A Wedding Wager Read Online Free

compliments to the ladies, refilling glasses himself with all the genial bonhomie of the perfect host. Any outsider would assume that this was an elegant, extravagant private party with the most hospitable hosts, instead of a carefully designed entertainment whose single object was to fleece as many guests as possible in the salons abovestairs. They would all pay well for the elegance of their supper.

    Sebastian and his friends descended with the rest of the company to the supper room. He lingered for a moment in the doorway, covertly watching Serena as she played her part to perfection under the brilliant light of myriad candles. He found himself trying to find things to criticize. Maybe she was still as beautiful as ever, but something had changed. There was a hardness that hadn’t been there before, he thought her laugh had a brittleness, and those wonderful, luminous violet eyes were warier. But her hair was the same deep blue-black,her figure as tall and graceful as ever, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.
    “Seb … Seb …” Lord Harley lightly punched his upper arm, hauling him out of his reverie. “Are you staying for supper or not?”
    Sebastian dragged his gaze away from the woman across the crowded salon. She was laughing at something, some supposed witticism of the cherubic young viscount downing a large bumper of burgundy, and for a moment, he had to suppress a violent urge to go to her, to drag her out into the street, to force something … something, he didn’t know what … to happen between them. Something real and true, at any rate. Not that last cold, artificial parting that had had no truth to it.
    “No,” he said abruptly. “No, I’m not staying.” He turned on his heel and returned to the hall to retrieve his sword. He sheathed it as he left the house, the door closing firmly behind him.
    The cool night air cleared his head a little as he walked briskly down St. James’s Street. It was still early by the standards of London’s players, not yet midnight, and yet Sebastian could think of nowhere he wished to go, no entertainment among the many on offer that would please him. He was in no mood for company, or at least, not that of his friends. He turned off St. James’s Street into an alley. Halfway down, light spilled from the open door of a tavern, and the sounds of raucous voices raised in merriment heavily laced with obscenities filled the narrow lane.
    Sebastian pushed his way through the throng blocking the doorway. A heavy-set man, objecting, grabbed him by the arm. Sebastian turned his head and regarded this obstacle to his progress in cold silence. His free hand rested on his sword hilt. There was a moment of wordless confrontation, but something in the younger man’s eye, a certain reckless gleam, as if he were inviting the man to provoke him further, caused the heavy-set man to drop his hand, murmur something akin to an apology, and step aside. Sebastian elbowed his way to the rough-hewn bar counter and demanded a pint of porter. It came quickly, and he leaned back against the counter, drinking the rough liquor, looking sightlessly over the rowdy taproom. No one approached him.
    The porter did little to alleviate his mood. He drained it with a grimace, tossed a coin onto the counter, and pushed his way back out into the alley. As he started back towards St. James’s Street, he felt something, a flicker of sensation at his back.
    He spun around and grabbed a skinny child who was about to dive back down the alley. “Just one minute.” Sebastian tightened his hold. A grimy-faced urchin looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
    “Beg pardon, sir.” The child suddenly twisted, bent his head, and bit Sebastian’s hand. Sebastian let go with a yelp. The lad ducked away and with a sinuous twist was off down the alley. Sebastian realized instantly that the small coin purse he kept in an inside pocket of his coat was missing.
    “Fool,” he castigated himself,