The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,77

afternoon air, until he moved on out of sight.

“So, what will you do?” Clarissa asked. “With Winter, I mean? Now that you’ve won your little wager and shown him who’s queen of the castle.”

She frowned. “Nothing. What happened between us doesn’t change anything.”

Clarissa’s eyes brightened. “Oh, trust me, it will. Men don’t like to lose. He’ll come crawling to you on his own, and maybe give you some babies while he’s at it.”

Isobel’s heart squeezed and a knot formed in her throat, but she kept her face calm. Little did Clarissa suspect that her husband would geld himself before doing that. She wrapped her arms about her middle. She hadn’t been open with Clarissa about Winter’s strong opinions on the matter, because it wasn’t her place to divulge his private feelings, but his hard refusal of both being a husband and a father reduced the outcome of the game to something trivial. Bringing a man to his knees meant nothing if all she got out of it was a lonely future. Deep down, she wanted more. She wanted Winter…and a future with him.

Maybe she should cut her losses and go back to Chelmsford. She’d been such a fool, too focused on winning that she hadn’t thought of what would happen if she actually won. Now, because she’d acted so impetuously, her reward was the same as her punishment.

“We should call on him today,” Clarissa suggested, nodding hard. “That’s what Lady Darcy would do. She wouldn’t wait for him to start thinking, because Lord knows when men start using any part of their brain, things go belly up. She would take that bull by the horns and ride it into the sunset.”

Isobel gave a choked laugh. “Lady Darcy has caused quite enough trouble.”

Clarissa frowned and leaned in, her blue eyes concerned. “You’re not going to give up, are you? You’re not going to run because your blockheaded husband can’t see what’s right in front of him, are you?”

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“What do you want, Izzy?”

Isobel blinked. “What do you mean?”

Her best friend blew out an exasperated breath. “The question is exactly as it sounds—what do you want? For yourself. For the rest of your life.” She pursed her lips. “For the next week, then.”

Isobel exhaled. What she wanted was impossible…and brought with it a boatload of heartache. And her silly imagination was already pining for it. For him. She should have known she couldn’t engage in anything physical without her heart having its say. It had taken every ounce of her control to leave that room as if the sex had been meaningless, when it had been the opposite. In truth, winning the ridiculous wager had meant nothing.

“I want the fairy tale. But for the next week, I suppose I just want him to see me.”

“Then you have to fight for what you want and it’s my job as your best friend to tell you when you’re being a pussy-footing hector.”

Isobel huffed. “Did you just call me a coward?”

“If the shoe fits.” Clarissa stood and held out her hand. “What do you have to lose?”

Rather a lot, including the fate of her brittle heart, but she didn’t tell Clarissa that. Instead, Isobel took her friend’s hand and let her drag her back inside to get a cloak and bonnet, and have Simmons summon the carriage. Since Oliver had apparently taken the ducal carriage, they would have to settle for the plain black coach that was used for errands.

Within short order, they were in the conveyance and on their way to 15 Audley Street. Her emotions were tied up in precarious knots, and the closer they got to their destination, the more agitated she became. This was a bad idea.

“Why are you so nervous?” Clarissa scolded. “You’re making me anxious.”

“I don’t know what to expect.” She swallowed hard. “What if this is a mistake?”

Clarissa rolled her eyes. “We’ve already established that it’s not. Stop falling back to old tactics. I know you, and you’re looking for a way out. I think you like him and he likes you.”

“He does?”

She gave an exasperated sniff. “He took you for a turn in Cock Alley, for heaven’s sake.”

“Clarissa!” Isobel bit out with a giggle, cheeks flaming. “That doesn’t always mean a man likes a woman. It could be just sex.”

“Fine, apart from the fact that he’s hot for you and head-over-heels in lust, I think he cares about you. Trust me, that man has no eyes for anyone else when you’re in the room.