Page 42 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Mr. Camden?” She frowned as she pushed through his words. “Lord Rossgrove would like you to wed before he supports you to his nephew’s seat?”

“Yes, yes, that is it exactly.” He swallowed. “And, you see, in a man so attuned to the subtle rules of Society, he had some few suggestions as to whom that lady might be.”

Oh dear. That she understood very easily. “And…?” Did she push the point? Demand to know her situation, or play the shrinking violet? Two weeks ago, she would have chosen modesty. But having spent the last week being battered about by Lord Whitly, she was sick to death of being diffident. So she lifted her chin. “Was I on Lord Rossgrove’s list?”

He swallowed. “Sadly, no, Miss Powel.”

“Then I’m sorry. I cannot see Lord Rossgrove in a kindly light.”

“Of course not, of course not.” He bit his lip. “I told him of your many fine qualities and my deep respect for your person. He did, of course, refer to what he called your wayward Welsh ways, but I assured him that you have grown past such nonsense and are now a respected, demure woman.”

“I do try, Mr. Camden.”

“Yes, yes, and so I told him. But he had heard about the wager, you see, with the parrot. That made it more difficult to convince him.”

Of course it did, and here was yet another difficulty she laid at Lord Whitly’s feet. “But did you convince him?”

He flashed her a slow smile, one filled with canny understanding. “I am pleased to tell you that he was impressed by my determination. He could see that my affections were firmly engaged.”

They were? “I am gratified to hear that, Mr. Camden.”

“And so, Miss Powel, he would like to meet you.”

She stared at him, her mind whirling. “Meet me?”

“Yes,” he said. His eyes grew serious as his excitement drained away. He reached forward and took her hand, drawing it tight to his heart. “I should like very much to marry you, Miss Powel. I believe you and I suit extraordinarily well.”

“I—” she began, but he did not allow her to continue.

“We have a shared vision, you see. I believe you will make an excellent wife and mother to my aspirations. But none of that can come to fruition, none of our hopes can appear unless you pass muster with Lord Rossgrove.”

“I see,” she said, her voice quiet. “And if I do not?”

“Then I will have no choice but to end our association. Please understand, I have a great personal liking for you, but without Lord Rossgrove’s support, my aspirations might as well be wishes on a falling star.”

“But surely he’s not your only option.”

“He is the one here now. And if you cannot manage his approval, then you are not the helpmeet I need.”

She exhaled slowly. He was right.

“I mean no disrespect, Miss Powel.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Is there a time and place for this inspection?”

He didn’t even wince at the word. “He has invited you to call on him for tea tomorrow.”

“Me?” she said. “Won’t you be there?”

“No. Indeed, he was quite specific upon that point. You may bring your maid and no other.”

She nodded. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good, good,” he said as he resumed walking. “And if I might be so bold, pray do not wear pink.”

She jolted. “What? Whyever not?”

He gave her a pitying look. “Because the color is flippant.”