“I am not playing with their lives,” he gritted.
“But you are.”
“I am not. I am trying to show them what they normally wouldn’t see, that they are ideal for one another.”
“Please. You think a man such as Lord Kingston is right for Miss Weeton, a woman who can hardly talk to a man much less look him in the eye?”
“Yes.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I would dearly love to hear how you think they could possibly suit.”
“I have seen men such as Kingston find happiness in the arms of women such as Miss Weeton. My two dearest friends are such men.”
She shrugged. “A mere anomaly, I’m sure.”
“You stubborn woman,” he growled. “Nothing I say will dissuade you from your course, will it?” How would he ever get her to lay off this mad idea of hers?
But perhaps he needn’t stop her. He merely needed to make her see how serious he was about the whole thing.
And then, with a jolt, an idea came to him. He smiled slowly, taking a step closer to her. Her eyes widened, but in her typical fashion, Rosalind did not retreat.
“Would you care to place a wager on the outcome?”
“A wager?” Outrage contorted her features. “Just as I suspected. You truly are trifling with their lives.”
“The wager will guarantee I’m not. For if, by some miracle, your Mr. Carlisle wins the fair Miss Weeton’s heart, I promise to give up matchmaking forever.”
Rosalind paused, the glint of excitement lighting her eyes. “You would give up your matchmaking? Truly?”
“Truly. But,” he declared, holding up a hand as a triumphant smile curved her lips, “only if Carlisle wins her hand. And only if you don’t interfere.”
She pursed her lips, considering him. One hand came up to fiddle with the worn locket at her throat. Not for the first time he wondered what the small gold circle held. He was about to ask her when she released it and spoke.
“And what would you have me give up should I lose? Not that I expect that to happen,” she muttered.
“Well, if I’m giving up matchmaking, I think we can come up with something equally difficult for you. Let’s say…letting me match you myself?”
The very idea of Rosalind marrying another, of loving another and bearing his children, had sent him into a panic when he’d considered it earlier. Which was the very reason he suggested it now. For perhaps if she had a husband and a life outside of his cousin’s employ, maybe he would be able to put her from his mind and return to the life he’d had before she’d barged her way into it.
And until then he would ignore the peculiar grief that welled up in his gut thinking of it.
Rosalind seemed to find the idea of him matching her just as abhorrent. She let loose a bark of horrified laughter.
He raised a brow. “You doubt I’m serious?”
“But…I won’t do it.”
He crossed his arms, mimicking her posture, and stared down his nose at her. “If you wish for the chance for me to give up my matchmaking, those are my terms. Unless,” he went on with a sly smile, “you aren’t as confident of Mr. Carlisle as you pretend to be.”
As he expected, she drew herself up and did her best to stare him down. Well, as well as one could stare down another nearly two heads taller. “I am very certain of Mr. Carlisle, I assure you.”
He leaned down, until their eyes were almost level. “Prove it.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. His gaze was drawn there, to that perfectly pink lip, wanting very much to be the one to bite it so unmercifully.
He began to sweat. If anything told him he was doing the right thing with this asinine bet, it was his reaction right here. He had to free himself from this maddening woman one way or another, and the sooner the better.
“And how do I know you will play fair?” she asked, suspicion coloring every word.
