what do you expect?’
‘Loyalty, obedience and good breeding skills. I expect her to sit at my table and entertain my guests, manage my households to make sure the servants don’t rob us blind and provide me with an heir at the earliest opportunity so I can go off and indulge my other interests.’
‘Those being?’
‘To find myself in bed with a different woman every night.’
Robert snorted. ‘If that’s all you require, you may as well marry your housekeeper and spend your nights at a brothel.’
‘And pay for the pleasure of bedding a woman? I’d rather eat bad oysters for breakfast,’ Oberon said. ‘I could give you the names of a dozen young ladies happy to warm my bed for nothing more than the pleasure they receive in return.’
‘Then why not marry one of them?’ ‘Because I want a flower of rare perfection. A woman as virginal as Hestia, as amusing as Thalia, as—’ ‘As exquisite as Aphrodite?’ ‘That would be my first choice, though if she is not, I shall simply snuff the candles and do the deed as quickly as possible.’ Oberon shrugged. ‘London is full of tempting young chits only too happy to do what a man likes. Take that stunning young woman we just met. I’d wager even you wouldn’t mind a tumble with her, despite your stated aversion to all things French.’
‘That has nothing to do with it,’ Robert said, aware that it wasn’t entirely true, but wishing he’d never told Oberon of his antipathy. ‘As a result of what happened between Lady Mary Kelsey and myself, I have no intention of involving myself with any woman, whether she be well born or otherwise.’
‘Ah, yes, the broken engagement. Pity about that,’ Oberon reflected. ‘Unlike you, Lady Mary is not keeping quiet about her feelings. Last week she called you a heartless bastard for breaking things off without a word of explanation.’
‘Trust me, it is better I do not vouchsafe the reasons,’ Robert murmured.
‘Be that as it may, she is threatening to sue you for breach of promise and society has taken her side. You have been cast out, my friend. Abandoned. Thrown to the murderous hordes. Which means you may as well find yourself a nice little mistress to keep you warm at night—in fact, what say you to a little wager? Whoever establishes the most beautiful woman in London as his mistress before the end of the Season shall be declared the winner.’
‘I’d say that apart from it being a totally iniquitous undertaking, it makes absolutely no sense. Have you any idea how many beautiful women there are in London?’
‘Ah, but I said the most beautiful.’
‘By whose standards? Jane is considered a beauty, yet you are offended by her handicap and label her unattractive as a result.’
The viscount’s son had the decency to blush. ‘I did not say she offended me—’
‘Not in so many words, but we both know that is what you meant.’
‘Then we shall let a panel of our peers make the decision. And the stakes of the wager will show that he who loses must give the other that which he desires most. I’m willing to put up my stallion,’ Oberon said, stabbing the last piece of beef with his fork. ‘I recall you once saying that were I to offer you a chance to buy him, you’d take it without second thought. Now you can have him for free.’
Robert sighed. ‘Let it go, Oberon. You know this is a complete waste of time.’
‘On the contrary, it could be very interesting. We just have to come up with something of equal value for you to put forward.’ Oberon tapped his finger against his chin. ‘I have it! Your sapphire ring. I’ve always been partial to it and that is what I claim as my prize.’
Robert stared. ‘You think I would risk a priceless family heirloom on something as feeble as this?’
‘Why not? A wager must always have a prize and a consequence or it is not worth the trouble. So what do you say? Are you in?’
There were times, Robert reflected, when it was impossible to find the words that would adequately describe how he felt about some of the things Oberon did. Just as it was equally hard to imagine that one day, the man sitting opposite him would wear a viscount’s coronet and own a veritable fortune in property and wealth. Robert picked up his glass and shook his head. ‘No.’
‘But why not? It is a harmless enough wager.’
‘Not if the terms of the wager become known to the ladies involved.’
‘Faith, Silver, when did you acquire such pretty manners? I remember a time when you would have wagered a month’s allowance on something as inconsequential as in which direction a flock of pigeons took off.’
‘That was before my father shot himself over gambling debts he couldn’t afford to repay,’ Robert said quietly. ‘I swore then I wouldn’t follow in his footsteps. And I won’t have Jane ending up the same way as our poor mother.’
‘But she wouldn’t, old man. Unlike your father, you never lose!’
‘A man’s luck can change. Fortune is a fickle mistress.’
‘For others, perhaps, but not you. Your prowess at the tables is legendary.’
‘Count me out,’ Robert said. ‘I want nothing to do with it.’
Oberon sat back, rapping his fingers on the table and looking thoroughly peeved. ‘Really, Silver, if I didn’t like you so well, I’d pass you over for Welton. Unfortunately even he’s begun to bore me of late. Twice now he’s stood me up for lunch, and the last time I called round, he wouldn’t even see me.’
Robert frowned. That didn’t sound like Lawrence. When they had all been at Oxford together, it was most often Lawrence Welton to whom Oberon had gravitated. Likely because the affable Lawrence was the only one who had not been openly critical of Oberon’s debauched lifestyle. ‘Are you sure he’s well?’
‘Well enough to attend a social engagement the same afternoon he stood me up,’ Oberon said. ‘No, I’ve washed my hands of him. He used to be such good fun. Now he’s become as staid and as boring … as you.’
Robert was unmoved by the criticism. So what if Oberon thought him boring? He knew what was important and it certainly wasn’t deceiving innocent young women for the sake of someone else’s pleasure or gain. ‘Play the game if you must, but I’ll have nothing to do with it. However, I will offer a toast. To your future wife,’ Robert said, raising his glass. ‘May she be as beautiful as Aphrodite, as gentle as Hestia—’
‘And as lusty as an Irish farmer’s daughter,’ Oberon said. ‘A toast to the dear lady’s health … wherever she may be!’
* * *
It was late the following afternoon when Sophie finally stepped down from the carriage into the quiet of the respectable English street, and as far as she was concerned it wasn’t a moment too soon. Her serviceable brown jacket and skirt were hopelessly creased, her halfboots were covered in dust, and there was a stain on the palm of her left glove from having touched something black and oily. Added to that, the unsettling events of the previous evening had made it impossible to sleep, leaving her feeling overly tired and decidedly on edge. If it weren’t for Antoine, she would have climbed back into the carriage and turned the horses in the direction of home.
A long row of tall, white houses stretched before her, each with four stone steps leading to a shiny black door. From the centre of each door, a brass lion roared a warning to those who came near, and to either side and above, rows of windows glinted in the last rays of sunlight. A square ran the length of the street, bordered by trees newly covered in green, and in front of each house, black wrought-iron posts stood waiting to receive horses and carriages.
It was a far cry from the crowded Rue de Piêtre and the three small rooms she and Antoine called home.
‘Buy