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Triumph surged through Mirabelle.
It didn’t matter if she lost or won. Either way, she’d secured another meeting with Lord Boxby. Potentially several. And with that time…
Excitement coursed through her. Not about spending time with Boxby, she assured herself. The anticipation that made her tingle all over was because of what she might accomplish with the baron’s help.
“Shall we shake?” she asked, her breath catching as a stir started about them. A quick glance back confirmed that Emily had appeared in the doorway. Was his verbal confirmation enough to hold him to the bargain?
Because any moment now, one of her brothers was sure to erupt. They were like clockwork in that regard, and she fully intended to use that to her advantage.
“Very well,” he answered, slipping his fingers into hers.
Her breath caught at his touch, the firm, strong grip of his hand. She looked up at him, her hand still in his larger one as her lips parted in surprise.
Why did this moment feel far more significant than a simple wager?
The organ began to play, but Mirabelle hardly noticed as she stared at Boxby and attempted to find her feet again. She felt as though they’d been swept out from under her.
“Is this over yet? When’s breakfast?” Fulton called over the music, all of her brothers laughing at his words.
But his voice ringing out broke whatever spell had engulfed her. She pulled her fingers from Boxby’s, her breath letting out in a rush of victory. “I shall see you at nine tomorrow morning in the music room.”
Boxby’s jaw clenched, his brows drawing together. “I’ve been had.”
Inwardly she crowed with the victory, but outwardly, Mirabelle shrugged. As though she didn’t have a care. “Not at all, my lord. They might have behaved.”
His gaze narrowed as he assessed her. “May I ask why the music room at nine?”
“I need help with my dancing and my brothers will still be sleeping at that hour.” In her head she added, because they will be drinking deep into the night. But she decided not to let the baron know exactly how much wine he’d be parting with on this day.
Emily glided down the aisle, and Boxby pivoted to give his sister a nod of encouragement as they passed.
She grinned at him and then at Mirabelle, giving the smallest wave.
Boxby’s mouth pinched as they kept moving toward the front, only stopping when they reached Ace.
But she didn’t watch as Lord Baldwin placed Emily’s hand in Ace’s. Instead, she noted the deepening grimace on Boxby’s face.
“Do you wish that you’d escorted her?”
He let out a long breath as he looked down at Mirabelle once again. She knew that by right, it should have been Boxby. He was the head of the family and the one who had raised Emily. But their father’s brother had requested the honor… “Yes.” The word slipped from his lips, so forthright and honest she was taken aback. “But this is the first of many times that I won’t be the one caring for my sister.”
Mirabelle could hear the sadness in his words. Which honestly came as a shock. She’d always assumed she and Anna were a burden to their brothers, who rolled their eyes enough that she’d never questioned that the two girls were an obligation.
She glanced back at them, their pained expressions making it clear that this wedding was the worst sort of familial obligation known to man.
Looking forward again, she focused on Emily and Ace as they spoke the vows that would make them man and wife.
The moment was so…romantic.
Her breath caught as she forgot about her brothers behind her, focusing instead on the joy that lit both Ace and Emily’s features.
She clasped her hands, holding them in front of her heart as she forgot about her own dreams to elevate herself and her family and considered what Emily and Ace had gained.
Something niggled inside her. There was a depth here.
“Are they going to kiss already,” Gris growled. “What a bunch of sentimental bullshi—”
She turned around, giving Gris a sharp glare, a single finger jutting toward his chest. “Don’t.”
