Page 1 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

Chapter One

Disaster came to Hyde Park on the words of a parakeet. One word, repeated twice.

“Winner, winner!”

Normally the thing said slightly rude words like “clodhopper” or “bawdy basket.” But this time, his words foretold disaster. If only Mari Powel had understood their import.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t her bird. The creature had been brought back from India by Lord Illston and its bawdy tongue quickly made it a ton favorite. It was so popular that Lady Illston allowed a different eligible lady to carry its heavy cage across Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Today was Mari’s turn, but her shoulders were not up to the task.

“Did you hear that?” Mari asked as she took the excuse to set the cage down. “I believe that’s a new word.”

Lady Illston peered owlishly at the bird. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Mari looked hopefully at the two gentlemen strolling beside them. Both were young and handsome but sadly dim. “Did you hear it?”

“I was listening to your beauteous voice,” crooned one. She’d mentally labeled him Dim #12. She’d already exchanged pleasantries with Dims number one through eleven.

“I wasn’t speaking,” she said, wondering if she dared smile indulgently at him, as one might a slightly stupid younger brother. “He said ‘winner, winner’.”

“By Jove, are you sure?” asked Dim #13.

“Yes, I’m—”

“That must mean he’s here,” Dim #13 interrupted. He popped off his hat and scanned the park with narrowed eyes.

“Who’s here?”

“Winner, winner, of course,” answered Dim #12 as he too scanned the crowd. “By Jove, there he is!” He started waving his arm above his head. “Over here! Over here! There’s a parrot for you!”

A parakeet, she corrected silently as she tried to see what had gotten them so excited. She couldn’t. Neither could Lady Illston, so they stood in awkward silence as the Dims continued their vulgar display.

“Please, stop jumping…” Mari began, but then one of them stumbled sideways. Finally, she saw the object of their adoration. “Winner,” she whispered, dread lodging in her throat. Of course it was him. The one man who always won, making her the woman who lost.

Quickly, she picked up the birdcage, barely stifling her groan at the weight. Then she tugged on Lady Illston’s arm.

“I believe your dear friend Lady Tennesley is over there. Let’s go see.”

“What? No, I want to meet—”

“Oh, she’s waving. She probably knows some juicy gossip.”

But Lady Illston would not be distracted. “Really, Miss Powel, it’s quite ill-bred to tug on someone’s sleeve.”

Of course it was, but the lady hadn’t objected to the gentlemen’s behavior, had she? Meanwhile, social disaster was a few feet away and closing fast.

“Winner! Winner!” cried the parakeet.

“Let’s go over there!” Mari tried again.

Too late.

A deep voice she remembered in her nightmares spoke in that jovial tone of his. “Hullo, Greenie, how are you today?”

“Winner! Winner!”

“Of course you are. Such a magnificent bird.”

Lady Illston tugged on Mari’s sleeve. “Quick. Give him a treat. We must reward proper behavior.”