Chase contemplated the marquess and then nodded. “And when I win, it will be my pleasure to see you do the same.”
Greys nodded.
From a tall chair in the corner, Stone Spencer, a mere mister, shook his head. “Count me out of this one. She may be beddable, but she is far from sheddable. Pity the man she sinks her talons into. He’ll spend the remainder of the house party strategizing evasive maneuvers in order to escape her. Besides, women are far too unpredictable to bet on. I’d rather take my chances on a horse, or any animal, hell even an insect is preferable.” Stone lifted his glass toward the window. “See that moth in the window? I’m willing to bet twenty pounds that the first place he lands will be on one of the flowers in your sister’s hair.” Stone’s wager piqued Jules’ interest far more than Chase’s had.
“Which one?” Jules located his two sisters near the window, taking note of the floral concoctions woven into both of their coiffures. They were mostly blocking the lady with whom they were conversing—except for the top of her head, which was a garish reddish-orange color. He’d never seen anything as bright and found himself almost offended by it.
“Lady Tabetha’s,” Stone answered.
Tabetha was the more vivacious of his sisters. She had bouncing blond ringlets and tended to overstep the boundaries set for a young lady her age more often than not. Jules cringed at the thought that she’d be making her come-out that spring. If only she could be more like Bethany, who at two and twenty—three years older than Tabby—was levelheaded, calm, and practical where gentlemen preferred.
His gaze dropped to Bethany’s right hand where she was tapping each finger to her thumb, counting God knows what. Her oddities might make her a little eccentric, but they were harmless. She paused her tapping to reach across and adjust one of Tabetha’s ringlets and Tabetha rolled her eyes.
Bethany might need to tone down some of her impulses if he was ever to marry her off. Such fussiness could deter most gentlemen before they realized what a gem she was. Jules sighed.
Being guardian to his sisters wasn’t something he’d planned on and was proving increasingly more complicated.
He pushed those concerns away in favor of the business at hand. The moth was far more likely to land in the fiery-colored hair of Tabby’s companion. If it landed at all. It was a good bet to take.
“Very well,” Jules agreed and all six of them transfixed themselves immediately on the antics of the destination of a common house moth.
It hovered near one of the pink roses in Bethany’s hair but just as it went to land, the redheaded woman shooed it away. Her hands, he noticed, were slim and pale and ringless.
A few groans from their corner drew a suspicious glance from Bethany. Ah, yes, Bethany no doubt guessed that they were betting. She wouldn’t know what they were betting on though, smart as she was. He couldn’t help but chuckle to stymie her.
“A time limit is necessary,” Blackheart, the duke amongst them, commented. “Shall we allow the creature two minutes before Jules wins by default?”
“Ninety seconds.” Stone sent a questioning glance in Jules’ direction. Jules nodded and Blackheart reached for his timepiece.
The moth fluttered back into the curtains at the same time his sisters changed their positions just enough that he could partially see the profile of the scarlet-haired girl.
She wore flowers in her hair as well—large white daisies that contrasted vividly with the red and amber strands they’d been pinned to. Odds were definitely in his favor that the bloody Lepidoptera would be attracted to such a bright spectacle.
He turned his attention back to the moth.
It flitted, hovered around one of the white daisies, but just as it went to land, the girl, whose hair he would wager was the exact color of a ladybug, brushed it away again. And then, as though she sensed she was being watched, she turned and stared in his direction.
Even from a distance, he could easily see the color of her eyes. Brilliant green. What with her hair and her pale skin, they were rather striking, really. Jules resisted the urge to loosen his cravat, which suddenly seemed tighter than it had a moment before, and instead dipped his chin offering the barest form of acknowledgment.
She held his gaze for a moment before dropping her lashes and directing her attention back to his sisters.
“Right there, little fellow,” Stone encouraged the moth almost under his breath.
Jules exhaled, almost relieved that she’d turned away.
“Excellent!” Stone held up a clenched fist.
“Hell and damnation,” Jules cursed in disgust when it settled happily in the center of Tabetha’s blond coiffure.
Stone bent his elbow and lifted a fist in victory. “Double or nothing?”
“Of course.” Jules narrowed his eyes at the moth. And for the next twenty minutes, his debt piled up so much as to give Jules reason to wonder if all insects, or just this one in particular, had it out for him.
“How much is that now?” he groused when the damned thing thwarted him again, having been swatted at by Miss Ladybug.
Again.
“Who is that gel, anyhow?”
