To Sin With A Stranger by Kathryn Caskie Page A

of her true meaning. But there were none. Could it be that she was delicately communicating her interest in a possible match? She was but a miss, after all, and he a Scottish marquess. It was possible she finally saw the logic in such a strategic match.
    Then too, it was also conceivable that…she felt some level of fondness for him.
    He glanced desperately around to see if Grant still lingered nearby. His brother always seemed to understand the secret motivations that caused women to confound men.
    Sterling spied Grant with their sisters standing near a long table stocked with dozens of glasses, bowls of punch and lemonade. Bewigged and liveried footmen ladled their glasses full, and as the four Sinclairs turned in his direction, Sterling caught Grant’s notice and frantically summoned his brother to him.
    He turned to prompt Miss Carington that his brother and sisters approached, but a young copper-haired miss had taken her arm and was hustling her away.
    Miss Carington glanced up apologetically, but allowed herself to be drawn from him and into the chattering fold of several elderly ladies and gentlemen.
    Damn it all
. He had her attention for but a clutch of minutes before losing her again.
    “So, what did you say to send her running away, Sterling?” Grant asked in a low tone, just loud enough for Sterling and his sisters to hear his kidding.
    “I didn’t do a thing—or say anything. I didn’t have a chance.” Sterling rose up to his full height and watched her conversing in the distance. He whirled on Grant. “I ought to flatten that straight nose of yours for shoving me into her like you did.”
    Ivy giggled. “Och, don’t blame Grant. You could have remained still as a marble statue and the crowd would have seen you together regardless. You don’t realize how entertained London Society is by your wager.”
    Sterling shook his head. “It is difficult to believe a bet, solid though it is”—he sought the gazes of his siblings to ensure they heard the addition of those few words—“would interest so many in the possible match of two people—especially a couple with nothing in suit but that they both hail from the outskirts of proper Society.”
    Priscilla gave Siusan a covert nudge with her elbow as if prompting her to speak.
    Siusan nodded and shook open her painted silk fan and spoke from behind it. “Sterling, how thick you are being. The wager has nothing to do with the money—though a grand sum it is.”
    “What do you mean, Su?” Sterling angled himself so he could see behind her fan. “Most certainly it has
everything
to do with want of coin.”
    “Nay,” she replied. “It has to do with
romance and love
.”
    Sterling looked quizzically at her, then at his brother. “Tell her, Grant. Tell her she is the one being thick if that is what she believes.”
    “Well, she is right by half,” Grant admitted. “I will give her that.”
    “Have you lost your senses as well, brother?” Sterling raised his brow in surprise.
    “Now, now, let me finish.” Gesturing for them all to draw closer, Grant lowered his tone. “The gentlemen from the club are interested in the coin, and certainly the sport of wagering.”
    “There, I told you.” Sterling nodded firmly.
    Grant raised a hand. “The ladies, their wives and daughters, from what I have heard over brandy at White’s, are the true sources of the counterwager. They, according to the members’ complaints, are solely concerned with the prospect of a love match between a handsome Scottish marquess and an ordinary miss from Leicester Square.”
    Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “D-did you say Leicester Square? That’s not such a smart address in Town. Are you certain she is from a good family, Sterling?”
    “She is, and you should not be so swollen with pride, Priscilla,” Ivy said through clenched teeth. “You no longer have license. Though we reside in a most fashionable square, I am sure
Miss Carington’s
home is at the very