"Did I miss anything?" Berty asked as she rushed into Bethanny's room. With a complete lack of grace, she sprang onto the bed, her impact jostling Bethanny and Beatrix who were reclining.
Fretting was more accurate.
Molly had been sent to fetch more chocolate.
Of course, this probably was the third time, but Bethanny refused to count.
"Yes, you did," Beatrix answered.
"I knew it," Berty whined. "I couldn't get here fast enough, blasted lessons."
"Berty!" Bethanny's brow furrowed. Goodness' sake, it would be a miracle if Berty ever turned out to be lady.
"It's true." Berty shrugged, nonplused by her sister's reprimand. She reached for the last bit of chocolate and quickly popped the decadent piece of bittersweet delight into her mouth.
Bethanny scowled.
"It's not as if you both haven't had your share," Berty took in her sister's glower.
"True," Beatrix amended, though she was eyeing the few small specks of chocolate remaining on the plate with acute longing etched on her features.
"So, what did I miss?" Berty asked after swallowing.
"This is a disaster," Bethanny fell back on the bed and closed her eyes.
"Why?" Berty asked impatiently.
Bethanny swore she could hear her younger sister's eyes roll — if that were possible.
"Carlotta affirmed her suspicions."
"Suspicions?" Berty asked, her tone lingering as she waiting for an answer.
"Suspicions that the duke… er… witnessed an amorous encounter taking place between our dear sister and Lord Graham."
Berty's eyes grew to the size of tea saucers. "Blast it all."
"I agree wholeheartedly," Bethanny murmured.
"So…" Berty shifted on the bed, causing Bethanny to shift her gaze from the ceiling to her youngest sister, "what are we going to do?"
"We?" Bethanny spoke at the same as Beatrix, disbelief coloring their tones.
"Yes, we! You love Lord Graham, do you not?" Berty asked, rising up on her knees and placing her hands on her hips.
"Yes," Bethanny affirmed.
"Then we can't just let this… setback… steal away your opportunity to snatch him up." Berty nodded.
"Snatch him up?" Beatrix repeated.
Berty shrugged. "Very well. Leg shackle him, marry him, give him the ol' parson's noose."
"What a lovely picture you paint of marriage," Beatrix drolled.
"That's what they all say," Berty answered succinctly.
Beatrix's eyes narrowed. "All? And who is all? Just who have you been speaking with, Berty?"
"Very well, I read it."
"In a book?"
"In the gossip papers, if you must know," Berty huffed.
"Because that is a reputable source of information," Beatrix whispered quietly for Bethanny's ears only.
Bethanny nodded.
And rolled her eyes for good measure.
"We are digressing!" Berty slammed her fist into her hand, startling Bethanny. "What we need…" Berty bit her lower lip and slid off the bed. Her slippers made a muted sound as she paced the hardwood floor of Bethanny's room.
"We need a plan," Beatrix added, moving to stand as well.
Bethany smiled. "I believe we established that."
"What we need…" Berty paused and tapped her lip with her first finger. "I've got it!" she shouted, causing Beatrix to squeal and jump back slightly.
Bethanny scooted back on the bed, so devilish and mischievous was the glint in her younger sister's eyes.
"We need a house party!"
"Because?" Beatrix cocked her head to one side, casting a confused glance to Bethanny.
"Because then we can invite Lord Graham," Berty finished, with a tone that suggested she thought her older sister quite daft.
"Ah, yes! Because Lord Graham will flee Scotland at the first opportunity at visiting his dear old friend, the Duke of Clairmont, who, from what we understand, ran him off English soil!" Beatrix said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Bethanny held her tongue. Her comment wouldn't have been as kind.
"No. We don't have him invited by the duke. You ninnies are daft! We have his sister invite him."
"And why would he come to the summons of his sister? That hasn't exactly worked in the past," Bethanny asked, dubious.
"Oh, he'll come…" Berty nodded, her eyes dancing.
"Why?"
"Because we're going to tell him it's Bethanny's engagement party."
"I am not certain this will work," Bethanny heard herself say once again as she cast a dubious glance to Beatrix.
She shrugged, which wasn't any help whatsoever.
"Of course it will work!" Berty affirmed again. She was the only one with any conviction on the matter; of course, that could be because it was her idea.
Bethanny wondered why she hadn't protested.
No, she knew.
She was that desperate. It had been a full week since Lord Graham's sudden departure, and as each day passed, she'd felt his absence more acutely than the last.
"But what if word gets out—"
"It won't. Lady Southridge will be the sole of discretion." Berty nodded, her soft curls bouncing as if adding emphasis.
"That—" Beatrix started.
"Is what I'm concerned about," Bethanny finished.
"You need to give her more credit," Berty huffed quietly as they approached the salon door. "Now, you remember the plan?"
"It's not espionage, Berty." Bethanny rolled her eyes.
"But think of how much more fun it would be if—" Berty began.
"If this were over with?" Beatrix interrupted.
"You two are no longer any fun to be around," she said quietly then added. "If this is what falling in love does to you, I'm considering spinsterhood."
Beatrix glanced to Bethanny and rolled her eyes dramatically.
Bethanny shared the sentiment deeply.
As Berty opened the door to the blue salon, filtered sunlight spilled into the hall and illuminated the rich tone of the hardwood floors. The sound of skirts swishing accompanied their entrance a moment before Murray caught up in efforts to announce her.
Poor Murray. As if anyone could hope to keep up with Lady Southridge.
"Girls!" Lady Southridge stood and welcomed them with a bright grin.
"Good afternoon," Bethanny spoke for her sisters.
Lady Southridge's eyes skittered from Beatrix to Berty, not making eye contact with Bethanny.
Strange.
"I received your missive, Berty. I must say you have a wild flair for the dramatic, love." Lady Southridge grinned and raised an eyebrow.
"Berty?" Bethanny turned to her younger sister, her tone questioning.
"Er, thank you, Lady Southridge." Berty took a few steps away from Bethanny and sat, ignoring Bethanny's question.
"I'm not sure it was meant as a compliment," Beatrix whispered to Bethanny before she moved to sit on a chaise across from Lady Southridge.
"Indeed," Bethanny answered, eyeing her sister meaningfully.
"Now, what is this secret mission?" Lady Southridge leaned forward, her eyes dancing.
"Secret mission?" Bethanny repeated, then turned accusing eyes to Berty.
Berty had the wisdom to study her lap and not meet her sister's gaze.
"Yes! The note was quite cryptic! I was utterly impatient to discover what needed such secrecy! Oh! And Berty, do not fret. I did not even disclose my whereabouts to my lady's maid. And you'll be impressed," she grinned wildly and held up her gloved hand next to her mouth as if to whisper, "I had my coachman drop me off at the Kensington Gardens, and I walked the rest of the way here, so absolutely no one knows where I am!" She lowered her hand and swept it with a grand flourish.
"Brilliant." Berty leaned forward, her manner delighted.
"Lady Southridge! No one knows where you are? And you walked? Alone? From Kensington Gardens?" Bethanny scolded, hanging her good manners and placing her hands on her hips.
"Psh, love. I'm nearly sixty — though you'll carry that information to your grave." She narrowed her eyes dangerously until Bethanny, along with her two sisters, nodded their agreement. "And being such, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"But what if thieves had assaulted you in the park?"
"At this hour?" Lady Southridge shook her head. "Besides, I always carry this," she pulled up her reticule and withdrew a pistol," when I'm alone."
Bethanny gasped.
Beatrix leaned back.
Berty reached for it.
"Ah, no." Lady Southridge smacked her hand. "When you're older," she amended then winked.
Berty's grin was wide enough to split her face.
"Heaven help us all, it's bad enough that you're carrying around a weapon. Don't promise that Berty might do the same. Goodness knows what trouble will follow!" Bethanny shook her head.
"And to think I said that Berty had a flair for the dramatic." Lady Southridge turned a slightly irritated gaze to Bethanny. "Now, are we going to cackle about like old hens, or are you going to let me in on your little secret?" Silently, she put the pistol away in her reticule and set it on the floor beside her.
Bethanny's gaze kept straying to it, the seemingly benign sky-blue reticule. She didn't know what was more dangerous: the pistol or Lady Southridge.
It was a tie.
"Well, you see there's been… a situation," Berty began, as she smoothed her lavender skirt and nodded slightly, causing her chestnut curls to spring.
"Oh heavens…" Lady Southridge leaned forward, her eyes widening, but her tone anything but delighted.
"You see." Berty cut a sidelong glance to Bethanny." My sister and your brother—"
"Berty, perhaps I should explain?" Bethanny cut in. Heaven only knew that with the current state of things, by the end of the conversation their original plans would be wildly overstated.
And absurd.
And utterly unhelpful. And right now, she needed help.
Desperately.
"Very well." Berty pouted and leaned back.
"Ah, so this is about Edward." Lady Southridge turned knowing eyes to Bethanny.
"Yes." Bethanny swallowed the lump in her throat at the mention of his name. "You see, Lord Graham and I… that is, we…" She stumbled trying to, in some sort of ladylike fashion, disclose the nature of the situation.
"Blast it all. They kissed! And the duke saw the whole thing—"
"Not the whole thing," Beatrix cut in, her eyes darting between Bethanny and Beatrix with a worried crease to her brow.
"Berty!" Bethanny cried.
"It's true!"
"Yes, but—" Bethanny started.
"You didn't have to put it so—" Beatrix interjected.
"Honestly?" Berty finished.
"Girls?" Lady Southridge asked softly.
Bethanny turned her furious gaze from Berty to Lady Southridge.
"I'm quite certain that I have surmised the situation." She nodded confidently.
"Er, how?" Bethanny asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. It wasn't as if they'd stated, or interrupted each other, with much information.
"You see, I was actually going to contact you, Bethanny dear, to see if you knew the cause for my dear," she shook her head as if exasperated, "deluded brother's departure to Scotland. Especially when things were going so well."
"And?" Bethanny prodded, still not comprehending what exactly she was trying to explain.
"And, knowing that Edward was… more amorous than I anticipated, coupled with the information that the duke had caught your… shall we say, affection for one another? It simply all makes sense. The question is, what are we going to do to remedy the situation?" She placed her hands placidly on her lap as she warmly regarded Bethanny.
How in hades is the woman so calm about it all?
"I have a plan." Berty clapped, her expression overjoyed.
"Let's hear it."
"What we are assuming is that Lord Graham left after having a bit of a gentleman's argument with the duke."
"If I may ask, how are you aware of this… gentleman's argument?" Lady Southridge asked skeptically.
"Carlotta. She approached the duke."
"And who described it as a gentleman's argument?"
Berty glanced to Beatrix, who glanced to Bethanny.
"The duke, I believe," Bethanny answered, unsure as to why it was important.
"Ah."
"Ah?" Bethanny questioned.
"Yes, the very fact that he used the words, gentleman's argument, means that it was anything but, my dears. Or else he wouldn't have gone so far as to describe the nature of it."
"How are you so sure?" Bethanny asked, darting a glance to Beatrix.
"I know those two boys well, and even though they are men now, not so much has changed. And there's nothing that reverts a man back to his boyhood more than feeling scolded and wanting to defend himself."
"Noted." Berty nodded sagely.
Bethanny cast a longsuffering glance to her sister then turned her attention back to Lady Southridge. "So you're saying it wasn't a small argument."
"No, but it's beside the point. Berty, your plan? Please continue." She gestured to Berty, indicating for her to proceed.
Oddly enough, Bethanny fancied she looked very much like a queen as she did such.
"Since Lord Graham has left for Scotland, we decided we needed him to come back."
"Berty, I'm sure that is already understood," Beatrix murmured.
"I'm getting there," Berty huffed. "So we thought—"
"You. You thought." Bethanny felt the need to correct her sister.
"Very well, I thought that we needed to get him alone with the duke and my sister. Give him a chance to work out the issues with the duke and also make amends for being a nodcock to my sister. Garden Gate would be a lovely location for a house party. It would easily serve the purpose."
"Yes, indeed. I see the cunning of your proposal. However, what is your bait? How are we going to entice my brother from licking his proverbial wounds in Scotland and fight for the fair maiden?" Lady Southridge's eyes were dancing as she pointed to Bethanny.
"Because we're going to have you send him a missive stating that the house party is actually an engagement celebration… for Bethanny."
"Brilliant!" Lady Southridge clapped.
Berty stood and curtseyed.
Beatrix rolled her eyes but smiled softly at her sister.
"That will surely light a fire under his intentions. So, who am I to say is the lucky gentleman engaged to Miss Bethanny?"
"Er, I hadn't thought that far ahead." Berty bit her lower lip.
"Lord Neville," Beatrix spoke.
"Yes!" Bethanny grinned at her sister.
"Neville? That would work. Is there a specific reason why you chose him, Beatrix?" Lady Southridge asked while shifting her gaze from Bethanny to Beatrix.
"Didn't Lord Graham show particular jealousy that day you were accepting callers, Bethanny?"
"Indeed. I thought of that as soon as you mentioned his name." Bethanny raised an eyebrow.
This might just work.
"Delightful! Already there's a seed of jealousy. We'll simply water it."
"And let it grow?" Berty asked, a devious tone to her voice.
"Exactly."
"The question is, will he believe you?" Bethanny asked hesitantly.
"I can be quite convincing when I need to be." Lady Southridge winked. "The true question is, when are we going to have the party?"
"Bethanny?" the duke's voice called from behind his wide desk. His dark head was bowed over some missive he was finishing.
"Yes?" Bethanny replied, swallowing her trepidation.
The duke set aside the letter and met her gaze. Folding his hands, he furrowed his brows in a concerned expression. "Carlotta and Lady Southridge both spoke with me about your… ploy."
"Oh?" Bethanny tried to remain still; all she wanted to do was fidget.
"Indeed. Though I have to say, I cannot believe that one as such as yourself, a diamond of the first water, feels the need to resort to such measures to snare a gentleman… especially when the man in question is already in love with you." He sighed heavily.
"But—"
"No, let me finish. I'll agree to this scheme upon one condition." He speared her with a glance.
She nodded.
"No more moping, no more long face, no more tears behind closed doors, and absolutely no more lamenting. I accept the truth that I played a part in the departure of Lord Graham, but you must first also admit that such was my duty, my position and honor to do so, Bethanny. "He stood and walked around his desk then sat on the front of it.
Even though Bethanny held him as an older brother more than father figure, she could appreciate the handsome man before her.
Though none could compare with Lord Graham.
Blast the man.
"You behaved in an unladylike manner. You risked your reputation and Graham's. Naiveté is no excuse. I suspect you were fully aware of the implications of your actions if they were discovered by anyone but myself." He raised his eyebrows, awaiting her response.
"Yes, Your Grace."
He exhaled a sigh. "Why did you not speak with me? Why did you not confide in me? And why Lord Graham of all people? When you could have your choice of all the—"
"I love him, Your Grace. Pardon the interruption," she added belatedly, her face heating at her brash behavior.
"One kiss does not equal love."
"No. You're correct. But love can begin in the heart of a child and grow till it can be mature in the heart of a woman," she answered.
He twisted his lips and glanced at the fire before turning once again to her. "Indeed. But you still haven't answered my question."
"I didn't approach you, Your Grace, because Lord Graham is your friend. Already I knew this would be difficult for you to accept—"
"Because he's my friend?"
"Because of his… past reputation. One that you, at one time, shared, Your Grace."
Bethanny held her breath. This was the only time she had admitted to knowing anything about the duke's past. Though it was odd that everyone expected her to be ignorant, since she was a full sixteen when she'd met him. Even at sixteen, a young lady can understand certain things.
"And it was because of this… reputation of Lord Graham you thought his pursuit would be unacceptable?"
"Yes. Because you seemed to imply that I deserved something… different."
"You mean more."
"To your perspective, yes."
The duke pushed up from his desk and paced about the room. "As I said, I'll agree to this… whatever it is you ladies have concocted. Personally, I'd rather simply go to Scotland myself and wring the bloo — er, my dear friend's neck. In the future, please pass along to your sisters that I'd like to be told everything up front and not find out the secret intentions of suitors after I find them in compromising situations and certainly not when I have them in an enclosed carriage where I can easily murder them and dispose of the body. I'm far too handsome for Newgate." The duke smiled then, implying he was joking.
But Bethanny wasn't fully convinced.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"You have two weeks till the house party. That should be enough time for Graham to get the invitation and for him to arrive. However, no one else is to find out our little… embellishment concerning Lord Neville. That will be kept in completely confidence. Lord knows, we don't need further drama." He wiped his hand down his face.
"Of course."
"You're excused, but remember when the time comes, this is all on my terms, my rules, and no exceptions. Understood?"
"Utterly, Your Grace." Bethanny curtseyed and turned to leave.
"Bethanny?"
"Yes?"
"For the record, yes. I would have had some trouble accepting Lord Graham as your suitor. However, that would have been quickly overcome had I known about your mutual attachment. You need to understand that I fully approve of the gentleman you've given your heart to," he nodded, "though I don't approve of his methods. I can't exactly call the kettle black now, can I?" He chuckled softly.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Bethanny whispered.
"And don't worry, if this ruse we've created doesn't work, I'm perfectly willing to go and collect him from Scotland for you. All he's doing is wallowing in his own misery." The duke spoke the words as if they gave him utterly glee. "Though I'd wait a little longer than necessary, just to make him suffer a bit."
"How kind."
"I thought as much. You're excused." The duke chuckled and walked back around to his desk and sat.
Bethanny left, expelling a long breath of relief as she walked down the hall. Two more weeks.
But it seemed like two years.