Page 16 of A Stranger’s Gamble

Chapter Seven

The following morning, Adam lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. A man would be a fool to shackle himself to a creature such as Miss Sophie Shaw. If he were to consider marrying a rich heiress, Miss Shaw wasn’t his only choice. Impoverished marquesses were in high demand. He couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a determined mama poised to throw her daughter at him. God help him. Was he really considering marrying strictly for money? Why not? The decision to marry for love had left him penniless.

He would never forget Lena’s words the day after his father’s death. “Given recent circumstances, I believe it is better if we sever our relationship.”

Given recent circumstances.

Recent circumstances being that, as the new owner of his father’s Edinburgh townhouse and her newfound riches—the twenty percent of his father’s losses she had collected as owner of the gambling hall—she was now a woman of means. She had no intention of continuing a relationship with a man of no means, even if he was a marquess.

Adam threw back the covers and jumped from bed. To hell with feeling sorry for himself. His father may have gambled away Adam’s inheritance, but the old man had still managed to save him from the hell of marrying Lena. Adam had loved her, but she would have slowly killed him. He hadn’t been able to admit her true nature, so blind was he with passion.

Memory rose of their lovemaking the afternoon his father seated himself in her card room and laid down his first bet. By the time Lena arrived at her gaming hall that evening, the old marquess had suffered heavy losses and was nigh drunk. Did she put a stop to the game? Nae. Rumors circulated about how she called for the solicitor she kept installed in the gaming hall, and he witnessed the signing of the old marquess’s marker.

The personal items and furnishing in Brewhold were all he had left. To a man with money that might mean something, but without the money to maintain the estate, the house would fall into disrepair all too quickly. Even if he scrounged together enough money to maintain the estate for ten years, that would only make him ten years older with fewer options to support himself. Still, ten years of peace, ten years to forget, was hard to resist. Adam shook his head. He might survive ten years, but he wouldn’t raise any horses.

The morning bustle had just begun when he reached Lacy Street an hour later. He hadn’t really thought of a plan beyond befriending the coachman to learn more of Miss Beatrice Frasier. She was his best chance of learning something about Miss Shaw. He had eleven days until the ball. Eleven days to decide whether or not he could sell himself like a common whore.

He strode down the street, headed for the townhouse stables when a woman called out, “Lord Monthemer, is that you? Oh my, but it is you.”

Adam didn’t recognize the voice, but he recognized the tone of a determined mama who now had him in her sights. He grimaced and quickened his step, as if not having heard her.

“Sir,” she called.

The quick click of heels on the walkway told him she was hurrying after him. Bloody hell. A woman willing to chase a man down the street was a dangerous woman, indeed.

“Sir.” The woman was so close he swore he could feel her breath on the back of his neck.

Adam halted and turned. Then wished he hadn’t. He remembered all too well the woman, Mrs. Walker. She had a daughter, a sweet young girl who belonged anywhere but the jungle of a ballroom. Mrs. Walker, however, was determined to get a title for her daughter at all costs and cared not one whit that her country daughter was shunned by the females of society and hunted by desperate males who would rut between her legs, then spend her money.

“Mrs. Walker.” He bowed.

She halted in front of him, heaving so loudly he feared the large woman would collapse. “I-I am s-so pleased to see you, sir.”

“It is always a pleasure to see you, madam. I am late for an appointment, however.”

“Oh-oh, of course. I am hosting a party. I am not certain where to send your invitation.”

“I am afraid I am not staying in Town,” he replied.

Panic shone in her eyes. “But the party is tonight. Surely, you will be here tonight? Lucy is so looking forward to seeing you.” She leaned a little closer and said in a conspiratorial tone, “My husband has an important matter to discuss with you.”

Adam gave her a cool smile. “He will have to forgive me, but my business cannot wait.”

He gave another small bow and started to turn. She grasped his sleeve. Adam stiffened.

Her eyes widened and she released him. “Oh, but you must forgive me, my lord. It is just…” Tears welled in her eyes.

Adam checked the anger that rushed to the surface. The woman was a master manipulator.

“You see—” she broke off. “Well, my husband will be very angry with me for telling you—”

“Then perhaps you should not tell me,” he cut in.

“I know it is not the done thing,” she said, and Adam ignored the two women who stared as they passed. “But my husband—good man that he is,” she continued, “does not understand the heart of a young girl. You see, Lucy, well, she has formed a, ah, that is, she has formed an affection for you.”

“Mrs. Walker, your daughter is barely out of the school room, seventeen, if I recall. Any attachment she might have formed for me”—and he felt certain she hadn’t—“will dissolve when the next handsome young man asks her to dance.”

He wished the right man would ask her to dance, but knew it mattered not. Mrs. Walker cared more for her climb up society’s ladder than she did her daughter’s happiness.