But for the rounder bottom than most men, Sophia perfectly resembled an elderly gentleman. Of course, Sophiahadthought to bring a walking stick. And a pipe. And how on earth had she managed to locate such a perfectly crafted beard and mustache?
Sophia grunted, not budging out of her character. “You two lads ready?” She flicked her gaze toward the doorway to White’s.
Rhoda’s stomach about dropped to her toes. A group of gregarious young gentlemen approached the club. They had the air of young lords about them. They looked quite similar to Rhoda and Cecily, in fact. Sophia would stand out simply in that she had taken on the disguise of an elderly gentleman.
“This way.” Cecily sidled along the walk with Sophia closely behind. Rhoda truly understood the meaning of the term cold feet at that moment, as hers seemed to have frozen to the ground.
“Dorwich!” Cecily’s scowl jolted Rhoda into motion.
“I’m coming, Warwick,” she responded in a deep voice. Oh, heavens, she sounded nothing at all like a gentleman. She hoped she wouldn’t be required to speak once inside.
With heads down, they casually fell into step with the lively group of lordlings. One of them even dropped his arm around Cecily’s shoulders. “Haven’t seen you in a long while, Huntly.”
It seemed Cecily would now be Huntly. Her new friend had obviously had a few too many drinks this morning. Perhaps he’d never quit the night before. Nonetheless, his manner and lack of ability to distinguish his old friend Huntly from Cecily worked rather well in their favor.
“It has indeed,” Cecily answered in her man voice.
“I want to up my wager today. My understanding is that Kensington is coming close. I’d hazard that’s what brings you around finally.” He stumbled slightly and seemed to be leaning heavily on poor Cecily.
The stench of his breath was strong enough to inebriate everyone within five feet of him.
Nobody questioned them when they stepped through the hallowed entrance.
The interior far surpassed the rather ordinary design of the outside of the building. Rhoda did her best not to gawk at the luxurious settees and grand tables. A gigantic fireplace took up one end of the room, and discreet waiters attended to the gentlemen guests. Rhoda wondered that nobody could hear her heart beating.
Even more so when a footman stepped forward to take their hats. She handed it over and quickly turned her back on the employee. If they were going to be caught, surely, now would be the time.
Being insignificant, in this situation, rather seemed to be something of a blessing. All attention was currently directed at Lord Kensington, who was drinking and boasting to another cluster of young gentlemen.
The one who’d latched onto Huntly, aka Cecily, wasn’t all that interested in the joviality surrounding Flavion. Instead, he proved to be of further assistance by leading them straight to the betting book.
“Got to get this down before it’s all over,” he explained with a wink in Cecily’s direction.
Fool.
Rhoda peered over his shoulder and watched the idiot add another thousand to his wager upon Lord Kensington. Sure enough, the wager on her was deserving of a leather-bound book all its own.
Another employee hovered nearby but recognized their newfound friend and didn’t question him as he made his notation in the book.
Cecily and Sophia moved toward a billiard table and Rhoda took some tentative steps backward in hopes of disappearing into the wall tapestry.
The employee, the one watching over the betting books, moved away from the book, on alert as another gentleman had approached Flavion.
Justin!
This was her perfect opportunity.
No one was watching the book, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away from her vicar-turned-earl. He appeared determined and solid as he faced the man who’d caused so much havoc for Cecily and now, her.
Whereas Lord Kensington’s complexion was powdery and pale, Justin glowed healthily. His thick head of golden hair standing tall above the rest. His shoulders seemed broader and the energy of his character crackled in the air.
“Stand down, Kensington. You think it noble to besmirch the reputation of an innocent young woman, a genteel lady?” His voice broached no argument, but Lord Kensington had never recognized the wisdom of walking away from one so determined.
A movement behind Justin revealed Prescott standing at her fiancé’s back.
“You’ve been cossetted in your little church for too long. If you hadn’t, you’d know for certain that Miss Mossant is no innocent.” A ripple of guffaws ran through Kensington’s entourage of hangers-on.
Rhoda glanced to her left. The book sat unattended just a few feet away. Now was her chance. And yet she was frozen in place, unable to tear her gaze away from the spectacle across the room.
