Page 4 of Rules for a Wicked Wager

“Doesn’t matter,” Lady Illston said with obvious glee. And why not? She and her bird were at the center of a contest that would entertain the ton throughout the Season. “An excellent suggestion, my lord. Excellent indeed.”

“You mean,” Mari said slowly, “that whoever teaches Greenie a new word first gets a public apology from the other?”

“Yes, yes,” said Lady Illston. “It’s a perfect idea.”

It was a ridiculous idea, but the thought of him on bended knee before her, begging her forgiveness, was something she’d imagined for six years. It was her nightly ritual.

She looked at the bird and thought things through. She’d spent a great deal of time with Greenie lately. That meant she had more of a rapport with the creature than Lord Whitly, who’d just returned to London.

“But what word could I teach him?” she wondered aloud.

“Can’t tell,” said Dim #12. “Otherwise everyone else would take sides and be forever speaking it to the bird.”

“Very true,” agreed Dim #13, “but we must have a judge. Someone who knows the words.”

“And equal time to teach Greenie,” inserted Lady Illston. “I shall be the judge of that, as they must come to my house.”

Lord Whitly bowed to Lady Illston, charm oozing from him. “You will make an honorable judge. I feel secure in your hands.”

The lady pinkened and tittered beneath her fan. Which meant he’d already gotten her in his pocket.

“But the words,” Mari pressed. “They must be simple. I shall whisper them to you, Lady Illston, and you cannot tell anyone, or you shall end the whole contest.”

Mari thought herself very clever for that part, because truthfully, Lady Illston could not keep a secret any more than she could keep her fan still. Within a day, all of Society would know the words, and that would be the end of this charade.

“Well, come on then,” Lady Illston urged.

Mari leaned over and whispered, “Happy day.”

Lady Illston seemed to approve. “Very proper,” she said with a nod. “Now, Lord Whitly, it must be two words. Come, come, what do you select?”

“This is a difficult decision, but I must say what comes to mind. Lady Illston, forgive the impertinence.” Then he leaned over and slowly brushed the hair away from her ear.

The woman giggled as he made a show of whispering his words. Then she gasped as her fan pressed against her mouth. “Oh my, Lord Whitly. Oh my, indeed!”

“Not a word, or the game’s up. You can do that, can you not, Lady Illston?”

“Oh my, yes. Oh my, of course.”

Good Lord, he’d reduced the woman to a babbling idiot. Just what had he said? Lady Illston’s color was up, and her eyes were bright. “Just a moment,” Mari said. “If I am to be the center of gossip again, I should like the forfeit to be worth it.”

“An apology isn’t enough?” Lord Whitly asked.

Mari wanted something much better than words. She lifted her chin and told him her fantasy in detail. After all, she’d been dreaming it for six years.

“I want you on one knee, my lord, with flowers in your hand and the apology on your lips. And you will not get up from that position until you make me believe you are sincere.”

“Brilliant!” cried Dim #7. The man had joined the group during that last pronouncement. “He’ll be there for a week.”

Yes, he would, and that would be her revenge.

She looked at Lord Whitly and knew a moment’s triumph. No man would open himself up to such a forfeit. He’d be humiliated and possibly physically damaged. But instead of crying off, he bowed his head.

“I accept. But I shall add to your forfeit then as well.”

“Am I to be on bended knee?”

“Certainly not. You will allow me a kiss.”