Free Worth Winning by Parker Elling Page A

your earldom makes you somehow superior. Yes. I’m certain of the outcome. I would not have entered this bet, and I would not have chosen Julia Morland, if I didn’t think the outcome was a foregone conclusion, and if I didn’t believe that I’d come out, for once, as victor over you.”
    Charles narrowed his eyes and decided that it wasn’t worth his while to continue this argument. What he couldn’t understand was why Robeson seemed to resent him so. Everything Charles had told Julia was true: he and Robeson shared some common acquaintances and had crossed paths a few times but were not—and never really had been—friends. Certainly they’d never had enough interaction for the man to despise him as he did.
    All he said, though, was, “So, that’s everything?”
    Robeson lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Why would I hide anything?”
    A brief pause ensued before Charles said, ticking off the reasons one by one on his fingertips as he enunciated them, “Because the truth might paint you in a different light. Because knowing the truth might give me an advantage in this devil’s wager that we’ve agreed to. Because you’re perverse, and you gain some sense of satisfaction from knowing something I don’t know. I could go on.”
    Robeson laughed humorlessly and sat up straighter, holding up a hand in mock surrender. “No need, really. Your vaunted opinions of me and my character are widely known.”
    Charles stood up, weary of the conversation and the company. He was tired just thinking about the long months ahead of him, trying to seduce a prickly pear of a woman who clearly wasn’t interested, and living with a man the sight of whom he could barely stand the sight.
    Robeson’s voice stopped him when he reached the door. “There are a number of social engagements I’ve accepted on behalf of all three of us.”
    Charles turned. He was used to having a secretary screen his invitations. He was used to turning down almost everything and then showing up, unannounced, simply because he could. He gave himself a mental shake: even in his own head he was starting to sound like a bit of a spoiled, pompous ass.
    “Oh?” Charles asked, knowing that he should be grateful: scheduled balls and parties would at least provide him with continuous opportunities to talk with Julia and to woo the chit.
    “We’re holding a dinner, of course. That was arranged long ago, especially to introduce you to your prey. But there are quite a few engagements beyond that. Apparently the matrons of Munthrope are all trying to outdo themselves to entertain a viscount and a baron. Billings and I are the most famous, eligible bachelors they’ve seen in years.” Robeson paused. “If they only knew.”
    “Luckily, they won’t,” Charles said abruptly. “The whole point of this bet, besides my teaching you a lesson and getting that damned painting, is to escape high society’s matchmaking mamas.” He forced his voice to a more even level; it would never do to let Robeson think he was actually affecting him, that he was anything less than perfectly contented. He smiled. “It’s refreshing—invigorating, actually—to be the hunter rather than the hunted.”

*
    Charles would have felt far less sanguine if he had known that Munthrope, despite its almost backwater status, had its own share of ambitious mothers, who were no less devious and had daughters they considered no less marriageable than their London counterparts.
    The rector’s second wife, once quite a beauty herself, was every bit as scheming as high society’s most persistent and tenacious leaders. And, just a few hours after Charles had blithely declared himself safe from matchmakers, Phyllis was applying herself to the rather thankless task of cross-examining her stepdaughter, Julia.
    As was the family tradition, they ate an earlier-than-usual meal together. It had been Phyllis’s idea. Her husband, the prototypical absent-minded scholar, was wont to