Page 116 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Mari compressed her lips. She understood Eleanor’s fears. She might not agree with them, but she understood the worry. The peerage was expected to act in a superior manner. Show them to be as fallible as anyone else, and the entire civilization might collapse, as it had in France.

But Peter hadn’t been worried about that. His fears were that the elite would become as venally corrupt as in India. And to prevent that, he exposed his own father as a thief. He would show the world—including England’s most powerful—that they were not above the law.

She adored him for that, even as she now saw why Eleanor and her mother had rushed to her side. They knew the powerful did not like one of their own being exposed. And far from turning on his father, they attacked the son instead.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

Eleanor took a sip of her tea. “It is too early to tell. Much will depend on Prinny’s reaction.”

That made complete sense. Mari took a deep breath and thought about the gowns in her wardrobe. “What do I own that is appropriate for an early morning call on the prince?”

Eleanor’s teacup clattered in the saucer. Another unexpected display from the usually serene woman. “You cannot be serious. Whyever would he see you?”

“He wouldn’t, alone,” Mari allowed. “But he would see you, wouldn’t he? You’re the exquisite Lady Eleanor, daughter of a duke who had once been friendly with His Majesty, are you not?”

“My father—my family—” The woman sputtered so much she had to fold her hands together and compress her lips. After a deep breath, she spoke. “I’ve only met the man a few dozen times. He is the Prince Regent.”

“And you are Lady Eleanor, who opens closed doors. Who makes smooth that which has been ruffled.” Mari made her gaze hard enough to transmit the words she wouldn’t utter aloud. And this is what we paid you for.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

They did not see the prince.

That was Eleanor’s fault. First, it had taken time to convince Eleanor that Mari intended to go with or without the woman. And that once at Carlton House, she would make liberal use of Eleanor’s name.

It wasn’t an idle threat, so Eleanor grudgingly agreed, but then had to change her clothing. If it was a stall tactic, it worked, because that left Mari cooling her heels for another two hours. Fortunately, she put the time to good use and managed to persuade Eleanor’s cousin, the sailor-turned-Duke of Bucklynde, to join their party.

Nevertheless, it was a wasted endeavor. By the time they made it to the prince’s residence, the royal wasn’t there. Neither was Peter. And nobody would anyone tell them where they’d gone or what had been the result of their discussion.

Maddening!

Fortunately, the duke had an excellent idea. He offered to visit the gentlemen’s clubs to learn what the general mood was. At that point, Mari was desperate for any sort of news, and she couldn’t get the man moving fast enough.

Mari’s next idea was to go directly to Peter’s lodging, but Eleanor and her mother swore to lock her in chains if she attempted it. They were set on her making a good marriage, and if the tide of favor had turned against Peter, they wanted her as far away from him as possible.

Mari ignored them and directed the carriage to her father’s place of business. If anyone knew anything, it would be him. Except that when they got to his office, they learned her father was doing exactly what the duke was doing: making the rounds to find out which way the wind blew.

Damn and blast! Mari was nearly insane with worry. In the end, she couldn’t do anything but return home in hopes that someone had left a message. Which was when they received their first piece of real news, delivered, naturally, in condescending tones by Horrid Horace.

“Lady Illston awaits you in the parlor. She’s had two pots of tea already.”

Mari didn’t bother to acknowledge the man but rushed into the parlor, hoping for news.

“Lady Illston,” she said, taking the woman’s hands in hers. “What brings you here this ill-favored afternoon?”

The woman rose and took her hands, her expression flustered. “Ill-favored? Oh! I suppose you mean as regards Lord Whitly.”

Mari kept hold of the lady’s hands as she sank into the nearest settee. “We are most desperate for news. Have you heard anything?”

“My, yes! Lord Whitly has been summoned to Carlton House!”

Mari’s teeth clenched. “Yes, we’ve just returned from there.”

“You have? My goodness, what did Prinny say?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid. He’d already left.”

“So you know then that Lord Whitly had his own father arrested for thievery. Can you imagine?”