Page 41 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Five minutes later, she and her suitor were walking at a fast pace down the street. It wasn’t so fast as to be rushing, but it was certainly faster than a pair ought to walk on a casual stroll.

But then Mr. Camden was of a hurried nature. It was a telltale symptom of the rising rich. One that Lady Eleanor often deplored. Gentlemen who had things to do and places to be were most assuredly not aristocrats bred to enjoy the leisurely pace of their class. Therefore, if Miss Powel wished to catch a peer, she must never appear rushed.

Sadly, at this particular moment, Mr. Camden set the pace.

“It’s a beautiful day, don’t you think? I adore a slow stroll on a sunny day, don’t you?” For emphasis, she tilted her face toward the sun.

“Careful,” he warned. “Don’t want your skin turning brown.”

Right. His mother was fond of skin-bleaching creams and had given a pot to Mari as a kind gesture. Or a hint. It was hard to tell which. Nevertheless, Mari looked down from the blue sky and waited for Mr. Camden to get to the point. It took him another two hurried blocks before he finally managed it.

“I have had some very exciting news, Miss Powel. Very exciting indeed.”

“I am breathless with anticipation.”

“I had a frank discussion with Lord Rossgrove. Do you know of him? He’s been very active in my circle, intimate with the men who watch the Exchange. And he’s extremely influential in the Anti-Corn Law League. Quite a forward thinker.” The man spoke in rapid tones, his excitement obvious. “He’s got a sharp mind, good money, and a kindly attitude toward the common man. My spirits are lifted whenever I am fortunate enough to be in his august presence.”

“My goodness, Mr. Camden. You sound enamored.” She was teasing him for his flowery language. She was sure he never spoke of her with such warmth.

“Oh, I am, Miss Powel. I am most enamored. Especially as he condescended to ask me to dine with him for nuncheon.”

Now the man slowed down, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned. Clearly, she was supposed to understand what that meant, but she had no true idea. Except, of course, that gentlemen never met for nuncheon. That was a time reserved for workers.

“Do tell me what happened,” she finally said as he hopped back and forth in excitement.

“Lord Rossgrove has a nephew. Young, wild lad, dashing with the ladies and all that. Bit of a buck about town.”

“Mr. Oscar Morgan, yes, I know of him.” Then she remembered the gossip. The young man had been racing his curricle in a wild manner from…well, somewhere to somewhere else. But he had an accident in Piccadilly Circle, broke a spoke, and crashed. One of the horses had to be put down. But even worse, Mr. Morgan had banged his head and took days to regain consciousness. Days with the family praying by his bedside. “Oh dear. Do you mean that Mr. Morgan?”

“Yes!” Mr. Camden answered, somewhat gleefully.

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t? Of course not. Ladies don’t follow this sort of thing, but the boy was to stand for the House of Commons, sponsored by his uncle.”

“Oh,” she whispered, finally putting the pieces together. “You think Lord Rossgrove wants you to stand for the seat instead?”

Mr. Camden grinned. “He has said so already. When we met.”

“But that is marvelous! It is exactly what you wanted, is it not?”

“Yes, but I never expected it would come so soon. I’m a bit young, you know, to have garnered attention from so significant a man. He shows great condescension to take an interest in me. Great fullness of spirit and an extraordinarily keen eye.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant by the fullness of spirit or extraordinarily keen eye, but she knew better than to argue. This was an incredible opportunity for Mr. Camden and exactly why he was on her list in the first place. He had a significant future ahead of him, and she could be the woman at his side, helping him do good work in the nation.

“I’m so pleased for you, Mr. Camden. What is your next step?”

“As to that, Lord Rossgrove had a few reservations. It is natural in a man with such true insight that he would have some requirements. A need to be sure that I would measure up.”

“Requirements?”

“Before he could fully support my campaign, he would like certain proofs, so to speak, of my suitability. Trifles, really, that I am all too eager to demonstrate.”

“I see,” Mari said slowly. “What are they?”

“Well, first and foremost, he believes, quite rightly, that a man can be considered mature—something dreadfully important in any man who wishes to lead—only if he has, to wit, a wife.”

It took Mari a moment to sort through the man’s verbiage. He did not normally talk in such a roundabout manner, but when he was excited, the tendency showed through. It made his sentences very complicated as he stood before her, blinking his dark brown eyes.