Free Taking Liberties by Jackie Barbosa Page A

irritably, was to take liberties with them .
    And that was when it came to her. The greatest idea in all history.
     
    Viscount Nash Langston was already in a foul mood when he walked into White’s that afternoon. He’d received news yesterday that more than half the corn crop at his Lancashire estate was underwater due to flooding, and this morning he’d learned that a shipment of sugar cane in which he had invested had failed to arrive on schedule and was likely languishing at the bottom of the ocean floor. Neither loss would crush him financially, of course, but together they would place a substantial burden on his resources for the next year or so.
    Not what a man in hot pursuit of the ton’s most sought-after debutante needed to improve his standing, either in her eyes or those of her parents.
    Nash had come to the club with the intention of retiring to the back room and drowning his sorrows in imitation of his fortunes, but was swiftly diverted from his goal by the boisterous goings-on surrounding White’s notorious betting book. Under normal circumstances, he would have paid them no heed, for he found the subjects upon which his peers placed their wagers frivolous or dangerous or, as often as not, both. But today was different, because as he attempted to walk past the crush of bodies crowding around the book, he heard three words that stopped him dead in his tracks.
    “…Lady Leticia Blake,” boomed Lord Gastonbury, who was unofficially in charge of collecting members’ markers when the wagers exceeded five hundred pounds. “Place your bets.”
    What the bloody hell were they betting on that had to do with Tish Blake? Nash eyed the group of so-called gentlemen pressing Gastonbury and had a sick feeling he already knew the answer.
    He sidled up to the only man in the room who seemed to have no interest in participating in the proceedings. Lord Colin Fitzgerald was a bit of an enigma, having only gained entrance to White’s upon his recent marriage to the former Lady Grace Hannington. The fact that he shared his wife with his close childhood friend was no secret, but since the influential dowager Countess Aberdeen had seen fit to shower the union with her blessings, no one felt it safe to give either of the Fitzgeralds the cut direct.
    Nash for his part couldn’t care less whom Fitzgerald shared his wife with, provided he shared the information Nash wanted to know.
    “What is the wager?” he asked his peer, attempting to appear mildly amused rather than genuinely interested.
    Fitzgerald took a sip of the tawny liquid in the glass he held and sent Nash a bored look. “The Duke of Hapsborough has just put one thousand pounds on marrying Lady Leticia Blake before the end of the Season.”
    Nash blinked slowly, once then twice. The answer came as no surprise, yet fury blurred his vision.
    Hapsborough no more deserved Leticia Blake’s hand—or body—in marriage than he deserved to be named Chancellor of the Exchequer. Not only was the man a notoriousspendthrift, but he’d acquired a reputation among the demimondaine as a one-stroke wonder. “His grace comes as quickly as he goes,” they tittered when he wasn’t about to overhear. But if the typically cash-strapped duke was willing to place a wager of a thousand pounds on the prospects for their union, he must be damned sure of them. That meant Nash’s prospects had been correspondingly weakened.
    Damn it, he’d been so sure he was making headway with her. That she felt the same current of desire between them as he did. Aware of her penchant for refusing marriage proposals, he’d moved slowly and deliberately to reassure her that he wasn’t like the others. That he wanted her not for her dowry or her bloodlines, but for herself. Perhaps that had been a tactical error. Maybe instead he should have dragged her into a darkened alcove, pressed her up against the wall and demonstrated his interest in the most unmistakable way possible.
    What if Hapsborough