Page 60

“Do we have all the money required?” Evan asked. “Payment must be made by the end of the week.”

Everyone turned to Miles, who rolled his eyes. “I had to travel and lost track of time. Therefore, it seems I have lost the bet.” His whiskey-colored gaze scanned the room. “I will have the money replenished before the ship returns.”

“That is a long time,” Evan said, chuckling. “What, six months? We did not have that long.”

“The only one that acquired the money and has therefore won is Grant. That means we are each to give him a percentage.”

“No,” Grant said. “I do not want it. The money came to me in a way that I am not proud of. If anything, I cannot wait for the ship to return so I can repay it.”

No one argued, seeming to understand he preferred not to be reminded of the fact he’d earned the money by sleeping with a woman. Especially now that he was married and happily so.

“What if we wager on whether or not Miles will have his money replenished in a month,” Henry said.

Evan laughed. “Henry, you are always up for a bet, and I have missed our ridiculous wagers. I wager that Miles will not come up with the money.”

“You wound me,” Miles replied and sipped from his glass. “What about you?” He looked to Grant.

“What are we wagering?” Grant asked before replying.

They waited for Henry since he’d proposed the wager. With a devilish smile, Henry lifted his glass. “If Miles replenishes his investment in a month, those who doubted him must parade naked at a social event. If he does not, then he, along with the losers, will do so.”

“Can it be in the garden?” Evan asked, laughing.

“Within sight,” Henry replied.

“I wager Miles will,” Grant said, knowing Miles would go to extremes to ensure he won.

“I wager he will not,” Henry announced.

They held up their glasses, the wager set.

“Do not begin until after the money is paid to the captain,” Henry instructed Miles.

Miles lifted a brow. “Very well.”

Grant sat back, not listening to their discussion. Instead, he thought about how he wanted to rush home and see Wren. It was only when he noticed Miles looking at him as if expecting a reply that he stopped musing. “What did you say?”

“I spoke to Mother about hosting a small gathering to celebrate your marriage. It will not do for a friend of mine’s wife to be mistreated by the vipers that call themselves ‘ladies’ in our social circles.” Miles’ parents, the Duke & Duchess of Spencer, hosting an event for them would ensure Wren’s acceptance.

Grant could not believe that Miles would do such a thing. “I don’t know what to say. I would be ever so grateful.”

Speechless, he met Miles’ gaze. The lord nodded, seeming to know he was unable to formulate words. “Mother wishes for it to be in a week.”

“Th—that is fine. Miles, you are…”

Lord Johnstone held up his hand to stop him. “Do not say that I am kind or nice. It would ruin my reputation of being cold, heartless, and deplorable.”

The other men laughed, as those were the exact words of a woman who had poured her drink on Miles’ head several months earlier. They’d been struck silent when it happened, then burst into laughter when Miles blinked, and liquid splashed from his lashes.

Instead of going home after leaving the hotel, Grant went to a small patisserie and purchased a box of delicacies for Wren to try. Then he went to the shop next door and purchased dainty handkerchiefs and gloves. When he exited, a familiar carriage came to a stop in front of the theatre. A familiar man climbed down and assisted a woman.

It was Eleanor Dupree, the woman he’d slept with ten years earlier, and her husband. Theirs was the marriage he’d ruined for many years. As if sensing his regard, the man turned to him and Grant stood still, unable to move. He wanted to go to them and apologize, to explain that he’d not meant to cause such harm. A part of him acknowledged that it was the woman’s doing, not just his. But he’d been wrong to go to that house on that wretched evening.

The man nodded in acknowledgment, then turned to smile at the woman who did not notice him, and together they went to the doors. They were together, and Grant was glad. It seemed that after years apart, they’d reconciled. For that, he was grateful.

Once home, he hurried up the stairs and found Wren in the sitting room reading over his book. He froze, and opened his mouth to tell her to stop, but found he didn’t have a voice. No one had read his writing, except for perhaps the publishing company he’d mailed a copy to. It was much too personal, and he feared what others would think.

Wren looked up, her face brightening at seeing him. After placing the bound pages down carefully, she hurried to him. “You are a magnificent writer. I am only a few pages in, and the story has gripped me.”