Page 57 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Not at all, Miss Powel. Not at all.” He took her hand, placed it on his arm, and began to walk. They were barely down the first step when Fletcher closed the door with a ponderous thud. Mari tried not to mind. She was looking at a white cloud in the sky. Mr. Camden said it looked like a bird.

She tried to see it. She truly did. She told him emphatically that it was a magnificent cloud bird, but in truth, she felt too miserable to see anything but darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

“Winner! Winner!”

“Shut up, you bloody bird,” Peter groused.

The creature tilted its head in confusion, making Peter relent and feed him a bit of carrot.

“Winner, winner,” Greenie confirmed. Peter sighed.

It had never occurred to him that he’d fail to win his choice of bride. While in India, he’d worried that Miss Powel would marry someone else. But now that he was home and she unwed, he thought she’d tumble into his arms. It had never occurred to him that she would still think so little of him. He’d grown so much during his absence, learned to be a man not a spoiled boy. Why didn’t she see that?

What is your plan?

Just because a man didn’t bellow his thoughts far and wide didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking of them. Or working toward that end. In truth, she was critical to his plan.

She was simply putting up obstacles out of obstinacy. It didn’t matter what he said to her, she would find some objection. He knew the root of the problem. She had been told from the cradle that the only way a woman could succeed was to be caged in, restrained, and hampered. She was so used to others putting up obstacles, she didn’t realize it had become a habit for herself as well.

That, of course, was the real reason she’d remained unwed. Between her father’s vigilance and her own misunderstanding, she built walls all around herself. Few men would find a way through. But then few men knew exactly what fire lay behind all those barriers. But he had kissed her. He knew.

He was also getting damned tired of the struggle.

Which led to his current question and the source of his ill temper with Greenie. Was Miss Powel worth the effort? Ash was right that he hadn’t looked around at the current crop of bride-hopefuls. Surely any number of them would be an eager substitute for Miss Powel.

Except he didn’t want anyone else. They all seemed pale. Less vibrant, less interesting, less everything. Which was ridiculous, and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling.

Logic told him to look for someone else. Emotion told him to stay the course, because Miss Powel would eventually realize that there was more to life than endless restrictions.

“Winner, winner!”

He sighed and fed Greenie another bit of carrot. He was a man of reason, damn it, and he would not be swayed by emotion. As important as Miss Powel was to his ultimate goal, she wasn’t indispensable. Another woman could grace his bed, wear his title, and give him children he’d love.

Which meant he would give her up, he decided, and his heart sank to his gut and soured his mood.

“Happy sodding day!” the bird squawked, and immediately, Peter’s attention sharpened.

How perfect that the moment he decided to give up Miss Powel, fate brought her to him. She was behind him right now, presumably here for her time to train the bird. Well then, perhaps he should win her favor in some small way.

“No, no, Greenie,” he said. “Happy day. You’re supposed to say ‘happy day.’”

He heard her soft exhale. “Do not think me so easily gulled, my lord,” she said. “You have not been teaching that bird my phrase. You did it because you knew I was at the door.”

She was smart. That was one reason he liked her so well. “True,” he commented. “I was helping you start your hour with Greenie.”

He turned around, and immediately his expression darkened. She was standing beside Lady Illston’s butler, and everything about her screamed repressed. Her hair was pulled back until her eyebrows neared her hairline. Her dress was the most boring beige he’d ever seen. That was bad enough, but when he looked at her amber eyes, expecting that sparkle of animation he’d come to love, he saw red rims and a flatness that had him cursing under his breath.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice low and threatening.

She pulled up short, and her gaze flicked to his. “My lord?”

He glanced at the butler and made a tiny gesture with his chin. The man bowed himself out, closing the door behind him, which required Miss Powel to step farther into the room. Peter went to her side, reaching for her hands, which he lifted into his. When she didn’t resist, he grew even more alarmed.

“Something dreadful has occurred. I must know what it is.”

She shook her head and blinked away the telltale sheen of tears. “It is nothing. I’ve done something terribly stupid, and someone else paid the price. I feel quite angry with myself and…” She shrugged. “Well, there is nothing to be done but to learn from my mistake and beg pardon.” She bit her lip. “And to wish I would learn once and for all.”