The Courtesan's Wager Read Free

gesture, as it would clearly require too much effort. “Perhaps you could give us your opinion on an important matter, something Amelia and I were just discussing.”
    “That would have to be which duke she hopes to marry?” he replied, checking his fingernails distractedly.
    As Amelia was drawing breath to insult him, Eleanor answered, “Yes and no. I have been urging Amelia to seek out Lady Dalby for assistance. Certainly no other woman in Town would be . . . that is, could know . . .” Eleanor’s voice trailed off, because how to say it? It was one thing to discuss these things as women, but with a man present, even such a man as Hawksworth happened to be, it was somewhat off-putting.
    “How to snare a man into an inescapable net of matrimony? ” Hawks offered cordially.
    “Yes, something like that,” Eleanor said. “What do you think, Hawks? Do you think the idea has merit?”
    “What have you got to lose, Amelia?” he said.
    “My dignity? My respectability?” Amelia shot back, bolting off the sofa and beginning to pace the room.
    “If you want to ensnare a duke, you’ll likely lose those anyway, Amy,” he said, using the name he had called her when they had lived out their days in the nursery. It stopped Amelia cold. “You’ve been respectable and above reproach, why not try another tack to get what you want? Within reason, assuredly.”
    Perhaps there was some small morsel of truth in his observation. Forming an attachment should have been so simple, if one approached marriage logically and with clear goals. Which she did and she would. No mere man would be allowed to make a tangle of her plans.
    “I had expected things to proceed along an entirely different course,” she said calmly. “A course bound by amiable civility and a manner above reproach. Yet another course might be necessary. Certainly a different course does not necessarily mean anything dire.”
    “If you want things to be different, I’d trust the Countess of Dalby for that,” Eleanor said. “She appears to excel at it, and things do seem ever to fall her way.”
    “That’s true enough,” Hawks said, shifting deeper into the upholstered chair, stretching his long legs toward the fire. “You have my approval, Amelia. You may speak to Lady Dalby.”
    “Blast it, Hawks! I wasn’t asking your permission!” Amelia snapped.
    Eleanor, that imp, giggled.

Two
    B EING a woman of composure and fortitude, not to mention some urgency, Amelia left Aldreth House as soon as she had harangued Hawks on general principle for a good five minutes, sought out Aunt Mary without much enthusiasm, changed into a lovely afternoon dress of ivory muslin sprigged in green silk thread, swallowed her annoyance to ask Hawksworth to chaperone her to Lady Dalby’s as Aunt Mary was not to be found, and then was made to wait while Hawks changed his linen before visiting as compelling a woman as Sophia Dalby.
    It was late in the afternoon by the time they got to Dalby House. Amelia, showing the singleness of purpose and strength of character that she hoped she was known for, insisted that Hawksworth remain outside. She was not going to allow him to listen to what was certain to be a most uncomfortable and unusual conversation. She was also not going to allow the call to degenerate into a polite seduction of and by Sophia, which it was certain to do. It appeared to happen any time any man was within ten feet of Sophia. Amelia, in most instances, found it fascinating. Today, however, it would have been singularly inconvenient.
    Hawks, because he was too lazy to even fight with vigor, passed her over to the Dalby House butler, and then promised to walk up and down Upper Brook Street until she should come back out.
    It was raining, but lightly now. Amelia didn’t feel one bit sorry for him. Perhaps the rain would wake him up.
    Amelia was shown into Sophia’s famous white salon, famous because it was rumored to contain a piece of rare porcelain that had been a