Page 100 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Wonderful. The compliment worked. For about ten seconds. “But I have a question. Several actually.”

“Excellent,” he said as he rolled up the map of London and passed it to her. “Let us go for a stroll. I should be happy to discuss whatever you like.” Away from the too-intelligent gazes of her parents.

“No, my lord, it is something they should hear.”

Damnation, she was being stubborn. “The marriage settlement has not been determined.”

“Nor will it be until—”

“Mari, we have both been awake through the night. Can’t this wait?” Until after they’d both slept. After they’d thought things through. After she was past the overwrought emotions that were upsetting her reason.

“Did you read my father’s ledger?”

Oh. Blast and damnation. Far from getting things all wrong, the brilliant woman had worked it out right.

He glanced at her father, seeing the man’s shocked expression. Fortunately, his wife was more gullible. The woman threw up her hands in clear disgust.

“Mari, what a thing to say! Your father was just imagining it.”

“I was not,” the man growled. Then he took a step closer to his daughter. “Why would you ask this? Do you have any evidence?”

She pressed her mouth closed and shook her head. But her eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Well,” her mother exclaimed, “I can see you are one of those women who become irrational after staying awake all night. Young lady, I insist that you head straight for bed.”

Mari rolled her eyes. “I am not twelve years old.”

“You can’t just accuse people of—”

“He was a thief in India. He told me so. A very good one, adept at getting into places he was not supposed to go.”

Her father huffed. “That means he can get in, not that he did.”

“I told him, Papa. I told him where you kept your ledger.”

“What?”

“I told him,” she said in a low whisper. “And I am so very sorry about that.”

Peter pinched the space between his brows. Damn it, this was not the way he meant to explain things to her. And certainly not with this audience.

“Even so,” her mother continued, “that is not evidence.”

Mari nodded, her gaze still centered on him. “I don’t have to prove it. I just have to ask him, and he’ll tell me. Did you steal into the house and look at my father’s ledger, recording things that you have no right to know?”

How to answer that except with the truth? “Yes.” He wanted to say more. Hell, there were a thousand different explanations, but when it came time to voice them, the words crowded each other out. All he could see was the pain in her face. “Mari, I needed to know. I took nothing but the information, and I haven’t shared that with anyone.”

“Why?” she said, her voice a rasp.

“And how?” demanded her father.

That was the easiest thing of all. He’d been here as a guest enough times to know the lay of the land. He’d waited until the staff was occupied below stairs while the family was out for the evening. But they didn’t need those details. “I learned to be an accomplished visitor in India, amusing when called upon and absent when out of mind.”

“Because you were digging around where you didn’t belong,” her father said.

“Yes.”

“In my ledgers.” Her father leaned forward, his expression angry. “Did you think I was lying about her dowry?”