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He handed Tam a glass of watery lemonade and a mince pie.

She took them with a muttered, “Why are you following me? Didn’t you understand that I was trying to escape you?”

“What’s wrong?” He cut to the chase.

She shot him a sidelong glance. “Merry Christmas to you too. I’m well, thank you. I’ve taken on a project I don’t think I can fulfill and everything is a disaster, but otherwise, very well.”

“It’s just you thanked me rather than telling me to go to hell. Twice.” Highly unusual.

“It would be twice, wouldn’t it. I thought I was having such a good day.” She huffed and shook her head. “Three good things.” She took a bite of the mince pie, and stared into the crowd. “And now I’m up to two bad things.”

She considered for a second, finishing off the mince pie and licking the powdered sugar from her lips. He blinked hard to stop himself from staring at her mouth. Not helpful.

“And what are your three good things?” he inquired, since her reply made very little sense. She’d mentioned threes before. A slight obsession with threes? Was that normal? Who cared, he found everything about her adorable.

“I’m not going to tell you,” she huffed. “I have important tasks this evening.” But she didn’t move, sipping her lemonade and chewing her lip.

“What about the two bad things?”

“You are the second bad thing, and being rich and cynical and a duke means you wouldn’t understand the first bad thing.”

“Try me. Maybe one rich cynical duke is what you need this evening. Perhaps I could help?” Whatever had happened, Tam was too worked up to hate him as she usually did.

“God, I must be desperate,” she said to herself. “You promise not to be horrid?”

“Yes.”

“My father is bankrupt. One bad investment so I have no support anymore, which means,” she concluded bitterly, “I have to choose one of these men to marry.”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“No?” She looked at him like he’d grown another head. “I suppose you would be horrified at the thought of marriage, being such a rake.”

A rake. Ha. How ironic. He hadn’t been a rake for years. Not because he was almost two decades older than most of the debutants now. No, it was because ofher.

At the Christmas Eve ball of 1870 when they’d met, he’d realized she was the only woman he’d ever marry. She’d worn a dress with a low-cut neckline that revealed the very tops of the curve of her little breasts, and had been a bright yellow silk. The sunshine of the dress had set off her dark brown hair to perfection, and Att’s heart had done a flip.

The timing was unfortunate. He’d gone over to her determined to claim a dance and then much more. They’d gotten along well, until the point she’d said she wanted to be a doctor and not a wife.

“You’re in a pickle, aren’t you?” he said. The alternative was to propose marriage, and he had a feeling that wasn’t the right answer quite yet.

“Thank you for that observation,” she snapped.

“You’re the smart one.” It was probably the trait he most admired in her. “I only have to be aristocratic and wealthy.”

“I think you got the better deal, your Grace.”

“Att.” He wished she’d call him Att.

She shook her head. “I have to leave you and dance and flirt with gentlemen.”

His reaction was visceral, a roaring in his ears and fire in his chest. Jealousy he couldn’t contain spilled out of him and he put out a hand to stop her. She would not be dancing and flirting with anyone but him. She was his.

“I’m sure you see why it’s a matter of some urgency that I marry.” Placing her lemonade back on the table. “I wish you an enjoyable evening, your Grace.”

She hadn’t even considered him as a candidate for marriage. He was a rake, yes, and a duke. He’d hardly been covert in his attention, but perhaps she really didn’t hear the sarcasm as he’d said over the years about women being unsuited for being educated. Proud creature, she couldn’t back down now. To get around Tam’s defenses he’d have to play their old games of cat and mouse.

A wager.