Page 117 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Yes, I can. His father is a thief and deserves it.”

The woman paused a moment to gape, but then recovered quickly. “But I cannot credit it! He’s an earl. My husband was most incensed. He stormed out of the house an hour after hearing the news. He knew Whitly, you see, in India.”

“Then he must know—”

“Lady Illston, how pleased I am to see you,” interrupted Lady Eleanor. She had just entered with Mama, and obviously meant to silence Mari’s staunch support of Peter. They’d been counseling her all day to reserve her opinion until she saw which way the winds were blowing.

Mari steadfastly ignored them.

Meanwhile, Lady Illston was straightening up off the settee again to greet the other women. Which was when Mari took the time to redirect her thoughts. She needed to gather information, to find out what had happened between Peter and his father, Peter and the prince, Peter and God only knew who. But that information wasn’t available now, and obviously Lady Illston would be of no help with it.

Which meant she needed to stop learning things and start changing things. She must sway the tide of public opinion away from the earl and toward Peter. And that task began with taking control of the conversation.

And that began with tea.

She ordered a new tea tray and made sure she was the one who served. It was a simple matter of grabbing the pot and interrupting anyone she wished to be silent with a simple question.

“Lady Eleanor, do you take cream?”

“Mama, I know you hate sugar, but do try one of these cakes.”

“Lady Illston, let the footman take that old cup away. I’ll make you a fresh one.”

And when everyone was silenced with their drinks, Mari began the conversation as she wanted it to go.

“I’m so glad you came today, Lady Illston. I’m very excited about tonight’s ball, you see, and wondered if you could give me a hint. Please tell me if you think Lord Whitly has managed to teach Greenie a new phrase. I am in such a state of anxiety to know if he has succeeded.”

Lady Illston blinked at her, and no wonder. With the momentous news of the earl’s arrest on everyone’s tongues, she could not grasp that Mari’s greatest concern was their ridiculous wager.

But that was Mari’s plan. She must reassert the trivial as the most important news of the day, then everything would settle back to normal. Peter’s part in his father’s arrest would fade beneath the weight of the inconsequential question of whether he’d taught a phrase to a parakeet. And if that was the most pressing concern, then clearly England’s peasants were not about to rebel, Madame Guillotine would not be established in Hyde Park, and everything would be exactly as it was yesterday. Except, of course, a highborn thief would still be in gaol because—thank God—the English courts did not run on the tide of public opinion.

That was the plan. The question was: Would Lady Illston take the bait?

“Er…um, Miss Powel, you know I cannot disclose anything about what Greenie will or won’t say.”

Nonsense. She’d been trading on this wager for weeks now. According to her, her ball would be the event of the Season. Everyone needed to know the outcome of Miss Powel’s scandalous wager with Lord Whitly.

“But you must give me a hint,” she pleaded. “Surely you see that I must prepare myself…” She let her voice trail off suggestively. After all, the wager was that she would have to kiss him if he succeeded with Greenie.

“Well, as to that, I can say that he has not spent a great deal of time with Greenie. Not at all what I expected.”

“Ah. Then I will be able to exact a punishment.” She didn’t relish winning this wager, and wasn’t that a surprise?

“Er, possibly not,” Lady Illston hedged. “You see, I have lately come to learn that…er…well, my butler, it appears, has been working on Lord Whitly’s behalf.”

Of course he was. Peter had already told her he’d bribed the man. “Oh dear,” she murmured with false dismay.

“Yes, well, you see, that’s why I came to see you today. I could rule this as cheating. He did bribe my butler.” She shook her head in dismay. “I lay the blame completely at my father’s feet. He’s the one who promoted the man to butler, and naturally, I couldn’t fire him. He’s been working for us for generations.”

“How awkward,” Mari agreed. “When I become mistress of my own home, I will dispense with butlers altogether. To a man, they are an unreliable, difficult lot!” She made her pronouncement especially dramatic to move the conversation in that direction. Problems with servants were a common complaint among the upper crust. And as easy as that, Lady Illston swallowed the bait.

“Oh, you cannot know how I suffer at that man’s hands!” She went for another ten minutes, detailing her butler’s perfidy.

Perfect.

But eventually, she wandered back to the point of her visit. “So, do you wish to cry off my ball tonight? To use Lord Whitly’s cheating as the excuse?”

And there it was, just as she’d prayed at the beginning of the Season. She had the perfect opportunity to punish Lord Whitly in full view of the ton. All she had to do was take this pretend insult and use it to turn her back on him. To declare to all the world that he was beneath her, though he was the son of an earl and she a wealthy cit. Everyone would know it was a condemnation of his actions against his father.