Rothgar merely looked at him.
Bryght sighed. “The tender virgin was Portia.”
“Ah. I suspected as much. A rash gamester for a brother does rather point the way.”
“Hopefully not too clearly.”
“Certainly no one speaks of it. No one questions Hippolyta’s extreme youth, and Cuthbertson’s prey are usually of the petty classes. The wager was a clever twist, too. Who would question a wager?”
“Quite. And I was able to set the terms.”
“I’m pleased your acuity has not entirely deserted you. It was also very clever to connect her with the Trelyns. Virtually untouchable. I congratulate you.”
Bryght laughed. “Call me rather a Prince of Serendip. That was not planned.”
“And the scandal at the Willoughbys’ is yet more luck? I was feeling positively overwhelmed by your genius! If anyone thinks to wonder why you are marrying rather lower than you might, they will have a reason. You were caught at the game and decided to act honorably.”
“And there you have some truth in it,” Bryght admitted. “I wanted to bind her.”
“But in view of all this,” asked Rothgar, “can you in honor retract your offer of marriage?”
“Can I in honor enforce it? She’s still a virgin, Bey.”
Rothgar’s brows rose. “So I gather, but as the story has already entered the realm of the fabulous I couldn’t be sure.”
Bryght suddenly laughed. “Hence the letters. I’m now a lover of mythic proportions and can expect to be hotly pursued by lustful ladies. I had best marry, and soon.”
“Don’t forget the lustful swains,” remarked Rothgar. “I overheard Ramage compose an ode to your torso. I hinted that I would treat such matters as if they were offenses against one of my sisters. He was chastened but confused.”
Bryght collapsed in helpless laughter. “I wish I could see you out to defend my honor! ’Struth, but I had a simple life before a certain Amazon decided to shoot me.”
“Perhapsshewill defend your honor,” said Rothgar. “If she’s of that mettle, you must certainly marry. It seems marriages that open with pistols work out very well.”
Bryght stood, still smiling. “I intend to marry her, but not on Wednesday under duress. I had best arrange matters.”
Rothgar waved a negligent hand. “I will take this news to Trelyn House.”
“There is no need—”
“It will go better. You still have Nerissa’s letter?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have the means to communicate with her secretly?”
“I know how. I hardly make a practice of it.”
“I should hope not. Very well. Send a message telling her to support her cousin’s liberation. I will deal with Trelyn. He would like my support in some matters to do with the Cinque Ports. What Miss St. Claire does will perhaps be interesting.”
He rose languorously and studied himself in a gilded pier glass. “Should I mute my glory? The orders, perhaps.” He removed a sash and a couple of showy jewels, and handed them to Bryght. “Do you have a message for Miss St. Claire if I should see her?”
Bryght considered the glittering baubles in his hands. “Just that I wish her well.”
Rothgar left, and Bryght felt strangely bereft. It was the only thing to do and yet it left him uncertain of the future.
He did not deceive himself that it would be easy to woo Portia back to hand after setting her free. She would not again be tricked, or ruled by her passions. She would have solid defenses in place, and be determined to have nothing to do with a rakish gamester. She would doubtless leave immediately for the country, and he could hardly go to Dorset to pine at her gates.
As he went to lock the jewels in the safe, Bryght pondered the fact that he had never considered how his foolish kindness to her brother might have appeared. No wonder she had bristled with hostility on every occasion.
