Page 57 of The Rakehell of Roth
“Fair point.”
He directed a waiting footman to bring him another glass of water, which he drank thirstily. The cumulative effect of four days of drowning his misery was taking a hard toll. But staying drunk had been the only way he’d been able to stop thinking about Prue…and Kendrick…and Isobel.
God, he was a sorry sack of shit. He didn’t need anyone. He never had. No matter what one sweet-mouthed, sharp-eyed angel made him feel, it was weakness, pure and simple.
And weakness could not be tolerated.
Chapter Fifteen
Use your mouth. Well, for those things, too. But what I mean is tell him what you’re going to do, how you’re going to do it, and what you did, in explicit detail. He’ll love it.
– Lady Darcy
A few days later, with barely two weeks left for her to win the wager, Isobel huddled with Clarissa in her bedchamber staring at the invitation on black cardstock with golden script. All it listed was a date and time, The Silver Scythe, andcharity auction & masqueradebeneath it. The thick card even had a special watermark on it, possibly to deter counterfeiters.
“Where did you get this?” Isobel whispered. “This looks fancy and exclusive.”
“I stole it from Oliver’s room.”
Isobel met her friend’s eyes. “What were you doing in Oliver’s room, Clarissa?”
“Having a tea party, what else?” she replied with an eye roll.
“I think tea is a euphemism for something else with you two.” Isobel stifled her snort. “We might have to title Lady Darcy’s next letter: ‘Adult Teatime, a short treatise on how to take one’s tea, how to pour, and how to swallow like a lady.’”
She didn’t see the pillow coming at her face until it was too late and she almost choked on her laughter. She sobered as she sat up and retrieved the fallen invitation. “Won’t Oliver miss this?”
Clarissa bit her lip. “He’s a little under the weather this evening and has taken to his bed early. I saw it the other day when we were…er…never you mind what we were doing, but I figured since he wasn’t going to use it tonight, you could go in his place.”
“Wait, did you steal this invitation from the duke’s son?”
She threw a dramatic hand to her chest. “Theoretically, it’s not really stealing if he isn’t physically able to go, is it? It’s more like bequeathing the invitation elsewhere. You’re like his second, standing in for him.”
“This isn’t a duel, and using fancy words like bequeath doesn’t change the fact that it’s thievery.”
“Fancy words categorically help.”
Pursing her lips, Isobel shook her head at her friend’s resolute face and stared down at the fancy cardstock, her fingers tracing over the edges. The idea of going back to the club was a titillating one, but there would be risks, unlike when she’d gone with Winter before. Still, a hum of excitement rose in her belly.
“What if Oliver wakes, feels recovered, and decides he wants to go?”
Clarissa grinned. “Then I shall use my imagination and distract him thoroughly. Don’t worry, dearest, I am never without a plan. And it’s always sisters before misters.” She patted Isobel’s shoulder when she didn’t smile back. “Trust me, from what I saw earlier, he’s not going to be in any shape to go out. You’re safe.”
“I don’t know about this, Clarissa. What if they know it isn’t mine?”
“They won’t.” Her friend bit her lip as though she had more to say, and then blew out a breath. “Youhaveto go Isobel. I think that Italian woman is going to be there. Oliver told me that when they were at Vauxhall, she asked him about some special charity auction at The Silver Scythe. I think this might be it.”
“Why would Oliver tell you that?”
“Because I was digging for information on that hussy, what do you think?” She rolled her eyes skyward. “I asked him if her fiancé expected him to escort her anywhere else, and then promptly forbade him from doing so.”
Isobel blinked. “And you didn’t think to mention anything before?”
“You weren’t exactly in the best frame of mind after that outing, if you recall.” She shot her a wry look. Isobel had spent the entire next day in bed with chocolates and wine, being convinced by Clarissa and the twins of the benefits of not murdering her husband. “And honestly I didn’t even know he had an invitation.”
“It might not even be the same event.”
Clarissa sniffed, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Even if it wasn’t, put it this way…if that woman somehow managed to attend what is purported to be the most scandalous auction of the year atyour husband’sclub, and you were not there, consider how you would feel.” She waved the card like a precious trophy. “However, say there’s one invitation about to fall into the palms of your sticky little hands, are you going to use it? Or are you going to turn tail and cower, and let some other jade paddle in your pond?”
