Read Online Wicked Wager by Beverley Eikli - Free Book Online

became his guardian and his soul went to the dogs.
    Suddenly he was aware of Cowdril and the vicar’s eyes upon him. He raised an enquiring brow.
    â€˜I said, what do you really think is behind this business with Carstairs?’ his host asked him. ‘Rumour has it he was found by your sister with a woman the last time he was seen. Can you confirm it? Everyone is close-lipped and I’ve no intention of making public something that would further distress poor jilted Miss Paige, but what do you know, Peregrine?’
    There was a very good reason Peregrine was an excellent poker player. ‘A false rumour, my lord,’ he murmured, ‘otherwise Charlotte would have said something.’
    Indeed, his hysterically inclined sister had said a great deal, though Perry had been glad when Charlotte reported that Xenia had counselled her not to make public the fact that she’d clearly identified Miss Rosington as the woman in question.
    The caveat, though, was now making Peregrine increasingly uncomfortable. Xenia had reassured Charlotte that when the time came for Miss Rosington to be revealed for the marriage-breaker she truly was, it would be done in ‘spectacular fashion’.
    But at the time Peregrine had agreed to becoming involved, Miss Rosington had been nothing more to him than a jezebel whose crime against his sister needed to be publicly exposed.
    However, each encounter with Miss Rosington seemed to suggest the case was not as clear-cut as he’d presumed. Certainly, there was something she wasn’t telling him, but Peregrine was becoming increasingly sceptical regarding Xenia’s adamant charges against the young woman.
    Not to mention increasingly susceptible to Miss Rosington’s damnably effective manner of combining sweetness and supposed innocence with an allure that promised a world of unknown delights, if he only trod carefully with her.
    Without a doubt, she was an enigma.
    Without a doubt, also, Miss Rosington must have had some knowledge as to where Harry Carstairs had been heading the night he jilted his sister, even if there was a plausible reason she’d been caught alone with him in a room strewn with petticoats. He had to acknowledge also that Harry Carstairs and Miss Rosington’s cousin and betrothed, Lord Ogilvy, were friends. The three would be well known to one another. Could there be some as yet unknown explanation behind the apparently mad scramble that night? One that had nothing to do with the conclusion to which Charlotte and Xenia had jumped and which he’d meekly accepted before he’d become involved with—he took an uncomfortable swallow of his brandy— exposing Miss Rosington.
    Savouring the heat that coursed down his throat, but not the direction his thoughts were taking him, he repeated, blandly, ‘Not heard a thing, Cowdril.’
    â€˜Well, where in God’s name is Harry Carstairs?’ his host said with uncharacteristic vehemence, followed by an apologetic glance at the vicar. ‘The man owes me five hundred pounds.’
    â€˜I’d be more concerned with what has become of Harry Carstairs,’ the vicar mumbled. ‘His aunt is beside herself with worry. She’s not heard a word from her nephew in three weeks. Did he see his lawyer and collect his inheritance, only to fall foul of cutthroats in some staging inn? Not that I suggested as much to Mrs Carstairs.’
    â€˜What’s his lawyer have to say about it, Peregrine?’ Lord Cowdril demanded in his most insistent tone; the one he used whenever he’d had too much to drink. ‘A mighty hefty inheritance it was, from all accounts.’
    Peregrine shook his head. ‘His lawyer knows nothing of Carstairs’ intended movements, either.’ He was not going to mention the locket containing the mysterious message.
    With the mystery surrounding Carstairs assuming ever increasing proportions, Peregrine wished heartily he could have