She feels responsible for her sisters, much like I felt for my brothers. Until this moment, he’d never considered what made Rose who she was. Now he’d been given a glimpse and he found that he wanted to know more. “It’s a pity you can’t get my great-aunt to take your sisters under her wing. She likes nothing more than finding wives and husbands for unsuspecting unmarried people.”
Her lips quirked. “I assume that you’re speaking from experience.”
“After I inherited my title, both my grandmother and Aunt Margaret made certain that neither I, nor my two brothers, had another day of peace.”
Rose grinned and then gave the closed door an arch look. “If the duchess is as scheming as you say, then we should see what she’s doing.”
“Yes, there’s no reason to let her weave her webs in peace.” Sin opened the door and then bowed. “After you.”
“Thank you.” Rose entered the parlor and Sin followed.
Ten
From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
There are times when I’m struck by my own brilliance. Today was one of those times.
The small parlor was beautiful. The walls were covered with colorful Chinese paper depicting a fanciful garden scene of flowers. Thick rose and gold rugs covered the floor, while a grouping of gold, feather-stuffed settees flanked a marble fireplace. Chairs and small tables were artfully placed to encourage conversation.
Lady Charlotte was seated at a small desk before a broad set of windows. Aunt Margaret, Miss Isobel, and Lady McFarlane were all clustered there, holding various amounts of money, eager expressions on their faces. They briefly looked up as Rose and Sin entered, and Aunt Margaret’s gaze narrowed before she turned back to Lady Charlotte.
“Two shillings for making a bull’s-eye,” Miss Isobel said.
“Which contestant?” Lady Charlotte asked.
“Myself.”
Lady Charlotte had started to hold out her hand for the coins, but stopped and looked up at Aunt Margaret. “Can she set a wager on herself?”
“I can bet for myself, but not against,” Miss Isobel said impatiently. “Isn’t that right, your grace?”
Margaret nodded with authority as if she’d been banker in numerous other gambling enterprises. “Of course.”
“Very well.” Lady Charlotte took Miss Isobel’s coins, counted them, stored them in a small tin box at her elbow, and then dipped her pin into an inkwell and made a mark in a large ledger. “There. You’re in the book.”
“What book?” Sin asked.
Aunt Margaret frowned. “The Roxburghe Betting Book.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“If you visited more often, there would be fewer surprises.”
Charlotte patted the book with visible enthusiasm. “It’s leather, just like the one at White’s gentlemen’s club.” At Sin’s astonished look she added, “Or so I’ve heard.”
“Hmm.” What is Aunt Margaret into now?
Lady McFarlane leaned on her cane to place a dirty shilling and a bent penny on the desk beside the book. “I’ll put all of my money on dear Miss Muriella.”
Lady Charlotte made a show of counting the money, and then stored it in the tin box.
She started to enter the bet in the book, but Miss Isobel held up a hand. “Lady Charlotte, wait a moment. Lady McFarlane, I hate to see you lose your money.”
“I’m not going to lose it; I’m going to double it. The odds are two-to-one.”
“They’re that high because my sister isn’t very good. We often have tournaments at our home and the poor dear isn’t at fault, of course, but she can’t see very well and her aim is—”
“Ha! Trying to talk me out of my wager, are you?” Lady McFarlane waved a bony finger at Miss Isobel. “It won’t work. I’m rather good at wagers. I won two pounds just last month from Lord Poole. Lady Charlotte, please record my wager.” She gripped her cane and started hobbling toward the door. “I have my own reasons for wagering on Miss Muriella.”
Looking injured, Miss Isobel said, “Fine. I just thought you should know that she can barely see across a room, much less a target set at a distance.”
“I know what she can and can’t do, blast it.” Lady McFarlane paused in the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to claim a seat in the pavilion before the festivities begin.” With that, she hobbled out.
“I should get ready, too,” Miss Isobel said. “Thank you both for keeping track of our wagers.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Aunt Margaret said, and Sin was certain it was. No one loved being the center of attention more than his aunt.
Miss Isobel bobbed a curtsy and started to leave, though she paused before Rose. “Miss Balfour, of all those in the contest, your skills are the least known. Do you often shoot?”
“When time permits,” Rose said in a demure voice that anyone who knew her would realize was a complete sham.
Miss Isobel nodded. “We’ll see, then.”
“Oh yes,” Rose agreed.
Miss Isobel smiled, her expression one of polite disbelief, though she continued to question Rose about her experience, while Rose easily sidestepped each question with a vague answer.
Charlotte closed the book and stood.
“Hold,” Sin said, coming to the desk. “I wish to place a wager.”
Aunt Margaret frowned. “On whom?”
“Rose.”
Aunt Margaret hesitated. “Do you think that’s wise? You and Miss Balfour have drawn enough attention as it is. People will notice that you’ve placed a wager on her.”
Lady Charlotte nodded. “They might talk.” She looked around the room and then leaned forward to say in a loud whisper, “Some might think you’d bribed the gel to toss the match.”
“I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,” Sin said.
“It happens,” Lady Charlotte said.
“Frequently,” Aunt Margaret agreed.
“You two are incorrigible,” Sin muttered.
“And then there was that little scene you and Miss Balfour played out in the hallway off the foyer, my dear,” Aunt Margaret said. “You must be more circumspect.”
He stiffened. She’d overheard that, had she? Damn it! He should have been more cautious. Though he wished to seduce Rose, he had no desire to entrap either of them into anything more than an enjoyable seduction. And all of the joy and unfettered amusement of it would be forever marred if he and Rose were caught in flagrante delicto and then weighted down with yet more responsibilities than life had already given them.
“And,” Aunt Margaret continued, “you can start keeping the gossips at bay by not placing wagers on her, which will only set people’s tongues to wagging.”
Lady Charlotte nodded. “People will talk even more.”
“What if I only put a very small wager on her?” He pulled out some folded bills and placed them beside the closed book. “Ten pounds on Rose—”
“Ten pounds?” Lady Charlotte’s eyes couldn’t get any wider.
“After the debacle with Mr. Stewart, we’re only accepting shilling wagers.” Aunt Margaret shot a look toward Rose and Miss Isobel, then she leaned forward and said, “And please think this through.”
“If it helps make things seem less obvious, then I’ll place a wager on every woman in the contest. Then no one will think anything of the one I place on Miss Balfour.”
Lord Cameron stuck his head in the room. “Lady Charlotte, did you record my wager on Miss Isobel?”
Charlotte picked up the tin and rattled it. “It’s already recorded in the book.”
He beamed. “Thank you.” He caught sight of Miss Isobel and Rose standing off to the side and he flushed. “Sorry, Miss Balfour. I didn’t see you or Miss Stewart.” He bowed. “I wish you both good luck in the contest, of course.”
“Of course.” Miss Isobel smiled smugly. “Thank you for the wager. I’ll do my utmost to see that you get a handsome return.”
“I’m certain you wil
l, Miss Stewart.” He offered a gallant bow and then left.
Before Sin could press his case, Aunt Margaret said, “Lady Charlotte and I must get ready for the contest now.” She looked at Rose and Miss Isobel and called out, “As should the two of you.”
“It is getting late, isn’t it?” Miss Isobel bade Rose good-bye and hurried out the door.
Charlotte gathered the huge leather book and the tin box and walked to the door with the duchess, who paused to look back at Rose.
“Miss Balfour, aren’t you coming?”
“Yes, but I need to put on some walking shoes before the contest. I also wish to have a word with Lord Sinclair. We will leave the doors open for propriety’s sake.”
Aunt Margaret sighed. “Fine.” She glanced at her nephew. “Don’t keep Miss Balfour long.” With a hard glance at them both, she left, Lady Charlotte trailing behind.
Sin leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So, Miss Balfour, what did you wish to speak to me about?”
Rose’s mouth thinned. “The duchess is being very unfair in not allowing you to wager, as it appears that everyone else can.”
“That surprised me, too. She’s trying to accomplish something with it, I just don’t know what.”
“Then let us make our own wager. We will have our private archery contest once the women have finished.”
He smiled. “You really believe you can best me?”
“Absolutely.”
His brows lifted. “That’s a rather bold statement.”
“Perhaps I am a bold woman.” He looked surprised, and she didn’t blame him. Until she’d come to Floors Castle, she’d never before realized how bold she could be. When she was home, she was in charge of so many things—dinners and the household, managing their meager finances, and trying to purchase the right horses to breed for income once their current jointure ran out. But at Floors, her only responsibility was to take care of herself, and she found the freedom exhilarating.
She was here for only a few short weeks and then she’d return home, back to her old life and cares. If she didn’t take advantage of this time, savor the freedom she did have, would she ever have the chance again?
Suddenly energized, she marched to the desk Aunt Charlotte had just vacated. “We’ll write it down, too, so that there are no misunderstandings.” She pulled a scrap of foolscap from a drawer and opened the inkwell. “Her grace had the contest prepared with three rings and a bull’s-eye. If you hit outside the rings, you get no points. Inside the first ring you get five points. Then ten for the second ring, fifteen for the inner ring, and twenty-five for the bull’s-eye.”
“Simple. I like that. So whoever has the most points wins?”
That seemed fair. She wrote it down and then looked at her paper. “And what will our wager be? Ten shillings? Twenty?”
“Oh no, my lovely Rose.” His voice had lowered to a purr. “We will wager something more . . . personal.”
She put the pen down, her pulse racing. “That sounds intriguing.” And oh, how she longed to accept. But did she dare? She’d come to Floors Castle for her sisters’ sake, yet she kept getting distracted by Sin’s presence. She thought of the duchess’s stern expression before leaving the room and sighed. “No. I would like to make a more exciting wager, but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I came to Floors with the hope that your godmother might invite my sisters to her amusements, so that they could meet a better quality of suitor. I’d be selfish to ruin that for them. I’ve already ruined so much for them with my rash conduct before; I cannot be rash again.” She fidgeted with the pen, tapping it against the inkwell. “For the record, living with such a trussed-up sense of propriety is a true pain.”
“It chafes your fair skin, does it?”
“Worse than wool. But it’s how society works. No one said it was fair.”
“No, it’s not.” He regarded her through half-closed eyes as if he were seeing past her.
She dipped her pen into the inkwell. “About our wager, then. Since we’re boring old proper sorts, shall we say a shilling per point?”
“No. I’ll not accept such a tame wager from you.”
“Then you’ll not bet.” Her commonsense voice was back in place.
Disappointed, he frowned. “It’s not fair that you have to follow propriety when it’s never done a damn thing for you.”
A faint smile touched Rose’s lips. “If propriety will give my sisters successful marriages, I’ll forever bow in its direction.”
“You and I are too much alike to take such a tame road.”
She gave a little laugh. “I wish that were true, but I have to do what’s best for my sisters.” She tilted her head to one side, a thoughtful look on her face. “I wonder why her grace invited me. I’m enjoying myself, of course, but I rarely hear from her and . . . ” Rose shrugged. “Whatever the reason, it was very kind of her.”
Kindness? Or something more? There was no telling what schemes were floating in Aunt Margaret’s head. But then, he’d been the one to insist on inviting Rose. He frowned, thinking back to the letter he’d received from his aunt. He hadn’t thought of it before, but why had she bothered to list her so-called “favorite goddaughters” unless she wanted him to know those names, too? She’d known he’d searched for Rose all of those years ago—he’d made no secret of it. Could it be that she’d read something into that search?
He frowned. Bloody hell, she’s done it again.
“If you don’t wish to wager, just say so,” Rose said, and he realized he’d been scowling.
“I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else.” Like ways to murder my meddling great-aunt. “If you’re so concerned about your reputation, then we’ll put that in the wager as well. That it is to be paid in private, and only if it’s completely and utterly safe.”
“I suppose we could do that . . . ”
He could tell by her husky voice that she was tempted. “Maybe you’d rather wager on something easier than archery?”
“Archery is fine. I’m also very good at bocce ball, pall-mall, and, if I must and it’s raining, marbles.”
He placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned forward. “Then make a wager, Rose. A real one. Live a little.”
Her eyes lit with excitement. “We’d be very cautious?”
“Very.”
“And no one would know?”
“Never. I’ve no more wish to get caught doing something improper than you, for I’ve no wish to marry.”
She looked horrified. “Lud, no.”
Torn between insult and amusement, he said, “Good. I feel the same. Shall we wager?”
“Very well. What do you suggest?”
“A touch. One for every point I win by.”
“What kind of a touch?”
“Any kind I wish. Any place I wish.”
Her startled gaze locked with his and he wondered if she’d refuse. Instead, she said in a challenging voice, “I may win.”
“Then you may touch me.”
“Any place?”
“And for however long you wish.”
She looked at the foolscap and bit her lip.
His groin tightened at the sight of her white, even teeth worrying her plump lip. Never had he wanted a woman like he wanted her.
She let her breath out in a whoosh. “That sounds fair.” She picked up the pen. “In private. Where no one could see or catch us.”
“Of course.”
She toyed with the pen. “Then there will be no risks.”
“None.”
A smile slipped over her face. “Very well.” She dipped the pen into the inkwell and wrote out their wager. When she finished, she signed it, and then slid it across the desk to him.
Sin signed it as well, his body quickening at the thought of winning . . . or losing. After he handed the note back to her, she sanded it, folded it in half, and then stood, tucking the note into her pocket. “Done. I must go an
d shoot in the first match. Will you be joining the others to watch the other matches afterward?”
He bowed. “Of course.”
“Then I shall change.” She headed for the door, calling over her shoulder, “I hope you don’t mind losing, Sin. For you will.”
But she was wrong. He’d already won, and at the end of this contest was the most intriguing prize of all—Rose.
Grinning, he waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps and then he left, whistling.
Eleven
From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
Goodness, what a fracas! There were arrows and fire and blood and, lud, I don’t know what else. I don’t know when I was ever more entertained. I shall have to plan more archery events for my parties.
Sin stood on the terrace and watched an array of footmen place bow stands hung with colorful quivers at the shooting area twenty paces from the targets, which gleamed with fresh red paint. Each bow stand held arrows painted a different color—either gold, silver, or bronze—all of them twinkling brightly in the afternoon sun. Aunt Margaret is certainly making this dramatic.
As if in answer to his thought, two footmen appeared carrying large rolls of brightly colored ribbon, which they tied to the corners of the viewing pavilion. The wind instantly caught them and made them dance about, adding a festive air, and mirroring the colorful cushions placed upon the white lounging chaises that sat in a line beneath the white tent. Aunt Margaret, Lady McFarlane, Miss Fraser, and Mrs. Stewart were already reclining on chaises while a footman served them iced lemonade and grapes. “Like bloody Romans ready to watch the Christians get eaten by lions,” Sin murmured, shaking his head.
“Ah, Sinclair!” Mr. Munro came up to him, huffing from his stroll across the lawn. “Lady Charlotte just decided to join the contest, which should be quite amusing.”
“So there will be four participants, then.”
“Just enough for a proper match. I’m about to join the other men in the billiards room. Care to join us?”
“Perhaps.”
Noting that Sin was watching the activity at the archery area, Munro added, “There’s a good view of the women from the billiards room, if you’re interested in seeing their little competition.”