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Gough,’ he said implacably, ‘that there is no agreement.’
    ‘My lord…’ Gower sounded most unhappy. ‘If there is any way that such a contract could be proved, I do beg you to reconsider!’
    Marcus raised one black eyebrow. ‘Do you not trust me, Gower?’ he asked humorously. ‘At the very most it could be construed as a verbal contract and there were no witnesses.’
    Gower blinked like a hunted animal. ‘None, my lord? Can you be certain of that?’
    A smile twitched Marcus’s lips. ‘Perfectly.’
    ‘But even so…’ Gower glanced across at Justin. ‘A verbal contract, my lord…’
    ‘I think Mr Gower feels that you should honour your pledges, Marcus,’ Justin said, with a grin. ‘Even in a game of chance—’
    ‘A game of chance!’ Gower looked even more disapproving. ‘My lord! Mr Trevithick! This is all most irregular!’
    ‘As you say, Gower,’ Marcus murmured. ‘Have no fear. Gough’s client will never sue. I would stake my life on it!’
    Justin grimaced. ‘Can you be so sure, Marcus? She sounds mighty determined to me!’
    Gower, who was just shuffling his papers into his briefcase, scattered them on the carpet. ‘She, sir, she ?’ he stuttered. ‘Good God, my lord, not even the old Earl would have indulged in a wager with a female!’
    ‘He was missing a trick then,’ Marcus said coolly, ‘for I found it most stimulating!’ He rose to his feet. ‘Good day, Gower. Give Gough my message and if you find his instructions are that he persists in his claim, refer him direct to me. Penn will show you out!’
    ‘Marcus,’ Justin said, once they were alone, ‘do you not consider this a little unsporting of you? After all, the girl won the bet, did she not?’
    ‘She did,’ Marcus conceded. He met Justin’s eyes. ‘Truth is, Justin, I would like to meet her again, find out about this passion she has for Fairhaven. It intrigues me.’
    ‘And this is how you intend to flush her out?’
    ‘Precisely!’ Marcus grinned suddenly. ‘I could go to Kit Mostyn and ask for his help, of course, but I would wager he will not grant it! So…if I refuse to honour the bet, my mysterious opponent may show her hand again!’
    Justin’s lips twisted. ‘You’re a cunning devil, Marcus! But what is your interest in the lady herself?’
    Marcus’s grin deepened. ‘That depends—on the lady and who she turns out to be!’
    ‘And you would recognise her again?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ Marcus said slowly. ‘I would recognise her anywhere, Justin.’
     
    ‘Pull your chair up a little closer, my love,’ Lady Fanshawe instructed her goddaughter, gesturing her to move to the front of the theatre box. ‘Why, you will not be able to see anything at all from back there! But do not lean out too far! It is not good to lean excessively, for the gentlemen will stare so! Oh, pray do look, Beth!’ Lady Fanshawe leant as far out of the box as she could without falling. ‘It is Mr Rollinson and Lord Saye! I do believe they will call upon us in the interval!’
    Beth edged her chair forward an inch and leant backwards at the same time. She had every intention of effacing herself until she was practically invisible. The invitation to the theatre was a longstanding one and could not be avoided, for Lady Fanshawe had been her mother’s closest friend. That was the only reason why Beth had come to Drury Lane that evening, although the play, Sheridan’s The Rivals , would normally have been sufficient to tempt her out. Normally, but not now. The matter of Marcus Trevithick and her ill-conceived wager with him had suddenly become so very difficult that she had no desire to risk meeting him again.
    Beth chanced a glance over the edge of the box at the crowded auditorium below. Fortunately it would be easy to be inconspicuous in such a crush. People were milling around and chattering nineteen to the dozen: dandies, ladies, courtesans…Beth drew back sharply as a passing buck raised his quizzing glass at her in