Page 148 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Ham-sized fists curled at Herr Wolf’s side. He marched back to Marcus. “If this is some kind of trick…”
“No trick. It’s my marriage license. As a gambling man, I’d say you have the indenture contract in your pocket.”
“I do.” A giant paw covered the Prussian’s heart. For all his cold control, the soldier had a tendre for Genevieve…at least his twisted version.
“Why not wager it?” Marcus asked quietly.
Herr Wolf stilled, and Marcus fanned the embers glowing in the beast’s eyes.
“You want to destroy what I have in my pocket, don’t you? Youhatethat she chose me over you.”
The Wolf’s nostrils flared.
“I’m not the strategist you are, but”—Marcus glanced at the waiting carriage—“could be you planned to kidnap Genevieve during the race. You’d have a hunt on your hands, a delay you don’t want.”
“What is your point,Englisch?”
“My point is she’s smart and she’s stubborn. Imagine the trouble ahead,” he argued. “Leaving for a covert mission with an Englishwoman making a ruckus, tossing around the Northampton name.Tsk, tsk.What would your Baron Bromberg have to say?”
Herr Wolf’s mouth pinched.
Marcus patted his chest where paper crinkled under his hand. “If you burn this, she’d have no legal argument, and we both know you want badly to destroy what I have.”
“I at least want to give her a better life. I did not think you so desperate as this.”
“For a chance to get back at you? Why not? You embarrassed me before my peers.”
“No, I mean to use her this badly.”
Marcus flinched. Couldn’t help it. The sordid transaction made him want to scrub his skin, but he carried on, playing the low card. For once, having a scoundrel’s reputation helped.
“Did you think I had feelings for the daughter of an actress? I crave excitement is all. These northern climes are cold and boring. It was fun for a time, but now I must do my duty to my family.”
At the starting post, the lad mounted the black. Lord Barnard stood at the edge of the gathering, Avo Thade shadowing him. Thade planted both hands on his hips, spreading his coat. Silver-trimmed flintlocks flanked his ribs. The Frisian’s black eyes zeroed in on Marcus—quiet, menacing, less docile than the day he drove a cart to Pallinsburn when the Wolf thought he’d collect his prize. He gave Marcus the barest nod before scanning the crowd. Brisk winds blew, but sweat trickled down Marcus’s temple. He swiped it with one finger.
“I would not tolerate you in my command,” Herr Wolf scoffed, pulling yellowing foolscap from his pocket. “The terms.”
The black pawed the ground. The stable master mounted the nervous bay filly, the horse’s eyes showing white. This had to be her first race.
A coppery taste coated Marcus’s mouth. “I win, the indenture is mine. I lose, I forfeit the marriage license.”
Baron Atal cupped his mouth. “Lord Bowles. Are you ready?”
He held up a hand. “A moment,” Marcus yelled and lowered his voice for the Prussian. “What say you?”
Wolf’s eyes flared wide. “You are more craven than I thought, using Genevieve like this.”
“Coming from a man who tricked her into servitude, I’ll take my chances on how you define what’s craven.” He fisted the reins. “Are you taking the wager or not?”
“With pleasure.Englisch.”
Baron Atal clapped his hands. “Gentlemen, the race is about to begin. Please conclude your wagers.”
Khan snorted, catching the excitement. Men buzzed around the footman keeping the book.
Marcus pulled a thrice-folded document from his pocket. “Do we agree that Mrs. Grey will hold the documents?”
He nodded. “She will do.”
