Page 15 of The Rakehell of Roth
“Who’s the liar now? You don’t know anything about…such things,” Isobel huffed. But once the twins started giggling, that was it—their laughter was infectious. Clarissa was innocent in body, but her mind was unconscionably filthy. And she clearly had no problem corrupting friends and maids alike. Likely another consequence of being a chronic eavesdropper with five older brothers. “Unempirical knowledge does not make one an expert.”
Clarissa waved a careless arm. “Be that as it may, we have a plan, and we must see through said plan. Seduce Lord Roth forthwith, and perhaps get Lady Roth up the pole, too.”
“You wish to get with child, Isobel?” Violet asked, wide-eyed.
She squashed the ugly ache that spiked in her breast. “One day if that’s in my future, but right now, my only goal is bringing the Maggot of Roth to heel.”
“Just show him a little leg and he’ll be humping it in a hurry,” Clarissa said with a grin. “Woof, woof.”
“You are truly dreadful.”
Trying not to snicker, Isobel allowed the scarlet-faced maid to tend to her. She knew she’d rue the day she’d confided in Clarissa about her plan, and she should have known from the subsequent scream of “Long live Lady Darcy!” but she couldn’t have done any of this without her best friend. Once Clarissa set her mind to something, she completed it without fail. Which meant by the end of the season, Winter Vance would be a man-shaped puddle at Isobel’s feet.
As far as becomingenceinte…well, as unlikely as it was to happen, a baby would not be unwelcomed.
At least, Kendrick would get the grandchild he hoped for.
…
The fitting at Madame Pinot’s was delightful. Isobel was impressed with the efficiency of the women who worked there, as well as the Frenchwoman’s boundless knowledge of all things fashion. Isobel was certain she’d left a considerable dent in Kendrick’s accounts, but the duke had insisted that she avail herself of his credit. For Clarissa, too.
Oliver would blow an artery once he was informed of their purchases. He was stingy to a fault and hated his older brother Winter’s spendthrift ways. The thought of aggravating his stuffy, stuck-up self, made Isobel nearly chortle with unabashed delight. Oliver resented Winter with a passion, which had somehow extended to Isobel simply by default of being his wife. As a result, he was insufferably rude, treating her with the barest modicum of respect, and that was only in front of his father.
It was, perhaps, the only thing she and her husband had in common.
“Why are you smiling like the cat who ate all the cream?” Clarissa asked as they sat in the carriage surrounded by a mountain of parcels. “You know the rules…share the cream.”
“I’m thinking of Oliver’s face when he sees those bills.”
A wolfish look spread across Clarissa’s face. “Damnation, but I should have commissioned a dozen more gowns.” Her grin widened. “Shall we come up with a plan to spend more of the duke’s money, then? Shoes, hats, gloves, even new jewelry, perhaps?”
“Clarissa, you are diabolical.”
She canted her head in receipt of the compliment. “I try.” She paused. “So, are you finally going to tell me what was it like seeing your marquess now that the twins aren’t around?”
Isobel gulped, a dozen thoughts translating to her lips and resulting in only one. “He’s an ass.”
“Naturally.” Clarissa smirked. “But is he still handsome as the devil?”
“Yes.” Isobel didn’t bother lying to her best friend. She could always see right through her anyway.
“I bet Oliver’s peeved because Winter got all the good looks in the family,” she said with a laugh.
Isobel shot her a glance. “Oliver’s not ugly.”
While he favored his mother’s side with his rounder face and blond hair, there was still some resemblance between the brothers. If he wasn’t such a condescending prig at heart, he’d actually be handsome.
“Yes, well he’s a cad.” Clarissa glowered at her. “Stop trying to redirect the conversation. I want to hear about what it was like to see dear Winter after all this time. Especially considering he’s one of Lady Darcy’s deepest, darkest fantasies. Well, at least the Izzy half.”
Isobel went hot. “He is not!”
“Let’s agree to disagree. Now spill it.”
In a bland tone, Isobel recounted the details of her visit, watching Clarissa’s eyes get wider and wider.
“Your eyeballs are going to roll out of their sockets,” Isobel warned.
Clarissa gaped. “I cannot believe you actually went to 15 Audley Street.”
