That was interesting. If this was about a man of four-and-twenty stepping into gaming halls over the disapproval of his family, she might as well have stayed home, though. He made a full pocket on the confidence of well-born dim lads twice a week, here in London. It didn’t hurt that everyone who dwelled south of Hadrian’s Wall thought him an ill-educated, brogue-spewing simpleton who couldn’t count to ten. That wastheirmistake. He attempted not to make any of those himself.
“Nothing to say?” she prompted.
Aden shrugged. “He’s a man with blunt and naeenough chores to keep himself occupied. I’d be surprised if he didnae spend some evenings at the tables.”
“Men,” she muttered beneath her breath, but he heard her reply quite clearly.
“If that’s all there is to the tale, Miss Harris, ye risked kissing me for nae good reason.” He’d made the wager on a whim, more or less, to see if the lass who claimed to detest him would turn tail. She hadn’t, which meant either that her troubles were worse than he’d assumed, or that the idea of a kiss wasn’t quite as off-putting as she’d let on. The contrary, challenge-loving part of him hoped it was the latter.
“He lost four hundred pounds and Father made him sell his hunter, Winterbourne, as punishment. Matthew adored that horse. He’d trained him from a colt.”
“I ken ye have sympathy for yer brother, but actions have consequences, lass. I reckon yer da did the right thing.”
She sent him a sharp look. “Yes, I’m aware of actions and consequences. I thought Matthew was, as well. For three years he’s stayed away from the tables. And then six weeks ago, I learned just last night, he made the acquaintance of a Captain Robert Vale, newly retired from His Majesty’s Navy.”
A shiver went down her shoulders, almost imperceptible, but enough for him to see. Aden sat forward a little. She’d reached the important part, then. This was where her distress came from. And she was a clever, bonny lass who’d already turned his head more than he cared to let her know. Miranda had come to see him out of pure desperation. She wouldn’t have bothered, otherwise.
“Do you know him?” she asked into the silence.
“The name doesnae sound familiar.”
“But he’s a keen gambler, evidently, and you’ve been in Town for nearly the same amount of time.”
“Do ye reckon every soul who wagers belongs to the same secret club or someaught?”
Her delicate brow furrowed. “How the devil should I know? All I do know is that he began as the cousin of a dear friend of Matthew’s, and six weeks later—as my brother informed me last night—he holds notes worth nearly fifty thousand pounds.”
Aden blinked. He’d known lads who played deep, well above their means, but even by those standards this was bloody extraordinary. “Are ye certain of that amount, lass? He didnae say five thousand pounds or five hun—”
“Of course I’m certain, Mr. MacTaggert.”
Aye, she would be. He’d known her for but two days, but nothing he’d seen led him to believe that Miranda Harris was the least bit foolish. “Fifty thousand, then. But if ye ken the debt, why do ye need more advice from me? If yer brother cannae pay, find someaught else this Vale will take as compensation. I reckon he’s aware he’ll nae see the entirety of the money. Most gamblers would be.”
“Captain Vale did find something he is willing to accept as compensation.” Her folded knuckles showed white, she had her hands knitted together so hard. “Me.”
His jaw clenched. Something hot and angry scratched down his spine. A dozen bits of conversation from last night and this morning fell into place, pieces of a puzzle now made whole. This, he hadn’t anticipated. And he didn’t like it. At all. He didn’t like that some stranger had built a trap against her brother and then demanded her in ransom.
Aside from being wrong, it was unfair to her. Her conversation was quick and sharp, alternately striking blows and showing gratitude—the dance of a clever mind. That was her problem now, he realized. She saw a trap, knew it to be a trap, hadn’t even stepped into it herself, but now she couldn’t find a way out of it.
There were other things, as well, that she hadn’t mentioned directly but that he could surmise—why this captain had pushed the debt so far, why she hadn’t learned anything about Matthew’s wagering until the trap had been sprung. “Ye reckon this Captain Vale has been after ye from the beginning,” he stated.
She nodded. “After my meeting with him this morning I have come to believe that, yes. I don’t know why; evidently, he saw me on the street six weeks ago when Matthew pointed me out to him. He wants instant respectability. The purchase of a respectable house in Mayfair and the acquisition of a respectable wife who might otherwise not have accepted his suit. His entrée into popularity and high Society, through me.”
“Did he tell ye all that, or did ye surmise it?”
“He told me. In well-considered detail. The only thing I don’t know is why he settled on me.” She stood up, for once abrupt and graceless, pacing to the billiards table and back again. “I offered him introductions to Society’s bastions, to my father’s clubs and friends, assistance in purchasing a house—anything I could conjure. He would not be swayed.”
As she spoke, an additional thing occurred to Aden. He and Coll were still required to wed before Eloise married Matthew, or their mother would cut off all funds to Aldriss Park. With what he’d just learned, a few carefully placed words would end his sister’s engagement faster than a cat could climb out of a water bucket. He and Coll could return to the Highlands, perhaps find lasses who hadn’t been raised in hothouses like delicate flowers. He’d taken their mother’s measure, now—she wanted to be a part of their lives. At the time she’d left the Highlands, requiring that they take Sassenach brides had seemed the surest way to do that.
Now, though, they and Francesca Oswell-MacTaggerthad had some time to become reacquainted. The countess wanted them to like her; to love her the way they had when they’d been wee bairns. He imagined it wouldn’t take much persuasion to convince her to allow them to marry whomever they wanted, as long as they gave their word to visit London once or twice a year.
So Miranda Harris had been trapped, and that trap could ensurehisfreedom. Except for one thing. In the back of his thoughts, teasing at him since their first conversation and growing in volume since their verbal and literal waltz last night, crept the feeling that he’d found his lass. If she genuinely disliked him he’d turn elsewhere, but beneath the sparring between them, perhaps even because of it, he felt… something. A slow, brewing lightning storm that made the hair lift on his arms and had him anticipating things he couldn’t yet put a name to.
Miranda seated herself in front of him again. “I won your wager. I expect something helpful from you.”
Her deep-brown eyes weren’t nearly as calm as her tone. Given that her dislike of wagering had likely tripled since yesterday, the fact that she’d sought him out spoke of several things, including just how worried she must be. Aden restacked the cards and shuffled them idly. “I’m guessing yer parents dunnae know any of what’s afoot?”
“No. They would disown Matthew. And the debt would remain.” She lowered her head briefly. “Captain Vale insists it look like a love match. He plans to take me to luncheon tomorrow, at precisely one o’clock. He’s very precise; that must come from his naval background.”
