Rosalind?
“Come with me,” Adrian muttered to his friend.
“What is it?”
“Probably nothing. I just want to see the latest wagers. Looks like something’s got those men excited.”
As they drew closer, Adrian heard the name again. Surely this was a coincidence, because he’d met a girl with that name and was inclined to hear it everywhere.
“I bet I could do it in five days,” one man was saying to his companion.
“That’s too fast, unless there’s kidnapping involved. Think of it! The parents, the house, the need to be polite for a while…”
“A week, then.” The first man raised his voice and told the person writing in the betting book. “Put me down for a week. Ten pounds.”
“What’s this?” Carlos asked the pair of men in a mild, interested tone. Adrian hung back, and the other men did not notice him standing there.
“New game!” the first man said eagerly, the mad light of the inveterate gambler in his eyes. “All the rage. Seduce a virgin.”
“That’s the oldest game,” Carlos retorted instantly.
“There’s a twist. It’s a particular virgin—Miss Rosalie Baker or something like that. She’s blind—raises the challenge because you have to get past the chaperones and whatnot. Pool starts at three days from meeting her to ruining her, which seems a bit rushed, all the way out to a month…which might as well be ordinary courtship at that point.” The man seemed utterly unaware of Carlos’s appalled expression, and he still did not notice Adrian, which was good, because Adrian was livid.
“Why her?” Carlos asked, obviously trying to keep his voice in check.
The other men shrugged. “Who knows? It’s got to be someone, so we can have a wager. Why not her?”
Adrian, his jaw clenched, took a few steps back, and Carlos swiftly withdrew as well, steering Adrian toward the doors.
The pair headed outside, before violence broke out.
“This is my fault,” Adrian said in a low voice, once they were walking down the narrow street, Adrian’s steps so fast that Carlos had to hurry to keep pace.
“You don’t know that,” his friend said.
“What else could I think? I just met the girl. I had half a dance with her, and because I am who I am, everyone assumes it’s a new game, to ruin a virgin for fun?”
“This may blow over in a day or two. After all, how many men are actually going to place a wager on such a thing?” Then Carlos winced and seemed to hear his own words. “Never mind. We’re in London. There will be more than enough men eager to gamble on someone else’s misfortune.”
“Exactly.”
“Though perhaps by tomorrow, another ridiculous wager will gain the attention of the gamblers. That’s really what we should hope for. Want me to challenge one of these British ship captains to some sort of race down the Thames?” Carlos had ready access to his family’s ships, and though he did not look it, he was a skilled sailor and helmsman.
“How will that help? The bets on Miss Blake have already been placed.” That was the problem, for wagers could not be rescinded.
“What else do you recommend? You can’t exactly stand guard over her, can you? For one thing it’s impractical. For another, you’re the last person who should be seen around her if the goal is to save her reputation.”
Adrian glared at him, but Carlos held firm. “What? It’s true. If I were a father, and thank the Lord I’m not, I wouldn’t let a daughter within half a mile of you.”
“Thank you for that.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Yes, and that’s why I want to clock you,” Adrian muttered. “I don’t suppose you could get the whole Blake family on your ship and sail them to some secluded cove until this nonsense ends?”
“Could, but I won’t. We’ve got very firm rules about hauling human cargo. We’re not Saint-Domingue,” he added with disdain. The neighboring province held a much, much higher number of slaves, which was a point of frequent contention on the already contentious island.
“Then another plan is required,” Adrian said quietly.
