Page 94 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Papa!”

“Quiet. I am waiting for Lord Whitly’s explanation.”

She reared up, furious about this, of all things, on this bizarre day. Her father demanding an explanation from Lord Whitly for her actions. “Well, you cannot have it,” she snapped. “I am the one who jumped a hackney on the way to the docks. I am the one who left a message for Tie. And I am the one responsible for clapping Silas on the head with two tankards of ale.”

“Really, Mari,” gasped her mother. “And here I thought Josephine was the wild one.”

Mari threw up her hands. “She is, Mama. I am the wayward one.”

Her father banged down his hand again, the clap echoing loudly in the kitchen. “And what has that to do with anything?”

Everything. It had to do with everything, but she couldn’t begin to explain. Not with her father glaring daggers at Peter, and her fiancé accepting the blame for what she had done. It was ridiculous, and she was tired of it.

“I am a grown woman, Papa, well into my majority.”

Her father flashed an irritated grimace, but it was Peter who spoke, his voice calm and deliberate. “The servants will be rousing soon.” He glanced at the cook and butler. “The other servants. Perhaps there is a private place to speak?”

“Come to the library,” her father answered, his voice gruff.

Mama didn’t even bother getting to her feet, but Mari moved forward, only to be stopped by her father’s glare.

“I will call when I am ready to speak to you.”

She glared right back, but she knew better than to press the point when he was in this mood. Her father was not generally mercurial, but when he became angry, everyone in the household stayed away. She was still trying to decide what to do when Peter spoke to the boy.

“Tie, if you have finished eating, would you come with us? This concerns you.”

The boy nodded, his eyes round as he hopped up from his seat.

Mari stiffened. “A ten-year-old boy gets to join you, but I—”

Peter touched her lips. His finger was large, but still gentle. Generally, she would have had no trouble speaking past his gesture, but the intimacy of what he did shocked her into silence. Certainly, he had the right to touch her so openly, but it was still an announcement. He’d effectively told everyone in the room that a proposal was imminent. And if there were any doubts, his next words made everything clear.

“I told you I would speak with your father today.”

He had. She just hadn’t expected it to be fifteen minutes after she’d snuck in the kitchen door.

“I should be there. This concerns me.” Much more than it did the boy.

“Do you recall how you told me the dowagers would never dance the waltz?”

She nodded. “I won the wager.”

“Because you know Society much better than I. Women’s Society.” He glanced at her father, who was watching them with a steady gaze. “In this, I am better equipped to handle the discussions of men.”

“That was a ballroom game.”

“And this is our future together. I will take care with it.”

She wanted to say no! She wanted to stamp her foot like a child and then continue to stomp her feet right into the library. But she knew her father, and he would not tolerate such disobedience. The servants were watching, most especially Horrid Horace. She already appeared a scapegrace; she had no wish to compound that with a useless display of temper. Nevertheless, it grated on her nerves to give way.

“Call me quickly,” she finally said.

“Of course,” he agreed. Then he gestured to Tie to precede him as the men trotted out of the kitchen to the library. Even Horace went, presumably to open the library door, then stand with his ear pressed to it once the others were inside.

“Come along, Mari,” her mother said with a sigh. “You can explain it all to me as Cook heats water for a bath. You cannot spend the day smelling like a tavern.”

She knew she was beaten, so she nodded. It would be good to get out of this annoying corset. At least in her own clothing, she’d be able to bellow with a full breath if her father became unreasonable.