Regency Wagers Read Online Free

vowel, sir?’ Farley’s question did not demand an answer.
    ‘But of course,’ Devlin replied amiably.
    As Farley wrote out his vowel, Devlin gazed around the room, into the dark recesses where Farley’s girls, looking like Spanish tarts, ran the tables.
    ‘Shall I make Miss M available to you?’ Farley asked, his voice flat.
    Devlin considered, sweeping his gaze over the too-opulent room. Had this place truly impressed him three years ago with its wainscoting and brocades? Now it appeared as false as glory.
    Perhaps it would be preferable to seek the relative silence of the street and preserve The Mysterious Miss M as a memory.
    A shout came from outside the parlour. The door opened and a burly man dragged in a girl who was beating at his chest and kicking his legs in protest. She wore a mask.
    ‘Lord Farley,’ the huge man said, ‘she’s brawling again.’ He dropped the girl at Farley’s feet. Her pale delicate fingers grabbed the edge of the table to pull herself up. She lifted her head regally and smoothed the skirt of her red silk dress. Black sensuous curls tumbled to her shoulders in a tangled mass. The lace mantilla had slipped off and hung on one of her shoulders.
    ‘I have no patience for this,’ Farley growled. ‘What now?’
    ‘She refused a patron.’ The man tossed her a scathing look. ‘She bit him in…a most unfortunate place.’
    The girl faced Farley with her chin held high, her face half-covered by a red leather mask. ‘I warned you I would do so.’
    Farley shot out of his chair and with a loud clap struck his open hand against her cheek.
    ‘The devil!’ Devlin sprang from his seat to catch her before she hit the floor. Both her hands clutched her head, and Devlin supported her with an arm around her waist.
    ‘Farley, I must protest. That was most poorly done.’
    ‘I’ll thank you to stay out of my business, Steele,’ Farley snarled. ‘You have no say in the matter.’
    ‘If you strike her in front of me, I claim the right.’ Devlin spoke through clenched teeth. ‘You might hear her out.’
    Farley rubbed his face. ‘I have treated her with more consideration than she deserves, and she still defies me. I’m done with her. You found her pleasing once. Take her in lieu of my debt.’
    Devlin combed her hair away from her mask with his fingers. He would leave no woman to suffer such treatment. He leaned close to her ear. ‘What say you, Miss England?’
    She blinked uncomprehendingly, her eyes unfocused. Suddenly her vision seemed to clear and she stared at him, thebright red imprint of Farley’s hand remaining on her cheek. She smiled faintly and flung her arms around his neck.
    He gazed over the top of her head to Farley. ‘Your debt is settled, sir.’
     
    A half-hour later Devlin paced the pavement in front of Farley’s establishment, cursing himself. In the space of a moment, he’d tossed his winnings away and incurred further expense. All for a lightskirt with whom he’d once spent a pleasant interval. He could almost hear the Marquess ring a peal over his head. ‘Brother, how many times must I caution you? Think before you act.’
    Ah well, he could not very well leave his Miss England with Farley, could he? Perhaps she had some family. His winnings ought to be sufficient to send her wherever she wished to go.
    At least the money bought him a little more time. Only two months left before his brother released his quarterly portion.
    Two cloaked and hooded figures hurried from the alley. Devlin instinctively kept a watchful eye on them. In this neighbourhood one could easily be set upon and relieved of one’s winnings. Indeed, Farley might attempt to recoup his losses. The two shadowy figures came to a stop in front of him, one carrying a large portmanteau.
    ‘We are ready, my lord,’ the other one said, breathing hard.
    Devlin peered at her. In the lamplight, her face was all but obscured by the hood, and she was wrapped entirely in her cloak, clutching some