“Why?”
“Gambling runs in our family. My dear, departed uncle fell prey to its lure. However, he forced the odds in his favor and cheated at a card game. That is something I won’t stoop to.”
“What does this have to do with Philip?”
“Lord Oxley played in the same card game and knows what he did. But he kept quiet because Oscar proposed to his daughter. Philip will have to honor that same promise in order to protect his father’s memory. Philip can’t propose to you, or he’d risk Oxley revealing the truth. That would ruin my uncle’s reputation, something Philip would never allow.”
Eliza released a slow breath, her faint hope of a future with Philip crumbling like an autumn leaf in the winter wind. “I see.”
But that didn’t change her current predicament. There had to be a way to convince Delbert his plan would fail or at least distract him so she could knock the knife from his hand.
She had to do something—anything—to protect Philip.
“Bolton, just the man I wanted to see,” Philip said as he entered the gallery and found his friend in the crowded lobby.
“Oh?” The earl lifted a brow. “You look as if you have something on your mind.”
“I do.” Philip looked around and leaned close, not wanting to be overheard. “Forgive me for being blunt, but were you trapped into marriage?”
Bolton chuckled. “Do you want the long answer or the short one?”
“The short one will do for now.” Philip had high hopes that Eliza was in attendance this evening and wanted to speak with her if she’d allow him to. But first, he needed to know how Bolton had ended up married sooner than anyone had expected.
Yet before his friend responded, the truth struck him like a blow. Eliza would never try to force him to marry her. It had been ridiculous of him to think so. She’d had more than one opportunity to arrange for them to be caught in a compromising situation but had gone out of her way to make certain they weren’t.
What had he been thinking?
“No.” Bolton’s gaze shifted to his wife who spoke animatedly with another lady. “I was not. In fact, you could argue that I am the one who trapped her.” He looked back at Philip. “Regardless of the details, I consider myself the luckiest of men. I hope you’re fortunate enough to enjoy a marriage like mine.”
The knot in Philip’s chest loosened and suddenly everything seemed clear. Before he could respond, a waiter appeared at his elbow.
“A message for you, Your Grace.” He bowed and offered a slip of paper to Philip then moved away.
I have something of yours.
Come to Room 12 alone.
M
Philip’s thoughts raced as he read the message. Markus had to have sent it. The question was what he had. Whatever it was, Philip knew he wouldn’t like it. Anger at his cousin took hold.
“Is something amiss?” Bolton asked.
“Yes, it is.” He read the word “alone” again. He might’ve done just that if Markus hadn’t ordered him to. “Might I ask for your assistance?”
“Of course.”
Before he could explain, another friend, Joseph Harris, Viscount Garland, joined them. “Good evening.” He looked between them. “Or perhaps it’s not. Whatever is wrong?”
“I am in need of help,” Philip said. “My cousin is apparently up to no good. If either or both of you would care to follow me to Room 12, we will see what he’s about.”
“Of course,” they both readily agreed. Bolton had a word with his wife to let her know where they were going, and Garland spoke with Lady Harriet, whom Philip had previously met, to do the same.
Nerves stretched taut, Philip led the way up the stairs to where the signs directed him only to pause. “I should mention that this could prove dangerous.”
“Then it’s good there are three of us,” Garland said with a grim smile.
Bolton nodded. “We will be prepared for whatever comes.”
