“Yes?”
“Well, the chamber Rachel and I shared was adjacent to Lady Starling’s. You know, the spectacular-looking widow with the auburn hair and the giant…” Delia gestured to her chest.
Indeed, Bethany knew who Lady Starling was. “What does she have to do with any of this?”
“We could hear her.Her and Lord Chaswick.” Delia blushed red as a tomato. “Doing…things.”
Bethany ought to have known. She didn’t even bother to attempt to catalog all the emotions that Delia’s words churned up.
And then she did. Jealousy. Anger. Resignation.
Curiosity.
How ill-fated was it that the gentleman she’d most unfortunately fallen in love with was also an itinerate rake?
“Are you certain it was him?”
Delia glanced around and then, closing her eyes, clasped her hands beneath her chin and gasped in a breathy tone, “Chase. Oh, Chase! Yes! Yes, Chaswick!” And then, modulating her voice to sound baritone, “Miranda, God. Miranda!”
Bethany reached out a hand and covered Delia’s mouth. It was… disturbing in more ways than one.
Was she really jealous of Lady Starling? A little. Yes. But she’d overheard her brother and his friends discussing far too many assignations such as this to take them seriously. The ladies were willing, and although perhaps hopeful the gentlemen would declare their undying love, well aware that they usually didn’t.
Hadn’t. Ever.
In addition to that, these temporary affairs seemed to be something wealthy bachelors simply… did.
Sexual congress, she’d come to rationalize, was something of a sport to them. Rather like hunting, gambling, or… whatever else they got up to.
She was oh so very proud that her brother had actually fallen in love with a delightful woman and married her. Seeing Westerley pledge himself to his soul mate provided Bethany with the tiniest seedling’s worth of hope. Which was foolish of her, she knew, and would most certainly only lead to further disillusionment.
“Anyway,” Delia continued. “Rachel has orchestrated a missive to be sent to Lord Chaswick. The sender requests him to meet her behind the folly in the garden at midnight. She signed Lady Starling’s name.”
It was barely a quarter past eleven. She had plenty of time.
This wasn’t so very bad, now was it?
Delia added, “And she’s arranged for her mother, her mother’s companion, and likely other ladies to show up at the same time. In fact, she’s come up with the perfect ruse. She’s going to spread word that—”
“But Lady Starling is not in attendance this evening.” Bethany’s mother had mentioned the young widow was going to be in Brighton with her late husband’s family this Season.
“Of course she isn’t.Rachelis going to meet him. The area behind the folly isn’t illuminated, and my sister intends to allow Lord Chaswick to think she is Lady Starling and do… Well, I’m certain you can easily imagine her intentions… When the sticklers arrive, torches in hand, they’ll catch Lord Chaswick ravishing Rachel, doing those things with her that he thinks he would only do with Lady Starling.”
“Won’t he notice that she’s the wrong woman when he kisses her and when he…?” Bethany vaguely indicated her own breasts, which although more generous than most, still weren’t nearly as substantial as Lady Starling’s.
Furthermore, one might say perhaps that the good Lord had been er… rather… stingy… where Miss Rachel Somerset’s bosoms were concerned.
Delia shrugged. “Apparently, timing is crucial but Rachel doesn’t seem overly concerned. She’s enlisted Coleus and a few other girls.”
“Behind the folly, you say?” The quadrille had just come to an end and although there was time to spare, Bethany needed to act quickly as she wasn’t as familiar with the Willoughby gardens as she’d like to be. If she was going to lose Chase to anyone, she certainly didn’t want to lose him to Rachel Somerset.
“By the wooden bench. It’s ideal really, secluded and dark.”
“I think I know where that is. Probably best for me to simply warn him.” Bethany burst to her feet. “Do what you can to stall your sister. Don’t tell her that I know but make something up that will keep her from going outside.”
“What should I tell her?”
Bethany searched her brain. “Tell her you’ve a headache and you wish to go home.”
