Page 119 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Instead, he plastered on a bland expression that exactly resembled bored. He’d perfected it as a child when his father railed at him and he’d had no defense. He’d used it this morning when the man had been so shocked by his arrest—at his son’s own hand—that he’d given Peter his back. Hard to do when being led out of his own home under guard, but he’d managed it.

Peter had remained “bored” throughout the day. He’d worn the expression while the Prince Regent threatened to confiscate every inch of his family’s land. It was etched on his face when he’d gone for something to eat at his club. The hatred aimed at him had been palpable. And he’d put it on when he’d read Mari’s note, pleading with him to meet her at tonight’s ball if he couldn’t manage earlier.

He hadn’t managed it. He’d been too busy managing visits from his father’s creditors. How the bloody hell had the man staved them off until now? No wonder he’d turned to thieving. The earl owed money to the whole of London.

That was when he’d enlisted Ash’s help. Together they’d figured out how to dance around his father’s debts, but it would take every penny he had—or was likely to get—for years. His only hope was Mr. Powel’s offer of employment, but he couldn’t be sure that was still available. After all, Peter had grossly underestimated the ton’s reaction. He’d been so naive, thinking that they would understand the cost to a son for turning his own father in for thieving. Instead, they hailed him as a traitor and damned him to his face.

Bloody hell, was England truly this corrupt? Were the men in power that angry at having their faults exposed? Did no one see that the only way to have a strong nation was to make the bad ones pay, no matter who they were?

“Damn it, Peter, listen to me!” Ash said as he gripped Peter’s arm. They were steps away from joining the line into the ballroom, but his friend halted him while still in the shadows. “It’s the women who make the difference in this sort of thing. If they think you’re a noble man fighting against evil, then their husbands will have no choice but to follow along.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the men who control the purse strings. The men who will never do business with me again.” Even so small a hope as breeding horses looked like a pipe dream now. His horse and his name were tainted with the same brush.

Ash shook his head. “The women control Society. They have more power than you imagine. And Miss Powel has more influence than you guess.” Ash huffed out a breath. “Just marry the girl. Her dowry—”

“I won’t marry her out of desperation.” He said that firmly. Loud enough for others to hear him and turn in their direction. Loud enough, perhaps, for him to believe his own words. Because he very much feared that he would buckle under pressure. That he would let the woman rescue him, though she felt so little for him. And then his lands might be saved, but his bed would be a cold one. And the bright future he envisioned would feel dreary.

He turned away from Ash and stepped into line like a man facing a court martial. And as he had done a thousand times already this day, he reviewed what might happen this evening. What exactly would Mari do?

First off, she would approach this logically, as she did everything. She would think through the costs and benefits of an alliance with him. She would see that any honest husband was better than a disgraced future earl. That whatever her ambition—and Mari had a great many—would be better served by one such as the lackluster Mr. Camden.

From that basis, she would make a public display of turning him down tonight. That was, after all, what she’d planned from the beginning.

Ash stepped into line beside him. He greeted a few people, smiled at those who would respond. Mostly, he stood beside him in a show of staunch support, and Peter couldn’t be more grateful. The man was a true friend.

The line inched forward.

At least his humiliation tonight would have a good audience. The ball was a complete crush.

Then a strange thing happened. Mr. and Mrs. Bailey greeted him, as did their three daughters. Cits, all of them, but they exchanged pleasantries with him as if he weren’t a pariah.

Two feet farther up in line, Lady Sylvia, daughter of the Earl of Crawford, flashed him a flirtatious look from behind her fan. Her father, naturally, was nowhere in sight. That man was an intimate of his own father and had already cursed the day Peter was born. But Lady Sylvia first, then her good friend Miss Koch did their best to encourage him from a distance. It was enough to make the young men in their environs give him a startled nod, especially as Lady Eleanor joined their party.

He glanced at Ash for explanation, but the man was doing the pretty with Lady Cowper. Peter knew better than to risk a harsh set-down from a patroness of Almack’s, so he kept his face turned forward and stopped his hands from clenching nervously in his pockets. And so it continued until he at last made it to the ballroom.

Lady Illston greeted him with a dry kiss, a sympathetic pat to his wrist, and all the warmth that was lacking from her husband, his former associate at the East India Company. That man barely shook his hand before grumbling at him.

“Thought India taught men subtlety, but you seem to have learned the reverse.”

“On the contrary, my lord,” Peter answered with the same words he’d given Prinny. “India taught me that unchecked power is an evil thing. If men are not to pay for their crimes, then anarchy is a sure result.”

“There’s payment, boy, and then there’s public spectacle.” Then he turned his back on Peter to give his hand to Ash.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad reproach. Given the kind of vehement condemnation he’d received throughout the day, it was barely a slap on the wrist. He would have to think longer on that, but the moment he turned away from his host, he saw her.

Mari.

Mari, with her hair barely restrained and in a gown of brilliant color. It even sported both embroidery and lace.

Now there was a gown fit for the Wayward Welsh. And by all appearances, she wore it proudly. Her chin was lifted, her eyes flashed in the candlelight, and color bloomed in her cheeks. She’d never looked more beautiful to him.

“You should talk to her before the big parakeet display,” Ash murmured in his ear.

Peter took one step before he realized the futility of it. She was surrounded on all sides. “She’s come into her own,” he said, both pleased and dismayed. It was clear she’d finally found her purpose and was grasping it with both hands. He couldn’t be prouder of her, even if it was in service of his set-down.

“I can clear the space,” Ash said, “but you have to move quickly. Make your case. There’s still time—”

“You do understand how marriage to me would only diminish her standing.”