Page 52 of The Duke's Spinster

“I agree,” Joan said. “You should do it.”

“I can’t do it. None of you will be able to find a match, let alone the dukes we all agreed to snare.”

“We accept the consequences,” Mimi said, with a flip of her hand, “all of them. And if the dares are meant to be, we’ll still find a way to accomplish them. We have, none of us, backed down from a challenge.”

“True,” Nobi added. “We stand with you. Whatever you decide.”

Chapter Nineteen

NO.

NO.

NO.

IT rang through Wesley’s ears. No matter how much he drank, he couldn’t drown those two tenacious bastards. N, the wily sod couldn’t decide which way he was going up or down, so he couldn’t be caught. And O, the spurious cad. Just a giant hole. One that Wesley felt he was sinking into. How could two sneaky little letters pack such a blow? His sternum hurt. Why did his sternum hurt?

No. No. No.He reviled the word, especially when he heard it blast from her lips. It was one of the most powerful words in the English language. It was the word he should have said when Samuel asked him if he wanted to go out carousing after the ball. It was the word he should have said when the second bottle of whiskey was cracked open. It was the word he should have said when the Betting Buddies started a game of piquet. Thank God he had the presence of mind to say it when the buxom wench came and offered for him.

That was the only part of the evening he knew he wouldn’t regret. He had said no. And then he had said yes to a few more drinks. Thus, him cradling his head on the table.

Samuel and James were still swapping coins over another card game. White’s was crowded, as if all the gentlemen from the ball had trickled over to the club after the festivities but beforeheading home. He only hoped that none of them wanted to have a chitchat. He was in no mood to make small talk. Large talk. Or any kind of medium talk.

After Boudicca had left the four of them on the terrace, he hadn’t said much. Other than to accept their invitation to go out, so long as there would be drinking, he was in. The gambling had been a nice bonus, well, actually, it had been a slight drain on his cash, but the game was worth it. If only to be distracted for a short time.

If he went home, he knew what would greet him. His bed. Which he’d been avoiding. But even a restless sleep on the settee meant dreams. And his dreams meant Boudicca. He did not want to dream of her tonight. Better to avoid that for as long as possible. So he sat in his club in an awkward predicament. He neither wanted to be alone with his thoughts, nor did he want to talk.

“This isn’t like you, Wesley,” Christopher sank into the seat beside him where he had been temporarily observing the room.

“Saxby, really, now isn’t the time for chastisement,” Wesley mumbled.

“What would I be chastising you about?”

“Drinking. Betting. To name a couple.” Wesley lifted his head enough to peer out through bleary eyes.

Chris raised his glass in mockery. “No judgment here. Perchance, what betting are you referring to though? The piquet? Or…”

“Or.” Wesley declared.

“Well, in that case…yes, it seems you’re rather bollocks deep in that one.”

“Thanks for letting me know, you dolt.”

“Pleasure.”

Wesley dropped his head to the table, missing his forearm. Thwack!

“She’d probably say that you deserved that.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Wesley chuckled.

“How are you planning to get her back?”

“I’m not.”

“Really? The great Duke of Baskim is rolling over and accepting defeat over one measly little setback?”

“I wouldn’t call it measly.”

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