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“Miss Staveley, may we speak? Just now your sister delivered a counterfeit express message to the castle.”

“Ah,” she said, looking at Viola. “That explains her attire. It’s not quite right, is it?”

“Apparently, the cuffs are wrong,” he said. “My friend Finch noticed. Will you walk with me?”

“I suppose I must.” She turned to her sister. “Viola, will you leave off the costume and resume a lady’s attire?”

“What? Is propriety all you care about, Cordelia? Am I truly the only one who wants to save our home?”

Gray watched as Cordelia bent an unwavering gaze at her sister. Viola stomped up the stairs.

From above them, she called down, “Graymont says you made an agreement with him. This is your doing, Cordelia.”

Gray opened the door to let Cordelia Staveley through. They fell into step and began to walk, an easy stroll without hurry or fury, her composure apparently restored.

“You won.” She didn’t look at him. He’d had only that brief glimpse of feeling in those eyes.

He tried to read the level of disappointment in her voice. “I did. Though, I confess I did not expect it.”

She smiled a small, wry smile. “I should have. My sister is admirably determined to save our home, as you see.”

“She might have pulled it off, but for an accident and those cuffs.”

That made her glance his way. “What accident?”

“The collapse of some scaffolding.”

“Was anyone injured?”

He heard the concern in her voice. “No.”

“Henry told us there have been other accidents.”

“It’s dangerous work, of course.” There was no reason to share his suspicions with her.

“So there will be no ball.”

“As we agreed.”

“You wouldn’t consider being magnanimous in victory?” she asked.

“Not for a minute.” He grinned. Miss Cool-and-Collected was in his power.

She halted and turned to him. “Very well then, if our wager is at an end, I will console my sisters as best I can and make other arrangements. Good day to you, Lord Graymont.” With a slight bow she turned back toward the lodge.

“Wait, Miss Staveley. You haven’t yet heard what I win.” He spoke to her back and watched as his words caught her and arrested her steps. He could not see her face, but the set of her shoulders told him she’d gone alert and wary.

Slowly, she turned back, her calm exterior in place, only a hint of unease in her eyes. “Right. You seem to have everything at Delamere. What more could you want?”

“Swim with me.” His voice came low and hoarse.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “Swim with me in the morning.”

“Tomorrow, you mean?”

He shook his head. “Every morning.”