“You didn’t say medieval dress for breakfast.”
“Didn’t invite you, Sebastian. But sit.”
The duke waved me to the table set with immaculate china and glass goblets.
“Sebastian, are you here to provide intelligence on Miss Wilcox? Share her likes and dislikes? That information would be useful.”
Useful to pick a man who wasn’t me. The duke had to be otherworldly if he thought I’d offer any nugget for another to woo the most beautiful girl in the world.
“I don’t believe I know Miss Wilcox well enough to offer that opinion. I will help where I can.” There, that sounded good and vague.
“Have some breakfast, Sebastian. There’s a wide selection.”
The table was filled with every imaginable type of roll and croissant and muffin. The egg dish looked savory and delectable, but so did the plate of potatoes. Potatoes that smelled like chocolate. “What is that?”
“Kartoshka, my favorite dessert. Miss Wilcox intends to make them for me. It is sponge cake crumbled and molded with cream and dipped in chocolate. Her biscuits are fine. I suppose her kartoshka will be amazing.”
Although having never had Georgie’s biscuits—I was sure that’s what he spoke of—I didn’t have an appetite. “Not hungry, Your Grace. I came to talk about this bet and the conditions and see if there’s a way to convince you not to go through with this.”
“You want me to lose?” He glared at me over his goblet. Then, he again pointed to a chair. “I’m curious as to why. I thought it was in both our best interests that Georgina Wilcox is given her heart’s desire.”
“Well, yes, but having you select whom she’s to marry doesn’t seem wise.”
“I’m of the opinion that a woman, given the proper amount of information, can make a rational decision.”
Livingston chuckled, his laugh cold and sober. “Torrance has a number of very interesting ideas that he’s going to test. I’ll help to make this scientific.”
“Are you one of the candidates, Livingston? I thought you were against marriage.”
“Heavens, no.” He stabbed at a piece of beef and put it into his mouth. Then he grabbed two kartoshkas. Taking his time, chewing everything slowly, he delayed before delivering his full answer.
“I’m very much against ever marrying again. My support of Torrance’s experiment does not change that. However, I’d love a scientific approach on the matter. Understanding how the female mind makes this type of selection will be important for me. Then I can always avoid their traps.”
Why were they both like this?
About to turn and leave, I was struck by the similarities between the earl and the duke. Both surely had had women break their souls. The loss of love or a relationship had turned them into sour beings.
Would that be me if Georgina married someone else?
“A logical process,” Livingston said. “I will help Torrance select the perfect candidate for Miss Wilcox. Logically, she shouldn’t be able to say no. He’ll surely win his wager.”
“Sebastian, our friend understands winning is important. But as I was explaining to Livingston, this must be a big scientific test. Can logical beings, like ourselves, influence emotional women into saying yes to an ideal candidate?”
“Does that mean you both are invested in finding the right husband for Georgina Wilcox? You don’t care if Miss Wilcox is happy as long as you win the wager?”
“I do care,” Torrance said, “but I must win this bet. We all should be happy with the right husband being selected and me winning.”
Livingston nodded and cleared his plate. “This shall be fun.”
Frustrated that I couldn’t get through to either man, I flopped into the chair. It took everything in me not to bash their heads together. This flawed experiment could hurt Georgina. Whether she would be mine or not, that woman deserved to be happy.
Livingston stood, dusted his fingers of cocoa, then pushed in his chair. “I’ve spread the word at my club—”
“Oh, no. More gamblers.”
“Sebastian, let the earl finish.”
Livingston clasped the lapels of his dark blue jacket and proceeded to strut. “As I was saying . . . men at my club and some from the Royal Society have been invited. We should have a good crowd this afternoon. Excuse me, gentlemen, I’m going to prepare—”
