It was the new Earl of Walgrave and some friends. Fortitude Ware was in mourning black, but encrusted with silver and jet. From the way he accepted a kiss from an opportunistic whore, Bryght assumed he had not decided to follow in his strait-laced father’s footsteps.
Bryght wondered if he could use Fort’s arrival to his advantage, but he was damned if he saw how. There was some connection between the Wares and the St. Claires, but it was probably slight. Moreover, the Mallorens and Wares were outright enemies these days, only civil because Chastity Ware had recently married Bryght’s young brother, Cyn.
The bidding resumed, but it was dying. Bryght bid four hundred, hoping that would be it.
Speenholt glared across the room. “Four-fifty.”
“Four-seventy,” said D’Ebercall.
“Five hundred,” said Bryght. Damnation, the very figure involved was going to cause talk.
Speenholt pointedly turned his back on the proceedings. D’Ebercall glared at Bryght, but then shrugged. “She’s yours.”
Bryght waited for a moment, then moved forward, still weighing the possibility of taking his purchase out of here, but having made a wager, he had ruled that out.
The voyeurs were his main problem now. Demand for a spot would be brisk when word got out that there was such an unusual wager on the line. Mirabelle would probably raise her price.
He didn’t like the situation one bit, but he told himself he’d avoided the worst of it. By the terms of the wager, Portia would not be violated or stripped naked, but he hated the thought of those avid eyes on her as he drove her to simulated ecstasy.
And what was he going to have to do to make it convincing? He hoped to heaven she was a good actress because he suspected Prestonly would want to watch the wager play out.
“Six hundred,” said a new voice.
Bryght turned to stare at the Earl of Walgrave. What the devil…? Fort was no more inclined toward this sort of foolery than Bryght was.
Then Bryght realized that Fort, too, must have recognized Portia. That might be useful, but it indicated a familiarity between them that Bryght did not like. And he certainly didn’t like the attention all this was causing.
A buzz of speculation was now running through the room because of the high price and the unusual bidders. Soon everyone would realize that there had to be a personal interest in this.
Bryght took a leisurely pinch of snuff and pitched his voice to carry. “Carrying ourfamily feuda little far, aren’t you, Walgrave? I have a wager here. I win double the price if I can make this morsel beg for consummation without so much as removing her clothing.”
That caused a wave of amused comment. The jaded company was intrigued, but now they would no longer wonder at events. In wagers no one looked for reason.
Fort strolled forward. “A wager, eh? And you worked the bidding high in the security that you would win.”
“I only ever play for high stakes, as you know.”
“Then overbid me.”
Bryght gritted his teeth. Fort had deep pockets and was in the mood for mischief. He would push the bidding into the thousands out of pure malice. Bryght would be happy to squeeze that sort of money out of Prestonly, but the matter would then be the talk of the town for months.
“It would be absurd to pay this chit a fortune, not to mention Mirabelle’s twenty percent. I’ll play you for her.”
Fort was now at Bryght’s side. “Play?” he queried.
“Dice. Highest roll.” Bryght proffered his snuff box and Fort took a leisurely pinch. Bryght murmured, “You recognize her?”
Fort’s eyes sharpened and he studied Hippolyta. Bryght realized then that he’d made a serious miscalculation. Fort had not recognized Portia, but had been motivated solely by a desire to thwart a Malloren. Damn.
Fort’s eyes widened. “Hell and the devil, you can’tbuyher.”
“What alternative?”
“Get her out of here.”
“Please do. I can’t see a way to rescue her without raising speculation.”
Fort muttered something. “I always knew her bold nature would land her in trouble.”
