Mr. Hopscotch shrugged nonchalantly. “There is always drama in a deathbed vow. It is the most talked-about wager in London—and with good reason, is it not?”
“I have no idea,” Bray said tightly.
“Perhaps it doesn’t take much to amuse Londoners. But you do know whattheysay.” The man paused.
Bray deliberately took the bait and said, “No, what dotheysay?”
“A promise made is a debt unpaid, and some people don’t think the duke will pay this debt. The Prince happens to think you will. Naturally, he knew your father well and knows you are as honorable as your father. He has no doubt you will do the right thing and wed Miss Prim.”
Just so the Prince can win a wager?
Bray knew the Prince’s arrogance had few boundaries, but this was actually off the charts.
“If I don’t, I’m sure he will recover from the losses,” Bray offered.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
That’s what Bray was afraid of. “How so?”
“That isn’t for you to know. The Prince will take care of everything else. All you need to do is what you are honor-bound to do anyway, and that is to marry Miss Prim—and by the end of the Season. Can I have your word on that?”
“No,” Bray said without hesitating. “I don’t make promises anymore. You can tell that to the Prince.”
“That is not the answer he wants me to take back to him.”
“I understand. But that’s it.”
Just hours ago, Bray had told Miss Prim she would have to propose to him, so there was no way he was going back to her and asking her once again to marry him. Not even for the Prince. Miss Prim was a strong-minded young lady and would not be easily swayed from her stance or fooled.
“Why?” Mr. Hopscotch held out his hands. “It is a simple matter to you. You live up to your word as your father before you always lived up to his word.”
Bray’s jaw tightened. He needed no lectures about honor. He’d received enough of them when he was growing up. Besides, he’d done the honorable thing. He’d told Miss Prim he was willing to marry her. She was the one who had other ideas. And he was happy she did.
“I don’t take marriage lightly, and neither does Miss Prim.”
“Of course. Take your time so long as you make the Prince happy by the end of the Season.” Mr. Hopscotch rose. “He wants you to know he will be forever in your debt and at your service should you ever need him. Now, I hope to see proof of your upcoming nuptials in print in the next few days. Good day, Your Grace.”
“The devil take it.” Bray swore under his breath as he watched the robust man casually walk away as if they had talked about nothing other than the lousy weather. What the hell was the Prince trying to do in strong-arming him about Miss Prim?
Everyone knew Bray wasn’t easily intimidated. Not by Mr. Hopscotch or the Prince. But he shouldn’t be surprised that the Prince thought he could easily coerce him into doing his bidding, because most people would jump at the chance to please the Prince. They had both better think again. Not even his father had been successful in making Bray do anything he didn’t want to do.
He picked up his wine and downed half of it. The Prince would just have to do what every other gentleman did and pay his own gambling debts or suffer the consequences.
Whatever they may be.
Bray had no doubt he could eventually talk Miss Prim into marrying him, but did he want to? At least he now knew she was more than attractive and would not be an unwelcome bedmate. He smiled as he thought of her sparkling blue eyes, tousled sunset-colored hair, and full desirable lips. No, he’d have no problem at all taking Miss Prim into his bedchamber.
Bray looked around the room for a server so he could order another glass of wine and saw Seaton leaning against the doorframe. His arms were folded across his chest, and one foot lay crossed over the other ankle. He looked quite perturbed.
“Oh, hell,” Bray whispered to himself. The next time he wanted a drink and a little peace, he’d have to go home to find them.
Chapter 7
Strong reasons make strong actions.
—King John,act 3, scene 4
It was a usual start to her day.
