Page 16

It was both easier and more painful to do that in Rowden’s presence. That ghost of the boy she’d loved so ardently stood behind this scowling, ruined man, and in that shadow she saw the ghost of her own self, dimly.

That ghost had been stubborn, famously so. She lifted her chin.

“I am here, visiting your uncle and Aunt Dobbs, so Giles might spend time with Lily and see if the two make a match of it. I rather think we’ll have a wedding by August, and then I shall go home.”

“You don’t know Giles as well as I do.”

She hitched the shawl beneath her chin, a protective gesture. His gaze, which he dragged with great effort from her bosom to her face, made her feel naked.

Also, truth be told, quite flushed. Rowden had grown into a handsome, powerful man. And she was alone with him in this room. His bedchamber.

“I believe I know Giles quite well. Possibly better than you do. In addition, I have a woman’s intuition to guide me, and some experience of marriage, if you will recall.”

“Oh, I recall.” His eyes burned into her. “Care to make a wager?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“I’m a gambling man. You seem to have heard that about me.”

“I heard you are a fortune hunter.”

“And a betting man. I wager, left to his own devices and without your meddling, Giles will favor my choice for him, Miss Mary Kemp.”

Sophronia lifted her chin. “He will fall in love with Lily. Everyone does.”

“It’s decided then. A proper wager. So we must decide stakes if I win.”

He fell back, no longer crowding her, and Sophronia hauled air into her lungs. Her mind tried to creak its way through the bargain he’d proposed.

She blamed the sherry. It had done something to make her susceptible to this man, to the cedar and smoke scent of him, to his languid grace as he walked to a chair, dropped down upon it, and began the task of removing his boots.

The open neck of his shirt gapped as he leaned forward, and Sophronia caught a glimpse of male chest, the curve of muscle, the light scatter of brown hair.

She swallowed again and closed her eyes against the wave of desire. She could not be foolish. Not again.

“How high will these stakes be?” Bint would be watching how she spent her money. He had no legal say over her actions, or was not supposed to, but if she began tossing large portions of her late husband’s fortunes away, he’d be back at Chancery in a flash claiming that she was not a fit heir.

Not that she meant to lose. Of course Giles would adore Lily. Sophronia wouldn’t be here if she weren’t absolutely certain of that.

“I have it.” Rowden dangled the fine leather of one tall boot in his hand. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but that twist to his mouth was back. “If I win, and Giles chooses Mary Kemp, I get to choose your next husband.”

“I—I will concede to no such thing.” She sounded like a prim mynah bird this evening, squawking the same phases over and over.

“Why not?” He let the boot thump on the floor and turned to the other.

Sophronia tried very hard not to stare at the muscled line of his legs or his stockinged foot. “The very notion is ridiculous. Would you concede to let me choose your wife?”

“Under normal circumstances, no. But a wager is meant to involve some element of risk. If Giles wants your Lily, I will consent to let you select candidates for my wife.”

The thought of Rowden marrying, of saying those vows of devotion and care to another woman, made Sophronia’s stomach burn. She would never drink sherry again.

“If I find you a likely candidate now—for your wife, that is—would you agree not to stand in the way of Giles’s courtship of Lily?” She had a suspicion that Rowden would do everything in his power, including spoke her wheels, to ensure he won the bet. That was what fortune hunters did.

“Giles is going to prefer Mary Kemp, no matter what you say or do. But if you can present me with a woman I wish to marry, I will agree not to do anything to speed or aid their courtship. And once they do marry,” he added with a grunt as he yanked off his boot, “I get the final say on your next husband.”

Sophronia groped for her wits. They seemed to have deserted her entirely. “That is hardly a sound agreement as I do not wish to remarry.”

“Bets are never fair, Ro. You take a gamble on what you want. Haven’t you ever gambled?”