Chapter Seventeen
Phaedra stared atthe betting book of White’s with a mixture of numbness and fury.
A few hours ago, still in the lovely aftermath of Deerhurst’s lovemaking, she’d received an invitation to join Lady Ophelia Thornton for tea.
Phaedra had been surprised. After all, she couldn’t claim any friendship with the woman. But she’d also been curious. Why would Lady Ophelia invite her for tea? A hunch suddenly formed. Lady Ophelia was also an heiress. Rumors. Wagers. Cromby. She hadn’t forgotten that man and his greasy manners.
Her curiosity exploded and quickly transformed into full-blown impatience to get to that tea party.
If only she’d known...
The invitation really ought to have come with a warning.
Danger: Hearts may break.
For hers was breaking as sure as the sky was blue.
The reason for the tea? Lady Ophelia handed her guests the betting book, which she had stolen from the men’s establishment. An impressive deed. But what Lady Ophelia had been after was not the wagers, but the content of the list, which she had heard was quite expressive.
No wonder Phaedra’s father didn’t want her to attend events. It had been much worse than they’d let on. The comments beside their names were not only unforgivable but downright humiliating.
“We need to show those bastards we are not to be ridiculed or taken for granted. We must stand together from this day,” Lady Selena said.
Lady Selena was sister to the Earl of Saville, one of the men responsible for the wagers, along with the Earl of Warrick, the Earl of Avondale—whose mother apparently drew up the list—and lastly, the Earl of Deerhurst. Phaedra found it rather remarkable how connected Lady Ophelia was to have discovered all this information so neatly, but a part of her wished she hadn’t. Phaedra didn’t want to learn this about Deerhurst.
HerDeerhurst.
The very man in whose arms she had woken up to this very morning. Who kissed her, teased her, and lied to her face. She had asked him if he was aware of the wagers.
What had they—he—commented about her on that list?
Laughter to scare an alley cat to death.
A bunch of bastard earls, they were. Unoriginal rat bastards. Her years of reading came in handy for curse words for the rage and betrayal she felt but didn’t know what to do with yet.
For now she could only curse.
Curse Deerhurst to hell.
How many times had she laughed in Deerhurst’s presence? Did Deerhurst truly believe her laughter was that terrible? She thought of all the times they laughed together, and she winced. He probably did.
She’d believed him a knight, a protector of women. He certainly hadn’t protected them from this list. Deerhurst was a protector, but not of women. Children, yes, but not women. Which begged the question, how could he think this was all right to do?
He had a daughter.
He ought to have known better. Or was this his way to get back at the opposite sex for disappointing him?
And Saville? That bastard helped save her and Deerhurst in the park. Lady Selena was hissister.
How utterly wicked.
What exactly did they—Deerhurst—gain from this? She thought of when he had appeared in her life. The night he’d kissed her. Had he known about all this then? The list? The wagers? Had that been the start?
Their drawing room was filled with rogues the very next day. And, of course, hadn’t he shown up at her window to rescue her? No matter how she mulled it in her mind, she couldn’t find any good excuse for the earl.
Phaedra wanted to puke.
Had heprotectedher so that she could let her guard down and then swoop in to steal her hand in marriage and claim her dowry along with the prize money for every wager about her in this book?
