Page 118 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Or she could choose something completely different.

She grabbed Lady Illston’s hands, squeezing them tightly to gain the lady’s full attention. And when she was sure she had it—along with her mother’s, and Lady Eleanor’s—she spoke Peter’s doom.

“You must tell everyone that I will be there tonight. Indeed, send round a note to Lord Whitly that he must attend or risk complete ruin. He must be there, for I will see the matter between us resolved once and for all. Will you do that, my lady? For me?”

“Oh my, yes! Of course! If you think that will help.”

“It would indeed,” she said. Just as it would cap Lady Illston’s ball as the event of the Season. Everyone would come to see Peter’s set down—or not—at the hands of the Wayward Welsh.

“Oh dear,” Lady Illston said as she glanced at the mantel clock. “I have so much to do to prepare for tonight. I must be on my way.”

Mari stood. “I completely understand,” she said graciously. After all, she wanted the woman to spread the gossip as much as possible before tonight. Then, lest Mama and Lady Eleanor think she had forgotten them, Mari turned to them. Not surprisingly, Eleanor understood exactly what was happening.

“Please think about this,” Eleanor said. “Even in the best of circumstances, Lord Whitly will forever be tainted as the man who gaoled his own father.”

“Just as I will forever be the Wayward Welsh.” Mari couldn’t help but grin. “I think that makes us two of a kind, don’t you?”

“No,” Eleanor said repressively. “I think it makes you a fool. Your father hired me to find you an eligible husband appropriate to your rising status and massive dowry. A tainted future earl with no fortune does not qualify.”

Mari paused. So that had come out as well. That Peter did not have the fortune everyone once believed. “How well known is that fact?”

Mama folded her hands and looked askance. “I told her, Mari. She’s helping you, so she needed to know.”

“I see,” Mari said slowly. “Well, Eleanor, now you have a choice. As I intend to marry Lord Whitly, you can either exert your considerable influence to sway opinion in his favor, or you can admit to my father and the world that you failed. I am set to marry a bounder whom you initially encouraged.”

She saw Eleanor’s face pale. Her efforts on Mari’s behalf were common knowledge. It was in her own interests to see Mari’s situation resolved in the best manner possible. Which meant, of course, that she had to cede to Mari’s wishes.

She did. And with typical Eleanor grace.

“Very well,” she said slowly. “I will smooth the way.” The woman departed, which left Mari to grab her mother’s hand and head for the front door.

“Heavens, we’ve got no time and too much to do,” Mari said.

“But, darling—”

“Please, Mama, don’t argue. Just help me.”

Her mother blinked in startled shock. “Of course! What do you think I’ve been doing since the moment you were born?”

Mari’s step hitched. “Exactly that, Mama. Thank you. And pray hurry.”

“But where are we going?”

Mari grinned. “Shopping.”

Chapter Thirty

“Are you heartsick or bored? I can’t tell.”

Peter glared at his best friend, not wanting to be cajoled out of his foul mood. It took ten seconds before Ash got the hint and looked away.

They were disembarking from a hackney outside Lady Illston’s ball. Tonight was the big moment when he would have Greenie say the words they’d been practicing for weeks now. Or rather Greenie and the butler had, but either way, the words were his. He just wasn’t sure he should have the bird say them.

“It’s not over, Peter,” Ash said in a low voice. “It all depends on the women.”

Not on women. It all depended on Mari, and despite everything they’d done together, he was not at all sure where her heart lay. Worse, he wasn’t even sure if he should allow her to choose him.

She ought to give him the cut direct. She should wash her hands of his whole blasted family, find an honorable baron somewhere, and put that bastard on the political path to glory. But the very idea made him want to retch.