CHAPTER5
TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY
David felt a twinge deep in his chest. A sensation he had never before experienced. He had spoken with a woman. He had kissed her. Agreed to make her his wife. And now she was agreeing with him when it came to dealing with her guardian.
Could it be he was already in love with her? Was that even possible? They had only just met!
Richard stared at Marian until she lifted her chin in defiance. “Isn’t it far better I marry a man you already know and respect instead of a stranger? One of your friends?” she asked in a quiet voice.
Although most of the other card players in the parlor had returned their attentions to their games, a few were watching and listening to the interchange between Richard, David, and Marian as if the trio were performing a play at one of the nearby theatres.
About to answer, Richard couldn’t when one of the female onlookers called out, “I say let her marry him, if she really wants him.”
“Me, as well,” a man yelled from the next table over. Murmurs and nods of agreement passed through the other gaming tables as if on a wave.
“I say let him marry her,” a male voice said from the far corner.
Holding up a staying hand, Richard directed his answer to the others in the room. “I haven’t said they couldn’t marry,” he claimed. “There might have to be some conditions is all.”
“Yeah. A dowry,” the first cat-caller said, loud enough for everyone to hear. A chorus of chuckles sounded around the room, although the comment had Richard’s brows furrowing deeper than they had been.
“That is a consideration,” Richard agreed.
“You set me up,” Marcus accused, hitting the earl on the arm with the back of his hand.
“Wot?” Richard turned to stare at the viscount. “I did no such thing.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Marcus countered, crossing his arms over his chest so they rested on his protruding belly.
Marian’s eyes rounded. “What does he mean by that, Uncle?” she asked.
Before Richard could respond, Marcus said, “We had a wager.”
David grasped Marian’s gloved hand, glad when she didn’t attempt to pull it away. With the attentions of all the onlookers, he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “What sort of wager?” he asked, his manner tentative. He aimed a suspicious glance in Richard’s direction before he redirected his glare onto the viscount.
“It’s merely a harmless bet,” Richard replied, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s recorded in the betting book at White’s. Has been for over a year.”
“Whatsortof wager?” David repeated, this time slower and louder. Apparently, anxiousness was good at overcoming shyness, for at that moment, he didn’t care who might hear the earl’s answer.
“Uncle?” Marian whispered, her own brows furrowing before she glanced over at David with worry.
Marcus uncrossed his arms and leaned over the table as far as his belly would allow. “I bet him a hundred pounds you wouldn’t be married before you were five-and-thirty,” he admitted. “And Dicky here bet a hundred youwouldbe married by then. ”
“No names, you idiot,” Richard whispered. “We’re in the Soho Club.”
Marcus directed a glare in the earl’s direction. “Nothing is to be said by anyone beyond the club about what goes on here, so what’s the problem?” he countered. “Besides, what the hell am I supposed to call you?”
Ignoring the query, Richard waved both his hands over the table. “Please sit down, you two. I’d rather we discuss this in private.”
David held Marian’s chair for her and then took the chair next to hers. Once he was settled, he felt for her hand under the table and pulled it into his own. He glanced over at her, dismayed to see her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Since I am three-and-thirty years of age, you stand to collect one-hundred pounds if I marry your niece in the next year or so. I would like to do so within a...” He glanced over at her. “Within a month, if you’re in agreement, my sweet.”
“Oh, I would like that very much,” Marian replied, a smile replacing the look of uncertainty that had appeared upon the revelation there was a wager involved.
Richard said, “Yes, yes, that would do nicely, except?—”
“Not for me,” Marcus protested.
The earl straightened in his chair. “So you’ll owe me one hundred pounds,” he said with a shrug, his eyes rolling before they settled on the viscount. “I’ve already won that much from you whilst playing whist today” he added with a shrug.
