First thing this morning, she’d taken it upon herself to make a visit to Prescott House. Sophia had been up already, having fed Lady Harriette in the early dawn hours. Since the babe was down for a morning nap, the two of them sat in Sophia’s favorite drawing room while Rhoda told her of the events from the night before.
Sophia quite agreed. The wager needed put to rest once and for all.
“Dev says the last time he looked, no one had placed any wagers upon Lord Carlisle. He isn’t even listed.”
“That’s a good thing, though, right?” As Rhoda understood the nature of betting, it would mean anyone who placed their money on Lord Carlisle would take the entire pot.
After Lord Carlisle won, that was. And she’d make certain he did. But how? She hadn’t worked that part out yet.
Sophia was nodding. “The minimum bet allowed is a thousand pounds.”
Rhoda bit her lip. Technically, her mother had allotted her that very same amount. “Would I need to have the money present to place the bet?”
“Members are not required to make any such deposits. If you wager in Lord Carlisle’s name, nothing shall be required. But his signature must be true. And there is a man who keeps watch over the book. That’s the tricky part.”
They sat in silence together, both attempting to contrive some plan for this additional obstacle.
“You might be able to create a diversion. Knock something over, pretend to faint: anything to divert attention. And while you do that, I’ll write the bet in the book.”
“Both of us dressed up as gentlemen, I take it.”
“But of course.” Rhoda was already racking her brain to think where she might come up with a waistcoat, jacket, breeches, and a hat that might work for her. And for Sophia.
“Dev forbade me to do this, you know.”
Rhoda’s head snapped up at this. “You mean you told him?”
Sophia shrugged her petite shoulders, a few blond curls dangling around her face. “I tell him everything. And he’s always deigned to give me advice. But he’s never forbidden me to do anything.”
Rhoda recalled how she’d felt upon hearing that word from her mother. And then later from Carlisle.
“I’m going to do it, of course.” Sophia tilted her chin up just a notch.
“Of course.” Rhoda understood completely.
“We can watch from across the street for a group of dandies to enter together. I think we’ll fit in best with that sort. It might be tricky, but it oughtn’t be so very difficult.”
“Dev told me that the wager has taken on of a life of its own. A separate ledger has been tucked into the betting book. The betting book sits on a pedestal near the front drawing room. You’ll have to locate it. Once you’ve done so, I suppose I can create the diversion.”
“What sort of diversion?”
Sophia wrinkled her nose in thought. “As we discussed already, I’ll do something to draw attention. Run into a waiter…” And then with a twinkle in her eye, she said, “Initiate a fight.”
“Good Lord, Sophia, that’s the last thing we need… you being called out. Challenged to meet some blighter at dawn.”
The laughter they shared wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
Sophia was going to do it with her. Rhoda gave into the overwhelming urge to embrace her friend.
“Rhoda, remember, please, I’m not using a wet nurse!” Sophia pushed her away and glanced down at her bosom. Sure enough, two spots of moisture had appeared on the front of her gown.
“Now that would be an interesting diversion.” Sophia looked irate and then they both erupted into another fit of giggles.
When they finally brought themselves under control, they’d decided to set the plan into motion for tomorrow at eleven in the morning. Sophia would send over clothing for Rhoda to wear later today. She’d said so many wardrobes had been left at Prescott House by Dev’s relatives that she’d have no troubles locating two sets of disguises. Rhoda’s task was to perfect Lord Carlisle’s signature. They would place the bet using his Viscount title so that others wouldn’t question him about it. Best the bet remained anonymous for as long as possible.
Tomorrow morning it was to be then.
Rhoda left terrified, but also with a skip in her step. She wondered what Cecily and Emily would think when they discovered Sophia and she had broken into White’s.
A gentleman gave her a curious glance when she giggled out loud as she passed him. Rhoda’s maid likely was scowling as she followed behind her.
Tomorrow!
Rhoda hadn’t slept a wink, various scenarios playing out in her mind not allowing even a moments rest. She wondered if Sophia fared any better.
The night before, Rhoda had used up the remainder of her ink practicing the notation she was to make in the book. Hopefully, nobody knew Lord Carlisle’s secondary title. If anyone caught her forging it, she’d be challenged upon the spot.
She spent the early hours of the morning working on her disguise. She’d first thought to pin her hair atop her head and keep it under the hat but if she were to lose her hat… She realized it could look more natural tied into a simple queue at the nape of her neck. She tucked it under once, hiding the length.
What with the cravat, waistcoat, and jacket, she even managed to hide her other feminine assets. After wrapping a long piece of muslin around her chest, that was.
She wondered how Sophia would manage to hide this sort of preparation from her husband.
When Lucy knocked on her door, Rhoda climbed beneath the covers and pulled it over her head. “I’ve a megrim this morning! I’ve no wish for breakfast or chocolate!” she murmured as though half asleep. She only hoped her mother wouldn’t see fit to check on her.
In truth, she was starting to feel like she might vomit. This had nothing to do with her health, however, but everything to do with her nerves.
What if they were caught?
What if Dev discovered the plan and kept Sophia from assisting her? Would Rhoda have the nerve to undertake it on her own?
She had to!
The alternative was unthinkable! More days, possibly weeks, of fending off advances that had become violent in nature. And even worse, having to relinquish Justin to some other lady.
After Lucy had closed the door behind her, Rhoda wanted to cry. She needed to pull herself together.
And then another knock sounded at the door. “Rhoda?”
It couldn’t be.
She sat up in her bed, momentarily forgetting to stay hidden and called out. “Cecily?”
The door cracked open and sure enough, Cecily peered in with a cheery grin. “Whatever are you doing dressed that way?” She opened the door farther and strode across the carpet, taking in Rhoda’s strange costume with questioning eyes.
“Oh.” Rhoda tugged at her cravat in an attempt at nonchalance. “Sophia and I are sneaking into White’s today. I’m going to place a bet on Carlisle, so he can pay off the bills he’s inherited along with his title.” Might as well come right out with it. Cecily would get it all out of her anyhow. “I thought you were with Emily.”
Cecily waved her hand in the air. “We left her with her husband. She and Lord Blakely had quite the adventure.” She regaled Rhoda with an unbelievable turn of events and then absentmindedly began retying Rhoda’s cravat. “You need a valet, Rhoda. Tell me all about what you have planned because I’m going with you! I can’t allow the two of you to sneak into White’s without me!”
“Hm…” Sophia had sent over a rather large assortment of clothing. Rhoda pointed toward the worn carpetbag sitting outside her dressing room door. Cecily’s assistance certainly couldn’t hurt. “Let’s see what we can put together for you. But we have to hurry. I promised Sophia I’d meet her a block away at a quarter till eleven.”
Cecily finished the cravat with a flourish and then examined the contents of the bag.
“Aren’t you going to chastise me for manipulating too much?” Rhoda asked her somewhat skeptically, the disapproval Cecily had expressed at Eden’s Court still stinging.
Cecily looked over her shoulder with an apologetic smile. “I was only worried for you both. Since then, I see that Emily has found herself in something of an unusual love match and Sophia wrote that you seem to be rather enamored with Lord Carlisle. I’ve realized neither of you would have trapped yourself in a marriage you didn’t really want. I ought to have trusted you both.” She stood up, holding a pair of black breeches.
“These ought to fit. Your hips are larger than mine since your confinement with Little Finn.” Rhoda stepped forward and held them up to Cecily’s waist but couldn’t stop herself from grasping her in a tight hug. “I know you were just concerned. I’ve missed you, Cecily.”
After holding tight to one another for a moment, they both awkwardly stepped back and became quite interested in the remainder of Cecily’s costume. Rhoda and Cecily had always been the least demonstrative of their foursome. Sophia was always hugging everyone, and Emily was quite affectionate as well.
They caught one another’s expressions and let out some nervous laughter.
“Oh, this one is perfect!” Cecily had pulled out a rather elaborate waistcoat. “The embroidery on this is magnificent.”
Between the two of them, they pinned and tucked and scrutinized until both of them looked passably masculine. Again, Rhoda wondered how Sophia was faring, on her own through all this.
“You aren’t concerned that Mr. Nottingham might be angry if he discovers you committed such a crime?” More and more, Rhoda was beginning to consider the entire enterprise to be more than a little illegal. Trespassing, forgery, fraud.
Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead at the thought of all they were undertaking today.
But Cecily only shrugged. “He’ll find out, all right. And then he’ll likely have a laugh over it.” She gritted her teeth together in a wince. “As long as we don’t get caught. Oh, but this is so exciting though! I absolutely adore Little Finn, you know, but it all can feel so tedious at times!”
“I’d imagine the theater would suffice.” Rhoda would not be attempting to do this if it hadn’t been absolutely necessary.
She took one last look in her glass and then stepped back. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be!” Cecily was far too cheerful for this. Rhoda’s future, Justin’s future, lives were at stake here, for heaven’s sake.
Well, perhaps not lives. But reputations, and happiness, and whatnot.
Rhoda peeked out the door and the two women slipped down the back stairs to the servants’ exit. The true test as to the effectiveness of their disguises was yet to come.
“Oh, no, Rhoda!” Cecily said in her regular high-pitched feminine voice and then again, “Oh, no, Dorwich.” This time much deeper. “You mustn’t sway your hips. Walk like a man, like this.”
Rhoda burst out laughing as Cecily attempted to walk with her knees apart, as though she had to accommodate a masculine appendage between her legs. “Too much! And what shall I call you? Warwick? I rather like Warwick for you.” And then she took several steps in a less exaggerated manner than Cecily had. By the time they reached the street, both of them had found their rhythm.
An elderly gentleman glanced at them twice, causing Rhoda to pull her hat lower. It felt odd walking down the street without taking Cecily’s arm. She wished she’d thought of a walking stick for both of them. At least that way they’d have something to do with their hands.
White’s wasn’t far, and they both strode down the sidewalk with more haste than usual.
“A diversion,” Cecily confirmed in a low voice that only Rhoda would hear. “Sophia and I will create the diversion and you get that wager down. We’ll only have one opportunity.”
Rhoda felt faint.
She never felt faint.
“Justin’s going to kill me.”
Cecily grasped her arm reassuringly. “It’ll be fine. You are destined for happiness, just as I was, and Sophia, and even Emily.”
Rhoda nodded.
“Aye, mates.” A small man edged up behind them. “What’s yer business?”
Cecily glared over her shoulder with narrowed eyes that quickly opened wide in astonishment. Behind the mustache, pipe, and lowered hat peered an all too familiar blue gaze.
“Oh, my heavens, Sophia! How simply marvelous!” She eyed the duchess from head to toe.
But for the rounder bottom than most men, Sophia perfectly resembled an elderly gentleman. Of course, Sophia had thought to bring a walking stick. And a pipe. And how on earth had she managed to locate such a perfectly crafted beard and mustache?
Sophia grunted, not budging out of her character. “You two lads ready?” She flicked her gaze toward the doorway to White’s.
Rhoda’s stomach about dropped to her toes. A group of gregarious young gentlemen approached the club. They had the air of young lords about them. They looked quite similar to Rhoda and Cecily, in fact. Sophia would stand out simply in that she had taken on the disguise of an elderly gentleman.
“This way.” Cecily sidled along the walk with Sophia closely behind. Rhoda truly understood the meaning of the term cold feet at that moment, as hers seemed to have frozen to the ground.
“Dorwich!” Cecily’s scowl jolted Rhoda into motion.
“I’m coming, Warwick,” she responded in a deep voice. Oh, heavens, she sounded nothing at all like a gentleman. She hoped she wouldn’t be required to speak once inside.
With heads down, they casually fell into step with the lively group of lordlings. One of them even dropped his arm around Cecily’s shoulders. “Haven’t seen you in a long while, Huntly.”
It seemed Cecily would now be Huntly. Her new friend had obviously had a few too many drinks this morning. Perhaps he’d never quit the night before. Nonetheless, his manner and lack of ability to distinguish his old friend Huntly from Cecily worked rather well in their favor.
“It has indeed,” Cecily answered in her man voice.
“I want to up my wager today. My understanding is that Kensington is coming close. I’d hazard that’s what brings you around finally.” He stumbled slightly and seemed to be leaning heavily on poor Cecily.
The stench of his breath was strong enough to inebriate everyone within five feet of him.
Nobody questioned them when they stepped through the hallowed entrance.
The interior far surpassed the rather ordinary design of the outside of the building. Rhoda did her best not to gawk at the luxurious settees and grand tables. A gigantic fireplace took up one end of the room, and discreet waiters attended to the gentlemen guests. Rhoda wondered that nobody could hear her heart beating.
Even more so when a footman stepped forward to take their hats. She handed it over and quickly turned her back on the employee. If they were going to be caught, surely, now would be the time.
Being insignificant, in this situation, rather seemed to be something of a blessing. All attention was currently directed at Lord Kensington, who was drinking and boasting to another cluster of young gentlemen.
The one who’d latched onto Huntly, aka Cecily, wasn’t all that interested in the joviality surrounding Flavion. Instead, he proved to be of further assistance by leading them straight to the betting book.
“Got to get this down before it’s all over,” he explained with a wink in Cecily’s direction.
Fool.
Rhoda peered over his shoulder and watched the idiot add another thousand to his wager upon Lord Kensington. Sure enough, the wager on her was deserving of a leather-bound book all its own.
Another employee hovered nearby but recognized their newfound friend and didn’t question him as he made his notation in the book.
Cecily and Sophia moved toward a billiard table and Rhoda took some tentative steps backward in hopes of disappearing into the wall tapestry.
The employee, the one watching over the betting books, moved away from the book, on alert as another gentleman had approached Flavion.
Justin!
This was her perfect opportunity.
No one was watching the book, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away from her vicar-turned-earl. He appeared determined and solid as he faced the man who’d caused so much havoc for Cecily and now, her.
Whereas Lord Kensington’s complexion was powdery and pale, Justin glowed healthily. His thick head of golden hair standing tall above the rest. His shoulders seemed broader and the energy of his character crackled in the air.
“Stand down, Kensington. You think it noble to besmirch the reputation of an innocent young woman, a genteel lady?” His voice broached no argument, but Lord Kensington had never recognized the wisdom of walking away from one so determined.
A movement behind Justin revealed Prescott standing at her fiancé’s back.
“You’ve been cossetted in your little church for too long. If you hadn’t, you’d know for certain that Miss Mossant is no innocent.” A ripple of guffaws ran through Kensington’s entourage of hangers-on.
Rhoda glanced to her left. The book sat unattended just a few feet away. Now was her chance. And yet she was frozen in place, unable to tear her gaze away from the spectacle across the room.
Please don’t do this! Rhoda begged silently. She did not want bloodshed over her. She knew enough guilt to last a lifetime. She wanted to step between the two of them. No! No! If anything were to happen to Justin because of her stupid decision last year, it would kill her.
“You wouldn’t know innocence if it jumped up and bit that arrogant ass of yours.” Justin took a step closer. He now stood inches from Kensington.
“Or if I cut off half your bollocks.” The third voice sounded terrifyingly familiar.
Oh, good God! Cecily! No!
A gentleman beside Prescott whipped his head around to see who’d dare to say anything so impudent, as did Kensington.
Justin was undeterred from his mission, however. “Hold your tongue, Kensington, or I’ll meet you at dawn.”
The gentleman who’d stared so hard at Cecily turned his attention back to Lord Kensington. “Flave. I’ve no control over your behavior, but I do hold the strings to the funds you’ve chosen to wager with.” Mr. Nottingham! Cecily’s husband! No wonder he’d stared at her so hard.
This was Rhoda’s chance. The pen had grown damp against her palm. She need only turn and carefully scrawl the signature she’d been practicing for three days now.
“She’s not worth it.” Lord Kensington’s voice raised an octave as he responded to Justin. Perhaps the earl’s confidence was dissipating at the memory of the last duel he’d participated in. “I’ll not speak of her again, but have my word, the winnings shall fall to me.”
Not if I have any say in the matter.
His bragging prodded her into action. She would save herself. She would make Justin the winner so that he could pay off the debts of his estate.
What was the name? Dorwich. Dorwich.
She set the tip of the pen to parchment but couldn’t make her fingers move.
The disappointment she’d seen on Justin’s face, when he’d learned of her and Emily’s machinations at Eden’s Court, froze her hand.
She’d betrayed him.
Would he trust her again if she did this?
Trust me?
She shivered as she remembered how his breath had stirred the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck.
Please.
He’d corrected his demand and turned it into a request.
Blast.
Rhoda stared at her hand as it hovered over the book. It was shaking. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears and a bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck.
Please, he’d said.