Rodale’s was full tonight. The card tables were full, as were the dice tables. Over in the far left corner a group of men huddled, cheering and passing the wager book around. At that moment Clipps, Rodale’s assistant manager, stepped into the office. “What has them so riled up tonight?” Justin asked. “It would seem that Wilbanks fellow’s father has made a decree that he must marry before the viscount dies. So they’re making wagers on which chit he’ll choose.” George Wilbanks. The same man Clarissa Kincaid had offered to pay off the debts only two months before, debts that hadn’t even existed. Justin needed to get a look at that wager book, see if Chrissy’s name was on the list. He’d wait until the excitement died down and then go take a peek. A half an hour later Justin made his way downstairs to check out the wager book. It was filled with all manners of wagers, from what sex Lord Fairfield’s new child would be to whether or not Fiona Miller would ever agree to one of the many proposals she’d received.
