There. He’d said it. He’d voiced the thought that had taunted him all afternoon.
The first time the idea niggled at him, he’d just begun reading over the Carlisle estate books two days ago. And as the extent of his predecessor’s debts grew in his mind, so did the idea.
He hated that he’d entertain such a notion nearly as much as he hated the debts themselves.
Justin paced across the room again. He would not take more charity.
If he won the despicable wager, he would be protecting his betrothed from all those other cads with their eye on such a large pot. He’d then be able to provide for her, for her family, for his cousins. He could bolster his new estate.
Each time he considered it, he wanted to vomit.
“I’m a blasted vicar, Dev! What kind of an example would this set?” Justin rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck, knowing his cousin watched him closely. Was even Dev judging him this very moment?
Dev didn’t answer, rather watched patiently as Justin crossed the room again.
“But the wager is a danger to her as well,” Justin defended the idea. “You’re more familiar with the so-called gentlemen involved. Will they call it off if she marries?”
Dev grimaced. “For seventy thousand pounds? I doubt it.”
Justin wanted to punch something. He had never been a violent man, but this afternoon he’d gladly pound the bastard who’d initiated it into the ground.
Except he didn’t know who that was. It didn’t matter at this point anyhow. The person who most likely deserved a facer was dead.
St. John. For leading her on. For taking advantage of her affection. And then for not keeping the information to himself.
“I ought to do it then.” Except participating in this damnable wager went against everything he’d ever stood for.
“Will you tell her?”
Tell her? And then take her virtue? Or what was left of it?
God, the mere thought of exposing such intimate information about her… Justin shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you’ll tell her, or you don’t know if you’ll participate in the wager yourself?” Dev understood him all too well.
“Neither.” Justin scrubbed a hand through his hair again. “Both.”
Dev lifted a decanter from the corner of his desk. “A drink then?”
Justin was about to take him up on the offer when the sounds of horses on the pavement outside reminded him why he’d come in the first place. “I’m to take her for a drive this afternoon.” With a glance at the clock, he moved toward the door. “I’m late already.”
“Justin.” Dev’s voice gave him pause. “I’d avoid the park.”
“Hell and damnation,” Justin spoke the words on a harsh exhale. He could only imagine what Miss Mossant faced next time she stepped out in society. “My thanks for the reminder.”
To Be Betrothed or Not To Be Betrothed
Despite the turmoil rolling around inside him, Justin couldn’t deny the anticipation he felt at seeing Rhoda again.
His heart jumped at the thought of hearing her voice, at watching the shifting emotions behind her brandy-colored gaze. His eyes hungered to drink in the curve of her neck and shoulders and hips. He cleared his throat self-consciously as he waited in the foyer of her mother’s house.
The butler had assured him she’d only be a moment.
Rustling at the top of the stairs drew his immediate attention. She’d changed out of the gown she’d had on this morning. She’d been wearing maroon then, but this afternoon, she was a blaze of gold.
Earlier, her hair had been drawn back into a tight chignon at the nape of her neck. She’d appeared stern, almost like a teacher or a governess.
Since then, she’d pinned it up loosely, allowing curling tendrils to caress her cheeks and jaw.
