Sophie’s eyes danced, knowing she was being baited, while Phoebe gritted her teeth.
‘Well, last week I wagered Isabella Hampton that she was too polite to refuse to stand up with Lord Endercott– the gentleman over there with dubious facial whiskers– and I was right!’ she offered with a note of triumph. ‘She said they only danced a boring old cotillion towards the end of the evening, but that’sstilla dance, as well we all know.’
‘But of course it is,’ Lord Rotherby agreed, his lips twitching. ‘And dubious facial whiskers you say? I can’t say I’d noticed, but now you’ve mentioned them, I can’t see anything else. Poor, unfortunate Lord Endercott!’
‘Lord Rotherby,’ Phoebe enunciated carefully, ‘I’ve just seen one of the patrons to whom we owe an introduction and I believe?—’
‘But of course, Viscountess,’ Lord Rotherby said assuringly, ‘such matters should never be delayed. But before you go, I should like to propose a small wager of my own, in full and open acknowledgement ofFairfax family prowess when it comes to wagers.’ He paused while Sophie chuckled delightedly. ‘I wager that you will both find your dance cards overflowing this evening, which is why I’d like to claim one from each of you before they reach that perilous stage. And if that is not appropriate for Miss Sophie Fairfax, then I trust you would have no objection, Viscountess, as you are already quite immune to the villains and predators of Almack’s?’
‘My sister does not manage my dance card, sir,’ Sophie replied swiftly, ‘and I should be delighted!’
She sank into her prettiest curtsey, while her sister met the amused rake’s gaze with exasperation. Sophie watched curiously. Lord Rotherby was one of few people she’d ever known to meet her sister’s challenge squarely, and he undoubtedly knew what wasappropriatedespite any pretence otherwise. He was also ridiculously handsome with enviable cheekbones, thick, satirical eyebrows and dark, velvet eyes– which he knew exactly how to use to his advantage– and yet, despite all this charm, she was convinced he intended no real mischief at all.
‘I am honoured, Miss Fairfax. Viscountess?’ Lord Rotherby queried, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Phoebe inclined her head abruptly, though Sophie could tell she was torn between not wishing to start any gossip and itching to give him a blazing set-down.
‘I consider myself most fortunate, and before you think me the dullest bachelor in the room, I would like to propose one last wager,’ he added.
‘No one could ever think you dull, Lord Rotherby!’ Sophie reassured swiftly.
‘I am most relieved to hear it,’ he replied with a smile. ‘And my wager is this, Miss Sophie of the refreshingly forthright Fairfaxes: you shall have a dozen suitors fighting over your hand before the month is out!’
She chuckled delightedly.
‘Oh, my lord, you are truly incorrigible! But you know I can’t acceptthatwager for I am determined to make a love match, and nothing else shall suffice.’
‘A love match!Quelle surprise!’ Lord Rotherby replied curiously. ‘For they are quite rare on the marriage mart. Your own fabledcircumstances are quite the exception, of course, Viscountess Damerel.’
Phoebe’s eyes darkened suspiciously. ‘Indeed, if the tale of your whirlwind engagement and marriage was not doing the rounds,’ he pressed on, ‘I’d be quite inclined to say such a thing does not exist at all.’
‘Oh, but of course it exists!’ Sophie exclaimed, ignoring her sister’s pained expression.
‘How else do you explain music or poetry or… or the happiness of those fortunate enough to experience it? It’s so real that it’s visible!’
‘Well then,’ Lord Rotherby replied with a faint smile, ‘I’ll amend my wager to this Miss Fairfax: I wager you’ll choose to marry for any reasonother thanloveby the end of the season! And the reason I’m wagering this,’ he continued, despite Sophie’s protest, ‘is that while the ambition you describe may seem noble, even the strongest of attachments rarely last a lifetime. Far better you spend your time pursuing a title and land for, unlike love, they are likely to yield a much more profitable return.’
‘Lord Rotherby!’ Phoebe and Sophie protested in unison.
‘Wager accepted!’ Sophie added furiously. ‘I said I’ll make a love match, and I will.’
He smiled and inclined his head. ‘Well then, we’ll consider our wager sealed, and I look forward to your endeavours on the marriage mart. I have no doubt you will be a sparkling success, Miss Fairfax, whomever you settle upon. Until the cotillion, and perhaps the Strauss, Viscountess?’ he concluded, his noble lips pressed into a faint smile.
Then before either of them could respond, he turned and disappeared through the crush.
‘Sophie!’ Phoebe hissed, the moment he was out of earshot.
‘We’ve barely been here above five minutes, and you’ve broken just about every debutante rule that exists!’
‘I was only enjoying myself,’ Sophie returned defensively. ‘The last time I checked, that was still permissible. And anyway, you didn’t refuse to dance!’
‘How could I, after you’d accepted?’ Phoebe retorted. ‘And I’m certain hiswagerwould be considered fast too!’
She groaned and seized another lemonade from a passing footman.
‘Really, Phoebe!’ Sophie glared, ‘I’m so surprised at you. Whatever happened to forgetting the rules and running away to find your inner heroine?! At least I’ve not stolen Fred’s breeches, or drunk too much, or found myself in a duel with a common highwayman!’
‘That was different!’ Phoebe countered, much to the interest of three young ladies nearby.
