Hell of a Lady

by Anders, Annabelle

  Rhoda had visited Eden’s Court only once before, for Sophia’s wedding, but she’d traveled then with Cecily and Mr. Nottingham. Today would be her mother and sisters’ first visit and as they entered the long, stately drive, she enjoyed the looks of awe on their faces. “Oh, Rhoda,” her mother effused. “And to think this was all nearly yours.”

  Argh! She needed to put a stop to this somehow. An idea struck her just then. Only one thing could change the direction of her stubborn mother’s thoughts.

  “Mother,” she said firmly. “Every time you say something like that, every time you remind me of St. John’s demise, you send me into a painful melancholy. How can I possibly consider marrying another gentleman when I am filled with such grief?”

  Her mother didn’t respond right away. And then, after all of thirty seconds passed, she backed herself away from the window and turned to Rhoda, her face covered in remorse. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think… But of course, of course, I will do as you ask.”

  Rhoda almost felt guilty. “Thank you, Mother. I’d appreciate that.”

  Holly had been listening as well. “So, will you marry one of the gentlemen the duchess has invited to the party, then, Rho?” Rhoda couldn’t help smiling at her youngest sister’s naiveté. Holly, half girl, half woman at fifteen, would likely outshine both Rhoda and Coleus. Rhoda just hoped Holly didn’t make the same mistake that she had.

  In fact, she’d do everything she could to prevent it. Quite possibly as a ruined spinster, left on the shelf to live out her years.

  Who would marry her now? Certainly not Lord Blakely, and Lord Carlisle was far too pure for her. Rhoda feigned excitement. “I’m hopeful, Holly.” If such a man existed—one who didn’t care about her past—were to ask, then perhaps…

  They came to a stop in front of the mansion and waited for one of the grooms to set down the step. Glancing up as she climbed out, gladness filled her when she spied Sophia rushing outside toward the carriage. Cheeks flushed, she greeted them with a broad smile. Rhoda embraced Sophia as though they hadn’t seen one another in months before stepping back.

  Mrs. Mossant and the two younger girls dropped into curtsies.

  “Are you getting used to all of this duchess business yet?” Rhoda whispered into Sophia’s ear.

  Sophia didn’t answer her but instead laughed and then graciously invited everybody inside.

  Lucy followed behind and was led upstairs by the housekeeper. Rhoda’s mother and sisters were anxious to settle in and decided to follow as well. Once they’d disappeared, Sophia dragged Rhoda into a grand drawing room on the second floor.

  “We arrived a few hours ago.” Sophia seemed more fidgety than usual. Perhaps she felt guilty for hosting guests right now, after all. Rhoda would put her concerns to rest.

  “I realized why you thought it so imperative to throw this house party. At first, I thought you’d simply gone a little batty, but I understand now.”

  Sophia stilled and then raised her brows. “You do?

  “Emily.”

  “Uh…”

  “The dear girl is destined to be sent to Wales with that dreadful aunt of hers again if we can’t find her a husband. I’m sorry for being obtuse about this earlier. Anyhow, I know the perfect man for her!”

  Rhoda pulled them both down onto the settee while Sophia stared at her in some odd sort of fascination. She seemed confused for a moment but then began nodding effusively. “Who? Have you met Lieutenant Landon before then?”

  Rhoda waved a hand in the air, dismissing this Lieutenant Landon, whoever he was. “Lord Carlisle! Mr. White. He’s coming this week, isn’t he?” He’d mentioned that while at the garden party. Rhoda knew Sophia would never forget how Mr. White had behaved so chivalrously when Harold had met with his accident.

  Sophia blinked those bright blue eyes of her. “I hadn’t really considered Mr. White for Emily, but now that you mention it. He is such a kind man, after all, and he is an Earl now.”

  Rhoda held up her hand and, using her fingers, began listing all the reasons for her decision, already feeling more like herself. “Number one, he’s sweet and charming. Not at all rakish. A man such as he would be tolerant and understanding of Emily’s… er foibles. Number two, he’s new on the marriage mart and, despite his good looks, hasn’t yet become enamored with himself. Thirdly, he’s good looking. Did I mention that yet? Quite dreamy, really. And fourth, but most importantly, he’s here. And there are no other simpering debutantes to fight over him. I think with a few carefully orchestrated situations between the two of them, he’ll be offering for her within the fortnight.”

  Sophia began nodding in agreement. “You mentioned his good looks twice.”

  “What?” Surely not! “No, number two was not about his looks. That was about his current mindset toward matrimony. He hasn’t yet had a chance to raise his defenses, so to speak.”

  “Ah.” Sophia bit her lip and then seemed to come to a decision. “I think it’s a marvelous idea. How shall we proceed?”

  Rhoda rose from the settee and began pacing back and forth. She did her best thinking while walking. Always. And it helped to focus on Emily’s troubles. Give her brain a rest from her own.

  “Who else is here, then?” First, she needed to understand the situation clearly.

  “Lieutenant Landon, Dev’s military friend, Dev, Emily, and Blakely, of course. And then there are your mother and sisters. Cecily and Mr. Nottingham won’t arrive until tomorrow, and I just received a letter from her. She’s persuaded her father to join them.”

  “So, but for my sisters, we have even numbers. We need to keep Emily separated from Coleus and Holly. If she gets caught up in their silliness, she’ll do nothing to try to attract a man. After supper, Mama will send the girls to their chamber. Let’s play parlor games. The interesting kind. But we’ll fix the game from the beginning so as to throw Carlisle and Emily together somehow.”

  Rhoda stopped pacing and tapped her finger on her bottom lip.

  “What about charades?” Sophia supplied.

  “No, too tame.” Rhoda tapped three more times and then gasped. “I’ve got it. Bridge of Sighs.”

  Sophia twisted her mouth up somewhat disapprovingly. “The one where a lady rides around on a gentleman’s back, on the floor? And then asks each of the gentlemen present for a kiss?” She sat up straight and placed her hands in her lap demurely. “I don’t want Dev kissing other women, Rhoda.”

  Rhoda laughed. “Dev and Mr. Nottingham can kiss the ladies on their cheeks. That leaves three other bachelors who can play in earnest. We’ll have Emily go first and then, after that, I’ll announce that I’m exhausted and ready to retire for the evening. It will be perfect! We can see how each of the gentlemen respond to her!”

  Still looking dubious, Sophia acquiesced. “Well, you might look in on her. She’s having troubles with her spectacles.”

  Rhoda would take care of Emily’s troubles. The spectacles would have to remain on Emily’s dresser this evening. “She really does have fine eyes, you know, Soph?”

  Sophia laughed at that. “If only she could see out of them!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Emily’s Plan

  Rhoda found Emily’s room easily enough, knocked on the door, and then turned the knob without awaiting an answer. Sitting in the middle of the room with clothing strewn about, Emily appeared paler than usual and somewhat distraught. “Emily, are you unwell?”

  “Rhoda?” Squinting one eye, Emily stared in Rhoda’s general direction. What on earth had come over the poor girl?

  The room appeared to have been ransacked.

  Rhoda picked her way through the discarded garments until she could examine her friend more closely. Ah, something was amiss with her spectacles. One of the glass pieces had gone missing. “What have you done to your glasses? You look strange. One eye is larger than the other.”

  In Emily’s rather roundabout way of explaining things, she spit out that she’d dropped them in the coach
during their journey and then somehow stepped on them. “And now I cannot locate my spare pair, and I’ve no maid to assist me with any of this!” Emily didn’t become upset often. Apparently, the pressure her parents had been exerting was distressing her.

  “You silly girl.” Rhoda paced across the room, called for a maid, and then began scooping Emily’s atrocious gowns off the floor. Browns, ugly dull green colors, and some dark lavender ones. Anybody would think the poor girl was in mourning. “What have you packed? The old usual? If you don’t wish to live out the rest of your life in Wales, we’ll need to come up with gowns more appealing than these.”

  “My predicament! What of yours? I’m so sorry Mother wouldn’t allow me to attend the garden party with you. You didn’t experience any… difficulties, did you?”

  Rhoda froze for the slightest moment and then swallowed hard. She’d not imagined being shunned at the garden party. If Emily’s mother heard something… Did Rhoda really wish to know? Even though her heart raced, she pretended nothing had been amiss.

  “Where do you think you put the spectacles? Inside the trunk? Did you wrap them in a cloth or something? Could they be with your jewelry?”

  “In a little green drawstring bag.”

  “Hmph.” Rhoda searched around without locating anything of the like. At the same time, she pushed down the panic Emily’s words invoked. What were members of the ton saying about her? “I don’t see anything like it.”

  “Nothing untoward happened, did it?” Emily seemed to sense Rhoda’s disquiet.

  Untoward? But yes! With Lord Kensington’s behavior and all the ladies not speaking to her! And of course, her dunking in the lake.

  The worst by far ought to have been Flavion’s advances. He’d thought he could touch her inappropriately. He’d shown her none of the respect or deference that a lady deserved.

  Ironically, though, it was the gossip that troubled her now. She could not very well confront it and squash it off. At least with Lord Kensington, she could fight back. She could strike out at his attack with her knees and fists.

  Unable to ignore Emily’s question, Rhoda dropped into the nearest chair. “What have you heard?”

  Emily’s mismatched eyes widened at her question. “You mean you don’t know? Sophia didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Rhoda braced herself. What were they all saying?

  “Well…” The normally blunt Emily seemed to hesitate over her words. “It seems that some sort of a wager has been placed. At White’s, the gentlemen’s club.”

  “About me?” A wager? What had St. John done before having the inconsideration of dying on her? He must have told somebody about what she’d done… about what they’d done.

  How many times would her poor judgment come back to haunt her? She’d hoped his feelings, his intentions toward her, had been respectable.

  But she’d not acted like a respectable lady. She’d acted like little more than a light skirt.

  He’d led her to believe he loved her. But he’d not come out and admitted it. Nor had he made any promises.

  She’d been so foolish. She’d trusted him with more than her heart. She’d trusted him with her body!

  Ice flowed through Rhoda’s brain at the thought of strangers knowing. She covered her mouth with one hand, feeling the contents of her stomach lurch.

  Emily rose and went to stare out the window. She waited a few seconds before turning and then dropping to her knees in front of Rhoda.

  With a heavy pounding in her heart, Rhoda blinked away threatening tears.

  “One of the members, one of the less reputable ones, if I don’t say so myself—I thought White’s was more discriminating in who they gave membership to—I can hardly fathom how such a one as whoever placed this bet has been given entry. Did you know that Lord Blakely has been denied? His father, of course.”

  Rhoda found herself gritting her teeth. Get to the point already!

  “Oh, yes, the wager. Well, as I’ve already mentioned, it is about you.” Emily frowned deeply. “Someone has spread a dreadful rumor that you, er, well, lifted your skirts for St. John before he met his end.”

  All the air left Rhoda’s lungs, and the edges of her vision darkened.

  She should have known. All those declarations of love, those whispered compliments, and avowals of devotion, had meant but naught to him.

  And she’d been naïve enough to believe him!

  All of that, his lies, his fake charm, were bad enough, but to then tell others what they’d done—what she’d done—she nearly choked on the bile rising from her stomach.

  “Well then.” Rhoda spoke evenly, ignoring the urge to sob. “How does one of these ignoble gentlemen win?”

  “Amorous congress with the object of the bet. With you.” Emily was not one to gloss things over. At that moment, Rhoda wasn’t quite so sure she appreciated this quality.

  But no. At least she knew now. It was worse than she ever might have imagined.

  And then she couldn’t help herself.

  She gasped and slumped forward. “Men are monsters, Emily.” No wonder her dance card had been filled at the Crabtrees’ ball. She had known all the attention had been too good to be true. No wonder Lord Kensington had been so forward with her. That villain had simply been trying to win a bet.

  A bet!

  “But I have a plan.”

  Rhoda barely registered Emily’s voice. A plan?

  Despite feeling as though matters were beyond hopeless, she forced herself to sit up.

  “Blakely’s father,” Emily continued, “has taken their quarrel to another level and had him blacklisted in London. Instead of bowing to his wishes, the earl wishes to thwart the duke. A perfect revenge for him is to marry somebody other than the young lady his father betrothed him to. And how perfectly delicious it would be for him to marry a lady deep in scandal herself! You! The two of you can simply dash up to Gretna Green over the next week or two and voila! Two birds with one stone!”

  “Blakely?” Rhoda burst out laughing! It was either that or cry. “Blakely? He’ll never marry. He’s playing with you. Trust me, it’s a joke to him.”

  Emily pushed herself up from the floor and stepped toward the window again. “Well, um, he hasn’t exactly agreed to it yet, but he will. I didn’t wish to present the idea to him unless I knew you would be willing.” She lifted her thumb to her teeth and chewed on the nail.

  Disgusting habit! Rhoda had to push her annoyance away in order to pay attention to what Emily said. Well, of course, he hadn’t agreed to it. He never would.

  “I realize it’s quite a lot to take in right now, but you are in something of a muddle. I don’t want those immoral fellows to keep saying things about you. This would quiet them for certain. What do you think?”

  Emily had always been the wallflower facing the most obstacles when it came to landing a husband, the most awkward, the one who needed protecting from society’s unkind assessment. And now Emily, of all people, was trying to help her.

  Rhoda flinched. She wasn’t prepared to face the ruinous extent of her situation. She wanted to wish it magically away.

  Emily stared at her sternly. Her friend, it seemed, wasn’t allowing such nonsense.

  Even so…“Lord Blakely?” Rhoda doubted he’d ever come around, no matter how plausible Emily believed this plan of hers might be.

  Perhaps… Rhoda may not be able to do anything about her own deplorable circumstances, but she could use this plan to gain Emily’s cooperation in Rhoda’s much more credible scheme.

  Rhoda pushed her own troubles away, jumped up, and plucked a particularly atrocious gown from the bed. It seemed to be the color of, well, the color of—she didn’t even want to think about it. “I’ve come to a decision.” She tossed the gown aside and examined another.

  “Are you still looking for my spectacles?”

  “I am not.” She waved one hand in the air. “However, you may tell Lord Blakely I might possibly go alo
ng with such a stratagem, but you must do something in turn for me.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, Rho! I’ll speak with him next time I get a chance.” Of course, Rhoda expected Emily would try to ignore the stipulation.

  “You need a husband as badly as I do, Emily. You, too, shall woo a gentleman to the altar over the next two weeks.”

  Emily frowned, temporarily losing all semblance of her brief bout of enthusiasm. “I know. I know.” She squeezed her eyes together tightly and threw the broken spectacles onto the bed. “I just, I… I don’t know how!” She appeared as though she might cry. She’d better not, for if she did, Rhoda would, too.

  “Sit down.” Rhoda steered Emily to the chair by the window. “And listen.” She rummaged around until she located some paper and a pencil and then plunked it down on her lap. “Take notes.”

  “Number one,” Rhoda began, “Sophia will select all of your gowns for the next fourteen days. You are not to wear any of these…” Rhoda searched for an appropriate word to describe the dresses that made up Emily’s wardrobe. Oh, yes. “…abominations. Ever again.”

  Emily, who’d been peering at her list from less than three inches away, glanced up from the foolscap with a scowl, but Rhoda continued without so much as an apology. “Number two.” She must remain firm on this count. “You will not wear your spectacles. Men wish to see a lady’s eyes, not a piece of hardware perched on your nose.”

  Rhoda knew this would be difficult, nearly impossible for Emily, but forced herself to remain firm at the thought of her dearest ally being sent so far away from them all.

  “Number three, although you won’t be able to see each gentleman clearly, I shall point you in his direction and you shall gaze longingly toward the blur, or whatever it is you see. And listen to him. Ask him questions about his childhood, about his hobbies.”

  Rhoda paused. Although Emily was shrewd and book smart, social affairs tended to confuse her more than anything else. Best to keep things simple.