Page 93 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Her mother huffed out a breath. “It was not!”

“Well, it was for me. Afterward.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and her voice dropped to a more menacing level. “You said you were staying with Georgette.”

“Yes, well, I intended to.” Lies upon lies. “But my help was needed elsewhere and…um…in disguise.” This was not going well. However had her sister managed to sneak about? One wayward night, and Mari was floundering. She glanced significantly at Horace, then back at her father. “Must we discuss this right now?”

Her mother sniffed. She had the angriest sniff of any woman alive. “I rather think it’s too late to try discretion now.”

“Mother—” she began, but she hadn’t a clue what she wanted to say. And then her brain finally caught up to the situation. At least as far as the people in the room. She focused on the boy. “Wait a moment. Are you Tie?”

The boy’s eyes were round, and his mouth was jammed full, but he still managed to nod at her.

“You’re the reason I’m dressed like this. We’ve been searching all over dockside for you.”

“Mercy me,” murmured the cook.

“Dockside!” gasped her mother.

“We?” said her father with a growl.

Trust her father to narrow in on exactly the point she wished to avoid. He could be angry at her all he liked. Heaven knows she deserved it, given what she’d really done this night. But she did not want that fury turning on her future husband.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said much too brightly as she focused on the child. “The point is that finally we’ve—that I’ve finally found you. Or you found me. Was it Ellie who told you?”

The boy nodded his head. He’d finished off his bread and was reaching for his cup of honey tea. But when she stepped toward the child, her father intercepted, his hand hard on her wrist.

“What have you been up to, Mari?” His voice was low and dark. Darker than she’d ever heard from her father.

“Papa, it’s nothing.”

His voice dropped to barely audible in the near-silent room. “Were you in my bedroom? Have you been looking at the ledger?”

She frowned. “What are you talking about? I haven’t been in your bedroom for weeks.” She looked to her mother, but the woman shook her head, her expression sad. Mari jumped to the closest explanation she could think of. “Has something gone missing?”

“No, no,” said her mother. “Nothing’s gone.”

“It’s been touched. Damn it, I know when my things have been moved.”

Moved? Touched? Papa didn’t notice when Mama bought completely different furniture for the main parlor. It took him weeks to comment after Josephine laid off pastels in favor of brighter colors. And Mari believed he’d yet to realize the nursery had been remade into a sitting room eight years ago. But that wasn’t his ledger. About certain things, her father was obsessive.

“I don’t understand,” she began. Worse, she was a little upset that he cared more about his ledger than that she’d walked in at dawn, wearing a tavern woman’s dress. Then she realized the thought had come too soon. Her father certainly did see what she wore and the hour. In fact, he made a point of sniffing her hair.

“Why do you smell like ale?”

How to answer that? “Well, I got into an accident while we were searching for Tie.”

A man’s voice came from behind. “She clapped two pints of ale across a villain’s head. I assure you, sir, I had no desire for her to be there, but she appeared nonetheless, and I was grateful for her assistance.”

She spun around to see Peter walking casually into the room, his expression rueful even as he nodded to her parents before looking intensely at the boy.

“Pet—uh…” She quickly changed her words. “Lord Whitly, what are you doing here?”

“I waited to make sure you got inside safely, then I heard the conversation.” He flashed her a sad look. “You know, you are the worst liar I have ever heard. A masquerade party?”

“I was in disguise,” she huffed. “It felt like a masquerade. Of sorts.” In truth, it had felt like the most fun she’d ever had. Until she had gone to his rooms and learned about even better amusements.

Meanwhile, her father straightened to his full, lanky height. “Strange goings-on here. My things touched. A dirty boy appearing, asking after my daughter. And now you say she was in a fight with a villain. You will explain yourself this instant, or I will have you clapped in irons.”