Prologue
Lady Georgina Halley burst through the drawing room doors. “Did you hear what that man did this time?”
Lucinda Barrett and Evelyn Ruddick exchanged glances that Georgiana could have read from a mile away. Of course they knew precisely whom she was discussing. How could they not, when he was the worst man in England?
“What now?” Lucinda asked, putting down the cards she’d been shuffling.
Shaking raindrops from the hem of her gown, Georgiana plunked herself into the third chair at the gaming table. “Elinor Blythem and her maid got caught in the rain this morning. They were walking home when that man drove by in his coach at full tilt and sent a cascade of street water straight at them.” She pulled off her gloves and slapped them onto the table. “It’s fortunate the rain had just begun, or he might have drowned her!”
“He didn’t even stop?” Evelyn poured her a hot cup of tea.
“And get wet himself? Heavens, no.” Georgiana dropped a lump of sugar into the tea and stirred vigorously. Men were so maddening! “If the morning had been dry, he would have stopped to let Elinor and her maid ride with him, but for most men, ‘nobility’ is not a state of mind or of station. It is a state of comfort.”
“A state of monetary comfort,” Lucinda amended. “Don’t spill.”
Evie refilled her own cup. “While you two are entirely too cynical, I have to agree that society seems to forgive arrogance when a gentleman has money and power. True nobility has all but vanished. In the days of King Arthur, inspiring a woman’s admiration was at least as important as the ability to slay a dragon.”
In Miss Ruddick’s optimistic imagination, nearly everything tied into tales of chivalry—but this time she had a point. “Yes, exactly,” Georgiana said. “When did the dragons become more important than the maidens?”
“Dragons guard treasure,” Lucinda said, jumping on the analogy, “which is why females with large dowries can rate almost as highly as dragons.”
“It should be we who are the treasures, dowries or not,” Georgiana insisted. “I think the difficulty is that we’re more complicated than wagering or horse races. Understanding a female is utterly beyond the capacity of most men.”
Lucinda bit into a chocolate tea cake. “I agree. It certainly takes more than a sword swinging in my direction to get my attention.” She chuckled.
“Lucinda!” Blushing bright red, Evie fanned her face. “For heaven’s sake!”
Georgiana sat forward. “No. Luce is right. A gentleman can’t win a female’s heart the same way he wins a…a boat race on the Thames. They need to know there are different rules involved. For instance, I wouldn’t want anything to do with a gentleman who makes a habit of breaking ladies’ hearts, no matter how handsome he was or how much wealth and power he had.”
“And a gentleman should realize that a lady has a mind of her own, for goodness sake.” Evelyn set down her teacup with a clatter as an exclamation point.
Lucinda stood and went to the desk at the other end of the room. “We should write these down,” she said, pulling several sheets of paper from a drawer and returning to distribute them. “The three of us wield a great deal of influence, particularly with the so-called gentlemen to whom these rules would apply.”
“And we would be doing other ladies a service,” Georgiana said, her anger ebbing as the plan began to take shape.
“But a list won’t do anything for anyone but ourselves.” Evelyn took the pencil Lucinda handed her. “If that.”
“Oh, yes it will—when we put our rules into practice,” Georgiana countered. “I propose that we each choose some man and teach him what he needs to know to properly impress a lady.”
“Yes, by God.” Lucinda thumped her hand on the table in agreement.
As she began writing, Georgiana chuckled darkly. “We could get our rules published. ‘Lessons in Love,’ by Three Ladies of Distinction.”
Georgiana’s List
Never break a lady’s heart
Always tell the truth, no matter what you think a lady wants to hear
Never make a wager over a lady’s affections
Flowers are nice; but make sure they’re the lady’s favorite kind. Lilies are especially lovely.
Chapter 1
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
