Page 33 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Oh,” she said softly. “He’s thinking of selling his horse too, isn’t he? How very sad.”

“How did you know that?” Lord Whitly asked, his tone surprised.

“He never makes a show of himself. But since he did just then…”

“You deduced it was to show his horse, not himself.”

She nodded. “I had hoped his finances were in better frame.”

“The title’s on solid footing,” Lord Whitly said, his eyes canting away. “But he’s feeling the pinch. It’s only temporary, and he’s doing the right things to keep the ship afloat, so to speak.”

“By hunting for an heiress?”

His gaze leapt to hers. “You know?”

She sighed. “Of course I know. It’s the only reason titled gentlemen attend me.”

“You underestimate your allure.”

She nodded and looked away. He’d spoken a routine compliment, and so she took it as meaningless. And yet he pursued the topic. “You’re clever, beautiful, and well-dowered. I cannot understand why you haven’t been dragged to the altar by one such as him.”

“An impoverished gentleman?”

“A man with the good sense to see what you’re worth beyond your father’s money.” He cast her a sidelong look. “Is it your father or yourself who has been shutting the matrimonial door on so many suitors?”

She startled at his words, a little flustered by his plain speaking. “I…um, both, I suppose. My father will not countenance a fortune hunter.” Neither would she. It was, after all, the first thing she’d written on her list.

“And well he shouldn’t.” His gaze narrowed. “But could you overrule him? If your heart led you to a man, would you be able to persuade him to allow it?”

She stiffened. “I am eight and twenty, well into my majority, and able to marry as I please.”

He nodded as if he had suspected as much. “Your heart hasn’t engaged.”

“Don’t be silly. A child follows her heart. A woman in Society needs a clever mind.”

“And yours has not been seduced.” He showed no embarrassment in speaking about seducing her.

“My mind is ever my own.”

He nodded as if her words held extra meaning. They didn’t, so she took her chance to demand her forfeit.

“I was startled to see you leave last night,” she said as they turned their horses around on the path. Riding in London was distressingly restrictive. There was no room to wander, and all the while, other, more skillful riders were constantly galloping past. “Do you avoid paying your forfeit?”

He reacted as she expected, with a jolt and a dark frown. “What? Never!”

“You did leave rather precipitously.”

“Yes, I did,” he acknowledged as he rubbed at his chin. “But it had nothing to do with you.”

She twisted enough to stare directly at him. Thankfully, it eased some of the strain from sitting sidesaddle.

“Then why?”

“I learned that my father was in the cardroom. I never thought he’d be at a come-out ball, but he was.”

“So you left?”

He gave her an awkward shrug. “I trust that you will not bandy this about. It’s not so much that we cannot stand one another. Well, it is, but no more than the usual father and son.”