Page 45 of To Dance with a Devil

“Not even in passing.”

“No mention of the wedding.”

“Or the wedding night.”

An uneasy silence filled the room.

“She sounded well enough,” Alice ventured, a hopeful note to her voice. “Not overwhelmed or… or despondent.”

“Yes,” Matilda said, smiling, and wishing she could just accept that was true and put her worries for Ruth out of her mind. “Yes, she did. I’m sure she’s quite all right.”

“She’s a very capable woman,” Harriet added, though Matilda knew as well as they all did that Ruth might just be putting a brave face on it rather than admit her mistake. “She’s strong and independent and intelligent. She’s been running her father’s household for years as her mother is such a featherbrain. If anyone can bring a chaotic household into order, it’s Ruth. She’s indefatigable.”

“She’s all of that,” Matilda said, nodding and getting to her feet; “And I think we ought to raise a glass and toast her good health and happiness, and not with tea.” She waved a bottle of French brandy at them and they all murmured their approval. It was utterly forbidden to unmarried young ladies and disapproved of for married ones, but they were hardly going to tell anyone. She poured them each a generous measure—to keep out the cold—and they raised their glasses.

“To Ruth,” they said in unison

“To Ruth,” Matilda agreed. May you be happy and well, my friend.

Once the brandy had been disposed of and the table rather depleted of cream cakes, they got onto any other business.

“I have a letter from Kitty,” Harriet said, grinning, “who has given me custody of the hat and the dares.”

There was a murmur of excitement around the room and the Peculiar Ladies who had not yet taken their dares flushed and fidgeted.

Everyone watched as Harriet fetched the hat and gave it a shake, the little slips of paper inside rustling as she did so.

“Well, who’s first?” Harriet demanded. “You made me do it, you dreadful creatures, so don’t think I won’t get my own back.”

“I feel rather odd,” Helena said, putting a hand to her heart.

“Me!” Minerva squeaked, raising her hand, her lovely face flushed. “I think it’s about time.”

Jemima bit her lip and shook her head. “Oh, no,” she said, looking like she might faint dead away. “Oh, no, I… I couldn’t.”

“Oh, to the devil with it, I’ll do it too,” Helena said, taking a deep breath. “Give me the hat,” she demanded, as imperious as ever.

“She’s never a duke’s daughter,” Prue laughed, to which Helena stuck her tongue out, thrusting her hand into the hat and swishing the paper back and forth before taking one.

She sat staring at the folded slip for a long moment before handing it to Aashini.

“You read it,” she said, pressing the backs of her hands to her cheeks which were flushed now. “I feel sick.”

Aashini took a deep breath and undid the paper. “Oh my.” She gasped, darting a panicked look at Helena.

Helena wailed and bounced up and down on the seat, waving her hands at her cheeks which were now scarlet. “Oh, good heavens! What is it? What is it?” she shrieked.

“Drive your carriage past White’s and wave to the gentlemen.”

Helena’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, good Lord, Robert will kill you,” Prue said, staring at her sister-in-law with wide eyes.

Whilst it was all well and good for a lady to drive herself about town, driving past the gentlemen’s clubs of St James would be considered fast.

“B-But Prue, I must do it now,” Helena said, thoroughly rattled. “What am I to do?”

Prue considered. “I am going to do a tour of Robert’s estates with him in the new year,” she said, frowning. “If you must do it, and I suppose you must, then that would be your best opportunity. By the time he finds out we’ll be miles away and that will give me a while to calm him down before he sees you again. Also,” she said, brightening a little. “It doesn’t say when you must do it. If you went, say, very early in the morning, when most of the gentlemen have long since collapsed in a heap or gone home and everyone sensible is abed, it’s likely no one will see you.”