Well, she had anyhow.
Ever since St. John was killed, Rhoda hadn’t flirted like she used to. Emily and Sophia speculated that it was because she was mourning, but now, what with the rumor and the bet, Emily wondered if Rhoda had perhaps given her virtue to the Marquess before he met with his demise. On the understanding that he would make her an offer, of course.
“How does one of these ignoble gentlemen win the bet?” Rhoda jerked Emily’s thoughts back to the conversation at hand.
This would be indelicate as well. Emily didn’t do well when it came to glossing matters over. “Amorous congress with the object of the bet. With you.”
Rhoda gasped, and her eyes went wide. As the dreadfulness set in, she slumped forward. “Men are bastards, Emily.” Her voice rasped as she spoke into her lap. Emily rubbed one hand along Rhoda’s back in a futile attempt to soften what she’d just said.
“But I have a plan for you.” Emily figured now would be as good a time as any to explain her scheme.
Rhoda turned her head and slid her a suspicious sideways glance. At least it appeared to be suspicious. It just as easily could be interested. Drat, these broken spectacles!
“Just hear me out.” She’d reveal all so that Rhoda could make an informed decision. “Blakely’s father has taken their quarrel to another level and blacklisted him everywhere in London. Blacklisted his very own son, if you can imagine that!”
Rhoda lifted her head and shrugged. News of this feud was nothing new.
“But Blakely isn’t going to go down without a fight! He certainly doesn’t wish to give his father the satisfaction of making him leave England again.” Of course, Emily only suspected this. “A perfect revenge for him is to marry somebody else. Defy his father’s wishes completely! And how perfectly delicious it would be for him to marry a lady already wrapped in scandal!”
Rhoda looked horrorstricken but Emily went right on talking.
“You! Rhoda! Yes, you! What could possibly be better than the two of you dashing up to Gretna Green over the next week or two to tie the knot! Solves your troubles and serves Blakely’s purposes as well! And not that I’m inclined in any way to harm any of our avian friends, but my plan kills two birds with one stone, rather nicely, might I add?”
“Blakely?” Rhoda shook her head in disbelief and then burst into laughter. “Blakely? He’ll never marry. He’s bamming you. I’d think you, of all people, would see past any foolishness to the contrary.”
Emily rose and pretended to be admiring the view from the window. Lord Blakely had indeed most assuredly asserted to all and asunder that he’d not marry as long as his father lived. He so hated the man.
But her plan exacted an even greater revenge. He simply needed to hear her out. “Well, um, he hasn’t exactly agreed to it yet, but he will. I didn’t wish to present the idea to him unless I knew you would be willing.” She lifted her thumb to her teeth and chewed on the nail. “I realize it’s quite a bit to take in right now, but you are in something of a muddle. I don’t want those immoral fellows saying things about you. This would quiet them up in a jiffy. What do you think?”
“Stop chewing your nails, Emily.” Rhoda’s voice gave nothing away. But then she hopped out of her chair and began rummaging around the room.
“Are you still looking for my spectacles?”
“I am not,” Rhoda announced firmly. “But I’ve come to a decision.” She seemed to be examining Emily’s dresses and then dismissing each of them in turn. “You may tell Lord Blakely I will consider such a stratagem, but you must do something in return for me.”
“Oh, yes! Rho! I’ll speak with him about it right away.” But wait, what? She must in turn do a favor for Rhoda?
“You need a husband as badly as I do, Emily, and you’ve had even less success than me.”
Emily knew this to be true, but… “I know. I know.” She squeezed her eyes together tightly and then tossed the broken spectacles onto the bed. “I just, I… I don’t know how!” Emily understood the finer points of mathematics, science, history, and philosophy and was better versed on the classics than most English professors. But when it came to attracting a gentleman, she’d proved herself to be an abject failure.
The thought of it lowered her spirits considerably.
“Sit down.” Rhoda steered her to the chair by the window. “And listen.” Rhoda rummaged around in the trunk and withdrew Emily’s escritoire. Without asking permission, she pulled out what Emily guessed to be some foolscap and a pencil and shoved them into Emily’s hands. “Take notes.”
Emily lifted the paper close to her face, pencil poised, and listened.
“Number one,” Rhoda dictated. “Sophia will select all of your gowns for the next fourteen days. You need to stop hiding behind the bland colors you’ve fallen into wearing. Number two, you will not wear your spectacles. You have gorgeous eyes when they aren’t magnified to twice their size. Number three, although you cannot see the various men, I shall point you in the direction of one of them and you shall gaze longingly toward the blur, or whatever it is you see. And listen to him. Ask him questions about his childhood, about his hobbies.” She exhaled loudly. “Talk about the weather, for God’s sake.”
This would never work.
“That’s all?” Emily asked. She’d do all of it except for the spectacles part. She couldn’t get by without them. There was no way on earth that she’d set them aside, despite what she’d told her mother last week. “Surely I’ll need to do more than that.”
“That’s all,” Rhoda said confidently. “Leave the rest to me. We’ll land you a husband first. And then…” She paused, as though for dramatic effect. “Only then will I run away with Blakely. If he’s willing, that is.”
Wonderful. Emily held one hand out. “Shake on it?”
Rhoda’s warm slim fingers wrapped around hers. “Shake on it.”
