Page 122 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

He smiled. He loved it when she grew animated. When she stopped obsessing about being wayward and stepped into her full self. Here was the woman he remembered from six years ago. And she was so very much more today than she’d been back then.

“I love you,” he said. Glorious to finally say those words aloud. Heaven to finally see the woman he’d first fallen for six years ago at last come to a beautiful life.

But at his words, she suddenly stilled. Her mouth grew slack in shock, and her eyes widened to an absurd degree. She stared at him. Worse, she gaped at him as if he hadn’t been feeling these things from the very first day. When she’d showed him her intelligence, her perception, and that fire that burned so bright and in such a waywardly Welsh direction.

He loved her to the depths of his soul.

And now, he realized, was her perfect moment. Now when he’d at last bared his heart and soul to her, she could publicly destroy him.

Chapter Thirty-One

He loved her.

She might have imagined those words, except he looked as startled as she was. And perhaps a little chagrined. But he didn’t change his words. Instead, he gave her a rueful smile.

“Do it now, Mari,” he said in an undertone. “You will never have a better audience.”

“Do what?”

He sighed. “Declare yourself free of me. It is the only way to have any standing among them. You can’t do anything you want with me as an anchor about your neck.”

“Oh.” Was that what he wanted? The thought crushed her until reason reassured itself.

No, that was what he expected. She could understand why. A few weeks ago, she would have. When they’d made the wager, she’d intended to. But she’d changed this Season. And how odd a thing change was. She hadn’t even recognized the shift within herself until it was already done.

When had she started speaking her mind?

When had she begun to value her own thoughts?

When had she felt wild and reckless and ignored everyone else’s opinion?

When she’d fallen in love. Not only with Peter, but with herself too. With the wayward woman she could be. In a gown with lace and embroidery, in a tavern maid’s bartered dress, and in his arms. Most especially in his arms.

She looked about her, seeing the hundreds of eyes trained on her and Peter. He was right. There would never be a better time to declare herself than right here, right now. And so she gestured to Lady Illston, who came quickly to her side.

“Miss Powel, the dancing will begin—”

“Quite right,” Mari interrupted. “You want to begin the ball, so we should dispense with this silly wager as soon as can be.”

“Now?” That wasn’t what the lady wanted, but Mari had no interest in prolonging the suspense.

“Lord Whitly and I are both ready, and besides, I begin to fear for Greenie’s health.”

“What? He seems fine.” Indeed, if it were possible for a bird to thrive on attention, it would be this parakeet.

“Stress is not good for a bird.”

“Oh, very well. If you insist.”

She did. And so Lady Illston began waving people away.

The dowagers didn’t move at first. They were standing in a protective wall behind Mari, but at her nod, they reluctantly stomped aside. The crowd quieted immediately. Lady Illston had no need to clap her hands to get everyone’s attention, but she did it anyway. This, after all, was her great moment.

“Everyone, everyone! Weeks ago, Lord Whitly and Miss Powel entered into a droll little wager with my Greenie. Which of them could teach the bird a new phrase first? I was honored to be selected as judge, along with the esteemed Ladies Jersey, Castlereigh, and Cowper.”

The women in question stepped forward, patronesses of Almack’s and the most powerful purveyors of female opinion. Mari smiled at them. They nodded warmly at her and gave Peter the barest of glances.

“Naturally,” continued Lady Illston, “Miss Powel was concerned about the propriety of such a thing, but we four here have declared this wager proper.” She dimpled as she looked about the room. “All in good fun,” she declared.