Page 1 of The Spinster’s Secret Stake

ONE

A quaint cottage along Montpelier Row

Blackheath, England

19 April 1819—Nearly three in the afternoon

Four months…

Almost four months since Roxina had seen or heard from either Shelby Tellinger or her rapscallion brother, Mitchel. The former she could not help but worry about, even though she had treated him abominably for most of their acquaintance.

The latter?

Well, the years of deliberate and calculated cruelty and neglect Mitchel had inflicted upon her had long since destroyed any warmer sentiments she might once have felt for her elder half-brother.

Ruminating changes nothing, Roxina Veronica Jillian Danforth.

With firm determination, she shoved thoughts of Shelby and Mitchel aside as she carefully arranged the Shrewsbury and ginger biscuits on the geranium-green Spode china. Another plate held several small triangular sandwiches.

If not for Aubriella Matherfield allowing her to live rent-free in this cottage she had inherited from her aunt, Astrid Penford, Roxina did not know what would have become of her.

Familiar anxiety knotted her stomach and tensed her nerves.

Out of habit, she closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then straightened. Gradually, she released the pent-up air as she mentally counted—one, two, three, four, five.

The childhood routine still calmed her, even though she had more security now than in over a decade—thanks to her benevolent friend and the regular income generated by banking the secret wagers placed by ladies of the haut ton and others.

And… the mysterious, anonymous envelopes with cash arriving at regular intervals.

So far, the funds totaled five and seventy pounds—not an immense sum, but enough to keep her in comfort should she choose to spend the money.

However, Roxina refused to do so.

At least, for now.

Instead, she slipped each pound note inside a gothic romance novel in the drawing room. Several romance volumes graced the bookshelf, revealing that, despite her spinster status, Miss Penford had possessed a romantic’s heart.

Roxina did not have time to ponder that irregularity at the moment, for it just might have had her considering her lonely future as a spinster with a more jaundiced eye than she would allow herself to.

Nevertheless, a tempting notion gnawed at her.

What if she wagered the funds?

A secret bet.

A scandalous stake.

A daring toss of the dice?

A wager might even yield enough to secure her independence.

At the naughty notion, a tiny thrill tripped across her shoulders.

But on what?

A horse race?

A high-stakes card game?