“Winning her?”
“Aye.” Grant glanced around before speaking to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Killian and Lachlan have returned—with news. Wait until you hear what has transpired. The
anonymous
bettor has doubled his bet…without having to escrow his additional stake.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.
Killian charged through the door to the ballroom with Lachlan at his heels. “Did you inform him, Grant?”
“I would have never believed it, but I know you must have a plan for this contingency, Sterling.” Lachlan tipped a glass to his lips and drained it of arrack punch.
Sterling looked quizzically at Grant. “There’s more you want to tell me, isn’t there?”
“Word hasn’t yet reached the ballroom, but it will, and we need to know our position before it does.” Grant urged Sterling away from the door.
“I am not sure what we ought to do now. White’s has taken an unprecedented measure and has opened this wager only, and its book, to the public as a whole.”
“The hell, you say.” Sterling scratched at the stubble beginning to breach the skin of his chin and began to pace.
This was an event he had not considered. He glanced up at each of his brothers, but he could see they all looked to him for direction. “Why do you stare at me so? The field has changed but the wager has not. It is of no consequence.”
He turned and started for the ballroom once more. None of his brothers followed. Doubt and, aye, a bit of worry too, was plain in their eyes. “Our exposure is no greater than we planned. This development, if anything at all, bolsters our chances of winning. More bettors to accept the wager.”
Through the open door of the ballroom, Sterling glimpsed Isobel standing before her father, head downcast. As if she felt his attention, she looked up at him, and a wisp of a smile appeared briefly upon her lips before she returned her gaze to her father.
Grant moved beside Sterling. “Aye, more potential bettors enhances our chances of winning—but only if you do not make your successful courtship of Miss Carington seem like a given. The irresistible lure of the wager was that she spurned you publicly.” He exhaled in disappointment. “Now look at the two of you. You are both smitten.”
Sterling stiffened at the accusation. “Nonsense.” For that was all it was, wasn’t it—utter nonsense?
Lachlan drew alongside Grant, and Killian came up shoulder to shoulder with Sterling. “Bah, he’s not smitten in the least, Grant. I believe our brother has a new strategy to encourage others to accept the wager.”
Killian leaned forward past Sterling and exchanged a concerned glance with Grant. “I hope you’ve got the right of it, Lachlan. I really do.”
Sterling started again to enter the glittering ballroom, but stopped short of the doors, thinking better of it.
He knew he could not battle the urge that pounded within him to rejoin Isobel. To take her into his arms on the dance floor…or wherever else she might consent to join him this night.
But his brothers were right. No one would take a bet he was sure to lose. He needed to separate himself from Miss Carington for a time. He couldn’t make it appear too easy to woo her.
Her huge brown eyes peered at him as he stood motionless in the doorway. His body reacted, forcing him to whirl around. He started for the staircase.
“Where are you going?” Grant called out.
Sterling maintained his course down the stairs and did not look back. “Please advise our sisters that we are leaving now.”
“But Sterling, they will not wish to go so soon,” Lachlan called back down to him.
“I don’t care in the least. Tell them.”
[_The next morning _
The Carington residence
Leicester Square
Isobel stood silently before her father’s desk, waiting for him to finish reading the morning paper. When at last he looked up, he bade her to sit down in the chair nearest his.
He removed his spectacles from his nose, and laid
“Aye.” Grant glanced around before speaking to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. “Killian and Lachlan have returned—with news. Wait until you hear what has transpired. The
anonymous
bettor has doubled his bet…without having to escrow his additional stake.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.
Killian charged through the door to the ballroom with Lachlan at his heels. “Did you inform him, Grant?”
“I would have never believed it, but I know you must have a plan for this contingency, Sterling.” Lachlan tipped a glass to his lips and drained it of arrack punch.
Sterling looked quizzically at Grant. “There’s more you want to tell me, isn’t there?”
“Word hasn’t yet reached the ballroom, but it will, and we need to know our position before it does.” Grant urged Sterling away from the door.
“I am not sure what we ought to do now. White’s has taken an unprecedented measure and has opened this wager only, and its book, to the public as a whole.”
“The hell, you say.” Sterling scratched at the stubble beginning to breach the skin of his chin and began to pace.
This was an event he had not considered. He glanced up at each of his brothers, but he could see they all looked to him for direction. “Why do you stare at me so? The field has changed but the wager has not. It is of no consequence.”
He turned and started for the ballroom once more. None of his brothers followed. Doubt and, aye, a bit of worry too, was plain in their eyes. “Our exposure is no greater than we planned. This development, if anything at all, bolsters our chances of winning. More bettors to accept the wager.”
Through the open door of the ballroom, Sterling glimpsed Isobel standing before her father, head downcast. As if she felt his attention, she looked up at him, and a wisp of a smile appeared briefly upon her lips before she returned her gaze to her father.
Grant moved beside Sterling. “Aye, more potential bettors enhances our chances of winning—but only if you do not make your successful courtship of Miss Carington seem like a given. The irresistible lure of the wager was that she spurned you publicly.” He exhaled in disappointment. “Now look at the two of you. You are both smitten.”
Sterling stiffened at the accusation. “Nonsense.” For that was all it was, wasn’t it—utter nonsense?
Lachlan drew alongside Grant, and Killian came up shoulder to shoulder with Sterling. “Bah, he’s not smitten in the least, Grant. I believe our brother has a new strategy to encourage others to accept the wager.”
Killian leaned forward past Sterling and exchanged a concerned glance with Grant. “I hope you’ve got the right of it, Lachlan. I really do.”
Sterling started again to enter the glittering ballroom, but stopped short of the doors, thinking better of it.
He knew he could not battle the urge that pounded within him to rejoin Isobel. To take her into his arms on the dance floor…or wherever else she might consent to join him this night.
But his brothers were right. No one would take a bet he was sure to lose. He needed to separate himself from Miss Carington for a time. He couldn’t make it appear too easy to woo her.
Her huge brown eyes peered at him as he stood motionless in the doorway. His body reacted, forcing him to whirl around. He started for the staircase.
“Where are you going?” Grant called out.
Sterling maintained his course down the stairs and did not look back. “Please advise our sisters that we are leaving now.”
“But Sterling, they will not wish to go so soon,” Lachlan called back down to him.
“I don’t care in the least. Tell them.”
[_The next morning _
The Carington residence
Leicester Square
Isobel stood silently before her father’s desk, waiting for him to finish reading the morning paper. When at last he looked up, he bade her to sit down in the chair nearest his.
He removed his spectacles from his nose, and laid
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