Page 59 of The Wallflower Ruse

She caught up to Alfreda at the door the retiring room. Fortunately, no one occupied it except the maid whose job it was to fix torn hems and such. She hustled the maid out. “I must speak privately to my friend, but it won’t take long.”

The maid curtsied and left, closing the door behind her.

Lucinda pulled Alfreda as far away from the door as possible. “Listen to me, you little trollop. If you manage to seduce Lord Restive, you will be ruined.”

Alfreda struggled, pushing at her. “No, I shan’t. I’ll be married to him.”

“Over my dead body,” Lucinda snarled.

“Oho,” Alfreda said. “It’s because you want him, isn’t it? Well, too bad for you.”

“You are the stupidest girl I have ever met. No, I don’t want him. You have some idiotic notion that going to bed with him will be heavenly, but it won’t. It won’t be anything like your nighttime fantasies. It will be tedious and untidy, and you’ll get no enjoyment from it, and you will bitterly regret it, but it’ll be too late.”

Alfreda gaped at her. “You’ve—you’ve done it, haven’t you? You’re not a virgin, you sly thing. What was it like?”

“I have not done it, but I have overheard a number of frank conversations—my mother and her cronies, the housekeeper, the maids who were no better than they should be—so I know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t believe you.” She danced about. “Lucinda’s not a virgin. Lucinda’s not a—”

Lucinda grabbed her by the domino and shoved her against the wall. “Shut your mouth and listen to me. If you seduce him and cry to the world that he ruined you, I’ll say that he ruined me first.”

“You did it with him?”

Lucinda rolled her eyes, wishing a stray lightning bolt would strike Alfreda. “No, I did not. I will merely say I did, and that therefore I have precedence and he is obliged to marry me.”

“You bitch,” Alfreda said. “You do want him, but you’re too cowardly to admit it.”

“No, I do not want him. He would make a ghastly husband, but I do care about him. He’s my brother’s friend, and I have known him since childhood, and I will not let him be trapped by a stupid girl who refuses to behave with propriety and sense.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, he would likely refuse to marry either of us, and rightly so.”

“We’d both be ruined.” Alfreda tore herself away and stomped toward the door. “For nothing!” She flung the door open and left.

It wasn’t for nothing. That was the problem. Restive mattered more than anything else—more, unsurprisingly, than her mother, perhaps even more than the stupid plot. Now, what was she to do about that?

~ * ~

He would be a ghastly husband, would he? Restive pondered from the alcove next to the retiring room. He gave the maid a shilling to keep her mouth shut and walked away.

How could Lucy think he’d be seduced by that foolish girl prancing about all but naked? Alfreda Wallace would be raped by the end of the night if she didn’t take care. It would be her own damned fault, but that didn’t make it right. He had to do something about it.

And...seemingly (for he didn’t for a moment believe all her information was second-hand), Lucy wasn’t a virgin. He couldn’t help wondering who had taken her girlish fancy—and then sorely disappointed her. Some clod who knew nothing about satisfying a woman, no doubt. Restive wasn’t such a fool.

Except that she loathed him. Wanted to make him sorry, and had already succeeded. But there must be a way to change her mind...

Which turned his thoughts to satisfying her like she deserved, as a first step toward convincing her of his good intentions. However, that didn’t seem likely anytime soon, and meanwhile, he had to unmask a traitor, scotch a plot, and now save an idiotic virgin from ruin.

Well. He knew who could take on the last of those tasks. Where had he last seen Yolanda?

~ * ~

Lucinda hurried back to the ballroom, dodging two male guests who tried to accost her. Mrs. Haraldson, drat her, had gone, but her husband was there in her stead. “My wife just left to dance with your suitor, Miss Belair. Would you do me the honor? They are about to begin.”

She went willingly, for Mr. Haraldson was somewhat elderly and not intoxicated. “Thank you, sir. I don’t care to be alone in such company. I wish I hadn’t come.”

“I wish you hadn’t, too, but I understand Pearce didn’t give you much choice.”

Startled, she asked, “Who told you that?”

“My wife, and no, I don’t know who told her. Lady Delworth, perhaps, in which case I hope she gave that nephew of hers a scold.”