“Torrance, don’t you mean you want her to lose?” Mark followed him. “I mean, I want you to lose and not find Miss Wilcox a mate.”
“For Lady Hampton to truly win is to gain the security and joy that comes with my protection, whether that be for a season or forever will be up to the betting gods. Come along, Sebastian. Let’s let the ladies lock up my coal company.”
“It’s not yours, Jahleel.” Katherine sneered at him like she wanted to slap him again.
His light olive skin still bore a red print along his jaw.
“It’s still ours,” I said. “It’s still Wilcox Coal.”
“And I know my sisters!” Katherine’s voice was loud. “You won’t find them a match.”
“Do svidaniya, ladies.”
The two left, and I turned to Katherine. Her emotions were so volatile, she shook. She wept.
I embraced her. Rocking her in my arms, I whispered, “What have you done?”
Chapter 30
MARK—EARLYWORMS OFMAYFAIR
As soon as the morning turned to a decent hour, I was on the steps of the Duke of Torrance’s Anya House. For the past three days, the man refused to talk of anything but some process to find Georgina a perfect match.
Perhaps today, a cooler head would prevail.
Mr. Steele greeted me in the hall. “Lord Mark. I didn’t think you’d come today. You were already excluded from the competition. Pity. I thought you and Miss Wilcox were a good match.”
If only my future bride thought the same. “Where is Torrance?”
After a footman took my hat and gloves, Steele led me to the dining room.
“His Grace is enjoying his breakfast. He has a good hearty appetite. Please don’t upset him.”
“What? Everything about this insane wager is upsetting.”
Steele offered me a patient smile. “Do you expect him to back down, to be a better man? Why? Why shouldn’t he do what he wishes and get what he wants? Any other man would act the same, why not the Duke of Torrance?”
Two wrongs, a thousand wrongs, made nothing right. “It’s a ridiculous wager. Miss Wilcox deserves better.”
“Are you saying better for her or better for you?”
“Steele, I’m talking principle.”
“Principles almost denied Torrance everything. If he wishes to act like the rest of the ton, doing what he thinks is best for pleasure or amusement or self-interest, so be it. Let him break eggs instead of walking on their shells.”
The butler knocked, announced me, and then let me in. Then he whispered, “Privilege looks different in darker hands.”
I stopped mid-step and wondered if my confusion was in fact that. Torrance had always been good-natured, extravagant, never cruel. It was unnerving to think of him acting like my father, uncaring about anyone but himself.
Regardless, I barged inside. “Torrance, we have to—”
Another surprise sat across the duke’s grand table. Livingston.
Goodness, no. This couldn’t be the duke’s pick. “Torrance, we need to speak. I assume you’ve calmed from earlier this week and can discuss things rationally.”
I pushed into the dining room the size of Mother Russia, where the duke sat at the head of a mahogany Chippendale table. He wore a long, fluid robe that had seed pearls lining the opening. It was artsy and bold, different from the immaculate waistcoats and trousers Torrance typically wore. He studied me as he forked at potatoes.
“Sebastian, I’m surprised you’ve come. Determined to join us? Sit.”
