Page 56 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Is a suitor for your hand. Will you choose him over Camden? He’s got the title and the blunt that Camden lacks.” He leaned forward, pressing his advantage while she was still ridiculously aflutter. “What do you see in Mr. Camden that is missing in Whitly?”

A purpose. A direction. A damned goal that she could support. But she couldn’t say those things. Her choice in husband was none of his business, so she resorted to Eleanor’s tactic. She pushed to her feet, forcing him to scramble to his.

“Thank you for inviting me, Lord Rossgrove. This has certainly been an enlightening visit. I hope you—”

“I won’t do it,” Rossgrove interrupted.

“What?”

“I won’t put my money behind Camden without you.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because you’re the making of him. Can’t imagine what’s taking the fool so long to tie your fortune to him.”

Well, that answer was clear. Because she hadn’t allowed herself to be bold and powerful before. She’d spent all her time quietly nudging when she should have been shoving. Or demanding. How lowering to realize that her nemesis was right. Without Whitly’s advice, she’d have been a quiet mouse of a woman without power or notice from anyone.

Well, if she was to own her new power, she had best learn to use it. She lifted her chin.

“How disappointing,” she drawled. “I had thought you smarter than that, Lord Rossgrove.”

His brows snapped together. “What?”

“Mr. Camden is whip-smart and loyal. Two things you desperately need. Your political ambitions align, and he’ll never betray you. If he has a failing, it’s that he won’t see your faults until it’s too late for you both.”

Rossgrove arched a brow. “Presumably something that won’t be a problem if you are at his side.”

She nodded slowly. “Very true. But you would be a fool to let him slip away with or without me.”

He snorted. “I expect to hear of your engagement within the week.” His eyes narrowed. “Bring him up to scratch, Miss Powel.”

As if she hadn’t been trying! But she was insulted by the order, and so her tongue got the better of her. “Or what, my lord? You will put your insensate nephew in the seat? Perhaps you favor a farmer who will be ignored by everyone and make you a laughingstock? You have no power to command me, Lord Rossgrove.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Never dismiss the power of a man who hoards it like gold. She knew that, but her tongue had gone beyond her, and so he slapped her in the most civilized way he knew how.

“I can see your wayward temper has gotten the better of you. It must be your Welsh blood that makes you unsuitable. No wonder you aren’t married yet.”

The words were deliberate, the dismissal infuriating. How could he know the exact words to cut her? She would not cry! Not one minute ago, he’d praised her as the making of Mr. Camden. Then she allowed her temper loose, and he dismissed her as a Wayward Welsh. Worse, he was waving her away as he sat down to his ledger.

“Tell Mr. Camden that I shall be looking elsewhere for a candidate.”

Bloody hell. She’d mucked it up completely, and now Mr. Camden would bear the brunt of her ill temper. This appointment would have been the making of him, and she’d destroyed his chances. But far from spurring her to apologize, she tossed aside everything and let her anger boil over.

“I shall tell him that a fool and his money are soon parted. Your greatest wealth is your family and friends, and yet your nephew is wild, your son won’t visit you, and your cronies are fast disappearing. You are waning, Lord Rossgrove, and since your friends and family are gone, your gold will soon go as well.” She shook her head. “You have failed this interview, my lord. I wish you well, but I doubt it will come to pass.” And with that, she opened the door herself and sailed out past the shocked Fletcher.

Mr. Camden had been sitting at the bench, worrying his hat into a frayed state. He jumped to his feet when he saw her, and his eyes widened. “Miss Powel?” he asked, his voice a high squeak.

She bit her lip and shook her head. She’d harmed him. She’d destroyed his chances with Lord Rossgrove, and she didn’t know what she could say to fix that. In the end, she just squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I tried very hard. I really did, but…”

She watched Mr. Camden’s face pale. His skin blanched white, and his eyes shone bright. But only for a moment, then the look was gone. He grabbed their things from the side table and wordlessly held open the door.

“You might be able to fix things,” she offered softly. Then honesty forced her to say the truth. “I don’t know how, though. Not with me as your bride.”

He shook his head. “Never mind that now. There are other patrons, other seats in Commons. Come let us walk in this fine weather. Your maid can take the carriage home.”

He was being nice to her when she’d just destroyed his future. “You are very kind, Mr. Camden.”