Page 115 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Mama and Eleanor exchanged glances, and by some unspoken agreement, Eleanor was the one to explain.

“The Earl of Sommerfield has been taken.”

She blinked. “Taken? Where?”

“To gaol!” Mama said on a choked gasp. “An earl taken to gaol for thievery. Pulled right out of his bed and had the irons clapped on him like a common criminal.”

Mari nodded. “Well, he is a common criminal. He should be arrested.”

“Not an earl!” Mama cried.

“I know it’s shocking,” she began, but Eleanor interrupted her.

“That’s not the horrible part.”

Mari blinked. “It’s not?”

“No. Lord Whitly was the one who had him arrested.”

Of course it was. Peter would not leave such a thing to anyone else. “When did this happen?” She’d only left him a few hours before.

“An hour ago,” Mama said. “Lord Whitly sent a note to your papa, explaining matters.”

Mari glanced to Eleanor, who shrugged. “I learned of it through a footman who was there at the time.”

“At the earl’s home?” How the devil was Eleanor connected to a servant at Sommerfield’s establishment?

She nodded. “You showed marked interest in Lord Whitly. I felt it incumbent upon myself to gain insight into his particulars.” Her arch look added the words she would never say aloud: That is what you paid me for.

Mari had no words in response, especially as her mind was wholly consumed by thoughts of Peter. How awful he must feel. How terrible to have to stand and see your father clapped in irons. Even worse to be the instrument of his father’s destruction.

“Help me dress, Mama,” she said as she scrambled out of bed. “I must go to him.”

“What?” her mother gasped.

“You must absolutely not!”

Those were the sharpest words she’d ever heard from Eleanor, and she and her mother turned in shock.

“Let me explain this to you,” Eleanor continued in a more moderated tone. “Lord Whitly has sent his own father to gaol. His father, an earl, has been incarcerated, and not by the hand of the King.”

Mari slowly exhaled, finally understanding everyone’s reaction. She had spent so much time thinking about the crime the earl had tried to lay at her father’s door that she hadn’t thought about the rest. Peter had vowed to end the thieving ring. And that had meant arresting his own father.

“How awful for him,” she breathed, all the more determined to go to Peter’s side if only to stand with him. They were not married, but it was a wife’s place—

“You cannot see Lord Whitly,” Eleanor said smoothly. “He’s with Prinny, who is not pleased.”

“Of course not. His Highness must be furious at the earl—”

“Not pleased that Lord Whitly would expose such a thing publicly. Especially without informing him first.”

Well, he probably couldn’t have. Peter ran in good circles, but not quite so exalted as to call Prinny a friend. “Nevertheless, the earl was at fault—”

“Listen, Mari!” Eleanor snapped. “If the lower orders lose faith in the peerage, then we will have chaos. People will riot, and Madame Guillotine will appear in Hyde Park. Do you want that?”

“Of course not,” Mari returned with equal heat. “But if we allow the elite their corruptions—”

“No one said allow it. One must end it quietly.”