“So,it seems this year, she’s selected you. She’s taken her time thisyear.” He raked his gaze over Stephen. “Perhaps she finds somethingof interest in you.”
Studying Sutton,Ash finally said, “Last year, didn’t she choose you?”
Anger flared inSutton’s eyes before he quashed it. “We chose each other. She wasamusing for a time.” Sutton levelled his gaze on Stephen. “She willhave you wrapped around her finger before a fortnight haspassed.”
Christ, what didhe care? They had spoken for less than ten minutes, and it had beenclear she’d had a game in mind. While he’d been tempted for amoment, he had left such things behind years ago. Let her choosehim. It didn’t mean he had to play his part.
Sutton pointedat him. “A hundred pounds she has you panting after her bymid-September.”
Seriously? Hewished a wager? “You do realise this is juvenile?”
“Thebetting books are filled with pettier wagers. Do youagree?”
“Fora hundred pounds where I can completely control the outcome?Certainly.” If Sutton wanted to throw his money away, he wasn’tgoing to stop him. A hundred pounds would pay a half-dozenfoundation administrators’ wages for a year.
“Can’t just avoid her, though. In fact, let’s make thisinteresting. You have to court her.”
“Fine.”
“And, if you can get her to show a marked preference for you,I’ll even throw in an extra hundred.”
Stephen staredat him. “You would have me toy with her emotions.”
Sutton smiledthinly. “Two hundred pounds, Farlisle.”
In thebackground, Fairfax and Montford argued over who’d scored the mostpoints while Pinet still lounged in the armchair. Two hundredpounds. He could do a lot with two hundred pounds, but the thoughtof manipulating the emotions of the intriguing woman with the cat’seyes and magnificent bosom left him with an astringent taste. But,two hundred pounds... “I agree, Sutton.”
“Bythe end of the season, you’ll be completely enthralled by her,devastated and weeping, and I’ll collect my hundred pounds. Or,you’ll haveherdevastated and weeping, and you’ll be twohundred pounds richer.”
“Ifyou say so.”
Sutton nodded.“I shall enter it in the betting book. If you will excuse me.”Executing a sharp bow, he strode through the door.
Ash caughtStephen’s arm. “This is a bad idea. When has a wager of this natureever turned out well? You’re involving someone else, without herconsent or consideration of how she will feel. Are you sure you arewilling to bear the consequences?”
Heshrugged.
Disappointmentshaped Ash’s features. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“No.You can’t.” And then, because he did like Ash, he gave ahalf-smile. “Trust me, Ash.”
“Youhave a plan?”
“Half of one. The rest will come to me.” He lifted his cue.“Now, shall we trounce Montford and Fairfax atbilliards?”
Chapter Six
ARMS CROSSED OVER HIS chest, Stephen trained his gazeon the ballroom’s entrance. He’d arrived over an hour ago,situating himself at his current vantage and setting to wait forLady Seraphina’s arrival. Though she had yet to make her entrance,he counted his time well spent, if only for the observations he’dmade thus far.
A contessa—hecould not recall the name to go with the title and would no doubtmangle it in any event as his Italian was shocking—had stoodimpatiently for the majordomo to announce her and shot him ahaughty look once he did so. A group of young men had loitered nearthe entrance, elbowing and jostling each other as each youngdebutante entered the ballroom to join her friends in giggling andcasting surreptitious glances their way. Finally, one youth,spurred on by his friends, separated from the pack and approach oneof the young ladies. Puffing up his chest, he’d bowed low over herhand and asked something, most likely to dance. The girl haddissolved into giggles, as did her friends, but she’d blushinglyaccepted and, with a triumphant smile at his peers, the young manled her to the dance floor.
A faint smilecurved his lips. A dozen years ago, that could have been him andHarb—
Cutting off thethought before it could form, he swallowed past the lump in histhroat.
Deliberately, heturned his focus to the ballroom entrance. There was no clock inview, but it had to be approaching eleven o’clock, and he hadn’teschewed society long enough not to know arriving fashionably latewas raison d’être to some. Lady Seraphina Waller-Mitchell, itseemed, was included in that number.
“TheEarl of Ashburton.”
