Page 43 of Rose and the Rogue
“Efficient, though.”
“It would be best if the bookmaker just canceled the wager altogether,” Adrian said. “Declare it null and void.”
“He never would. That’s death for a bookmaker, to arbitrarily pull a bet off the books.”
“It’s been done.”
“Only when there’s obvious signs of tampering. Remember when it came out that the jockey was dosing Lord Randell’s best horse a few years ago? All the wagers on its races were pulled.”
“Because the news of the dosing was public,” Adrian agreed with a thoughtful frown.
“And that won’t work for us, because we don’t want anything about your Miss Blake to get more public than it already is.”
“But perhaps we can take the wind out of the sails a bit,” Adrian said, getting an idea. “After all, we know several names of the men who are involved. If I call upon them privately, I can make it quite clear that they ought to correct any misapprehensions about their dealings with Rosalind. Because if they don’t, I’ll challenge them.”
“That might work. None of those men are paragons of courage. They’ll say whatever they have to to avoid a duel.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
“Breakfast first,” Carlos said, seeing two servants come in with trays loaded with good-smelling food. “I never intimidate people on an empty stomach.”
Chapter 15
The young rake showed an extraordinary ability to charm people and make his way into the private quarters of any woman he chose to pursue. At the moment, he’d selected Poppy as the object of his affection, largely because she was dangling a long piece of fabric scrap from her hand, drawing it along the floor to entice the cat onward.
“Come along, Ralph, yes, here you go! Oh, so fierce! You will be formidable when you’re older, yes you will.”
Poppy’s cooing might have surprised others, but Rose had experienced the softer side of Poppy’s nature. She was sharp and flinty around most people, but turned into fleece when confronted with animals, children, or those in need.
The girls were currently in the parlor, after eating a light breakfast and preparing for what seemed the inevitable onslaught of suitors for Rose.
After the fateful evening in Vauxhall Gardens, Rosalind had worked hard to give herself a new outlook. She wouldn’t pine after Viscount Norbury, who had not called on her since (even though he still sent an anonymous bouquet every morning). She certainly wouldn’t wait around, for she had correctly assessed the likelihood of any sort of legitimate association with him.
None.
Perhaps one of these other men who’d been calling on the Blake house would turn out to be more interesting than those she’d met so far. Apart from Mr. Evans, who had not returned after the fiasco of a carriage ride, the others continued to show a degree of interest. Rose expected that a few of them would arrive when it came time for proper visiting hours.
However, that did not seem to be the case. In contrast to the last several days, Alice was not kept running to and from the front door to announce callers, because none came.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Poppy said at one point, “but I was expecting to have to glare at some gentlemen today.”
“Perhaps a new blind girl has come to town and captured their fancy,” Rose joked. “If so, I wish her joy of them. But this is a little dull, just sitting around waiting. What if we get a carriage to Fabric Row?”
“Good idea!” Poppy answered.
So that was what the girls did. With one of the footmen to act as a sort of bodyguard, chaperone, and pack mule, they wandered in and out of shops to find new cloth for their summer dresses. Poppy noted a few items that her stepfather might carry, and Rose enjoyed touching all the bolts of cotton and wool and silk. There was such a pleasure in the feel of beautiful things. She almost felt like her old self, just happy to exist in a little world of friends and family. Not worrying about being left alone on a dance floor or trapped in a carriage or being rescued by a rake.
Several hours later, they returned to the house with enough fabric and lace and notions to outfit an army (a very feminine army, to be sure). Rose’s mother expressed approval of the choices, since she trusted Poppy’s taste and Rose’s good sense.
Her father made the usual noises of concern over the cost, but Rose could tell he was only going through the motions. Mr. Blake kept a firm hand on the family finances, and extravagance would never be tolerated.
“Let’s get everything upstairs,” Poppy said to one of the servants. “I’ll show you where I want it put.”
She led the way up, accompanied by an excited Mrs. Blake, who wanted to know if Poppy was going to use the latest Parisian designs (fashion was apparently immune to the continuing hostilities between the countries).
Since Rose and her father had a few precious moments alone, she hesitantly broached the concept of offering Poppy a companion’s wages.
“Pay her?” Mr. Blake asked in horror. “As if she were some sort of hired girl and not your very own cousin? That would be insulting to Poppy. We are delighted to support her as part of the household and I daresay she eats better and sleeps better than many.”
