Free Scandalous Wager: A Whitechapel Wagers Novella by Christy Carlyle Page A

betrothed miss. Did
not some of her suffragist friends eschew marriage altogether? After leaving
their fathers’ homes, they argued, why invite another man to control their
comings and goings, to relegate them to household duties and prevent them from
being useful to society at large.
    None imagined having both—a husband and a useful purpose
outside of the home. Lizzy was not certain it was possible either. Her own
mother had given up her nursing work shortly after Lizzy’s birth and later,
when Sara came along, there was no question of her continuing on at the
infirmary. Mama seemed to find contentment in the roles of wife and mother, but
Lizzy could not imagine being satisfied with such a fate. She could not imagine
a life without her work.
    She was close now. His rooms were just off Wellclose Square, not far from police headquarters. Her father often remarked on Reed’s
practical choice of living so close to the station. Reliable, he called him,
and hungry for advancement. Her father admired Inspector Reed’s ambition, and
she’d often heard him say that Reed would rise quickly up the ranks at the
Metropolitan Police. He had been a favorite of her father’s from the moment
he’d joined the CID in Whitechapel.
    Lizzy thought back to the first moment she’d seen Detective
Inspector Reed. Her father had brought him home to dine with the family. Papa
had brought home other young men, promising police officers or freshly minted
detectives who might make a good match for Sara. Lizzy knew they weren’t
invited for her sake. She could never catch a man’s eye when her sister Sara
was in the room, and at four and twenty she was well past what most men
considered a favorable age for a wife. And, really, she was content to believe
marriage was not her fate.
    So she watched the parade of hopeful young men that graced their
dining room table and smoked a pipe afterwards with her father with minimal
interest and all the detachment she could muster. Though kind, well-scrubbed,
and faultlessly polite, none of them were for her. Their gaze lit only a moment
on her plain brown hair and eyes before fixing themselves on the golden-haired,
blue-eyed beauty of Sara. Sara was marriageable and possessed all the
attractions men desired. Unfortunately, Sara was as picky as Lizzy was plain,
and none captured her attention as she did theirs. None had truly captured
Lizzy’s attention either until the night her father introduced them to
Inspector Ian Reed.
    His dark beauty literally stole her breath away and she’d ducked
out of the drawing room to cough and choke and attempt to tame her stampeding
heart. Foolish, ridiculous feelings assailed her. Her mind raced and her body
throbbed with an ache she’d never felt before. Panic struck too. She was no Sara.
There was nothing about her that would set a man swooning or cause him to fancy
her. She could not draw, embroider, or even carry on a polite conversation. Her
tendency to mention politics always raised eyebrows or resulted in glares from
her mother or father, letting her know she had overstepped the invisible
boundary between charming young woman and bluestocking.
    She would never have her pick of this man or that. But Lizzy had
never wanted this man or that. Only Ian Reed sparked wild emotions in her.
    She’d peeked around the drawing room doorway and spied him firmly
ensconced between her mother and sister on the settee. Papa was holding court,
telling some story about Inspector Reed’s valiant work while sparing himself
none of the glory. The way he told it, he had pulled the man out of obscurity
and turned him into the most promising detective Scotland Yard had ever seen.
    Reed sat quietly and humbly accepted Papa’s profuse praise. Yet he
also appeared slightly embarrassed and a bit lost, as if he’d been dropped into
their company unexpectedly. He took regular sips of the cordial Papa had
offered, and Lizzy enjoyed watching the movement of his mouth against the glass
and the