A Gentleman’s Game by Theresa Romain Page B

frowning deeply. “You think I can be bought for such a sum? There are many in the ton who would consider that nothing.”
    “I don’t think it’s nothing. I can be bought for that amount.” She tried a smile. “As I said, though, the horses have to be safe. I won’t lie.”
    He turned away, gazing toward the brightness outside the French doors. His coat-clad shoulders rose, then fell in a great sigh. “And if I cannot or will not pay you? Will you tell my father I am not to be trusted?”
    “Of course not!”
    “So if we make a safe journey—”
    “I will say so.” A sinking feeling made her feet grow cold, her head pound. She really had no influence at all, no means of persuading him.
    He turned back to face her. “I have a different idea.” The usual warmth had returned to his eyes, his voice. “I shall stake you for a wager once we get to Epsom. If you lose, no harm done. If you win, you can pay me back. How much you choose to wager, and on which horse—I’ll leave that up to you.”
    “You will leave it up to me,” she repeated. “Why?”
    “Encouragement, maybe? You’ll see the horses in good health to Epsom if you’ve a financial interest in their safe arrival.”
    “I would do that all the same.”
    “I suspect you would.” His blue eyes were warm. “But I can’t just give you the money, you know. That would be bribery. At least, it might seem so to people less ethical and honest than we are.”
    “That makes sense.” She paused. “Then why did you agree at all?” Hers was a ridiculous request. A life-changing request.
    He held out a hand, and she grasped it with her chilled fingers, uncomprehending. “Because there was no reason on earth that I had to. Which tells me, my soon-to-be-traveling companion, that your need is genuine.” Gently, he drew her to her feet. “And that you are a terrible negotiator.”
    “Not so terrible.” Had she ever stood this close to him? He seemed so tall with her eyes at the level of his heart, and he smelled of salt and sweet hay. “Since you agreed to give me what I asked.”
    He laughed, releasing her hand. “You could not have persuaded me with an argument that was any less terrible.” As she looked up at him, he turned serious. “It is not for anything illegal, is it? For any reason that could hurt someone?”
    “Quite the opposite.”
    “And you will let me know if there is anything I can do to help?”
    There was nothing he could do to help, so this was an easy promise. “Of course I will.”
    Again he extended his hand. She stared at it. “What?”
    “We have an agreement. So we shake hands.”
    “Oh. Right.” How scattered she was today. But relief bloomed in her and buoyed her. At last, she had the promise of freedom. She, who had never earned more than fifteen pounds in a year, would buy back her debt, and she need never betray anyone’s trust again.
    Trust Nathaniel , she remembered him saying when he arrived from London. A heartfelt plea cloaked in flippancy.
    Trust Rosalind . She had never had right or reason to ask such a thing before now.
    His hand was warm and calloused. The hand of a rider, a driver, a man who knew how to make and fix things.
    Too soon, she drew her hand away and took a brisk step back, bumping her calves against her chair. “I won’t disappoint you.”
    “I don’t make promises I am not sure I can keep. But I shall do my best to make sure you get—and give—your money’s worth.” The silence that followed was long enough for one beat of her heart, one fidget of her feet, and then he smiled. “Don’t look so worried, Miss Rosalind Agate. You might find that keeping company with me is rather pleasant.”
    In every line of his handsome face, in every angle of his body, there was the promise of adventure. Escape. Exploration.
    Pleasant? She had never heard such an understatement. The incoherent reply she made could best be transcribed as “Humnah.”
    “My thoughts exactly. A journey always