Page 79 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

The hackney was quick, and Peter paid him enough coin to wait. Then he stood mute as Ash escorted Mari into a dark, unremarkable building. The sign read My Lady’s Apothecary along with some Chinese symbols beneath. He had no idea what that meant, but he trusted his friend. More than he trusted himself right then.

So he waited to see who, if anyone, would return to him.

Chapter Nineteen

Mari descended the carriage, feeling her clothing strain with the movement. She didn’t truly want to leave Peter. There was a great deal she wanted to ask the man, and this diversion was not welcome. But something significant had passed between the two men, and this trip to the apothecary was the result. If nothing else, she would see that Lord Rimbury received medical attention.

“My lord,” she began, but he cut her off.

“Not until we are inside,” he said. Then he rapped three times on the door, in a special rhythm. As the entire alleyway was dark, she didn’t think anyone would respond. But a few moments later, she heard the telltale scrape of a door lock.

“Who is it?” a female voice called.

“Lord Rimbury and a friend in need of your education.”

“Education?” Mari whispered. “You’re the one who needs help—” She cut off her words as the door swung open, revealing an older woman in a thick wrap holding up a heavy candelabra.

“She needs a better dress,” the woman said.

“And he needs something for his pain,” Mari responded.

The woman aimed the light at Lord Rimbury’s face. “That he does,” she agreed as she stepped back.

“Thank you, Madame Ille,” he said as he escorted Mari inside a simple apothecary shop. It was a clean place filled with exotic scents, and Mari inhaled deeply as she tried to sort form from shadow. Mari understood the basics of a stillroom, but the jars and scents here were beyond her. As was a strange chart on the wall covered in Chinese symbols. She recognized the language from her travels, but she had no understanding of the characters themselves.

She might have asked about it. She was generally curious about foreign lands. But the moment the door shut, Lord Rimbury turned to her and gently took hold of her nearest hand.

“Miss Powel,” he began, “Mari, pray forgive me for being blunt.”

“We have always spoken freely to one another.”

His expression twisted into his customary self-mocking smile. “We have never spoken freely, Mari, except about other people. Tonight, I wish to talk plainly. About me. And perhaps about us.”

A shiver of fear went down her spine. Lord Rimbury was never serious, and he never spoke about himself. Which meant that whatever he was about to say would likely change their relationship forever. And she did not want that. She liked him and—

And he gave her no choice.

“Peter is my dearest friend,” he began, “but if it came to it, if I had to choose… Mari, I would choose you.”

She winced, instinctively drawing back from him. Without a proper response, she muttered something wholly inappropriate. “Being wayward is much more difficult than I imagined.”

She watched his lips curve in amusement, which had been her intention. But soon his expression turned serious again. “Surely you’ve noticed my attention.”

“Of course I have. But…” She shifted awkwardly. “But you only want me for my dowry.”

Lord Rimbury released a low, bitter chuckle. “If you think that, then you are as blind as Peter is mute. Perhaps you deserve each other.”

Mari bit her lip, guilt making her throat close up. She knew Lord Rimbury was more than a fortune hunter, but she’d never seen this side of him before. Serious. Earnest. And so loyal as to allow himself to be beaten just to help his longtime friend.

“My lord,” she began, but he interrupted her.

“Ashley,” he said. “Just once, say my real name.”

“Ashley, you honor me more than I can say.”

“But you want him.” It wasn’t a question. And it wasn’t the full truth.

“Not exactly.”