Please don’t do this!Rhoda begged silently. She did not want bloodshed over her. She knew enough guilt to last a lifetime. She wanted to step between the two of them. No! No! If anything were to happen to Justin because of her stupid decision last year, it would kill her.
“You wouldn’t know innocence if it jumped up and bit that arrogant ass of yours.” Justin took a step closer. He now stood inches from Kensington.
“Or if I cut off half your bollocks.” The third voice sounded terrifyingly familiar.
Oh, good God! Cecily! No!
A gentleman beside Prescott whipped his head around to see who’d dare to say anything so impudent, as did Kensington.
Justin was undeterred from his mission, however. “Hold your tongue, Kensington, or I’ll meet you at dawn.”
The gentleman who’d stared so hard at Cecily turned his attention back to Lord Kensington. “Flave. I’ve no control over your behavior, but I do hold the strings to the funds you’ve chosen to wager with.” Mr. Nottingham! Cecily’s husband! No wonder he’d stared at her so hard.
This was Rhoda’s chance. The pen had grown damp against her palm. She need only turn and carefully scrawl the signature she’d been practicing for three days now.
“She’s not worth it.” Lord Kensington’s voice raised an octave as he responded to Justin. Perhaps the earl’s confidence was dissipating at the memory of the last duel he’d participated in. “I’ll not speak of her again, but have my word, the winnings shall fall to me.”
Not if I have any say in the matter.
His bragging prodded her into action. She would save herself. She would make Justin the winner so that he could pay off the debts of his estate.
What was the name?Dorwich. Dorwich.
She set the tip of the pen to parchment but couldn’t make her fingers move.
The disappointment she’d seen on Justin’s face, when he’d learned of her and Emily’s machinations at Eden’s Court, froze her hand.
She’d betrayed him.
Would he trust her again if she did this?
Trust me?
She shivered as she remembered how his breath had stirred the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck.
Please.
He’d corrected his demand and turned it into a request.
Blast.
Rhoda stared at her hand as it hovered over the book. It was shaking. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and a bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck.
Please, he’d said.
What’s It Gonna Be?
Justin could not remember the last time he’d been so angry. He was a man who preferred to settle disputes with rational conversation, open-mindedness, and understanding.
He’d wanted to plow his fist through Kensington’s face.
Even now, marching through a small path he’d found himself on in the park, his blood boiled. He’d like nothing better than to use his sword to cut off what remained of that bastard’s manhood.
Damned if he even deserved to be called a man. Kensington possessed the mental capabilities of an adolescent but, due to his place in society, wielded power and influence. Both of which ought only ever be afforded to individuals who’d proven themselves deserving by exhibiting wisdom and character.
He swiped his walking stick at a branch that dared to dangle in his way. Each day that damn bet persisted dishonored her.
Endangered her.
