“Camberly? I’ve not heard of him,” Leonie said.
“You wouldn’t have heard of the former duke. He was frightfully old,” Willa said.
Cassandra nodded. “Yes, and his sons died before him, leaving a grandson to inherit. A young, reputablyhandsomegrandson.”
“Have you met him?” Leonie asked.
“Few have,” Willa answered. “He is supposed to make his first appearance in Society tonight.”
“He is apoet.” Cassandra could not keep the excitement from her voice. She was a great fancier of the arts and dreamed of holding an important salonà la française. To that end, she’d held a few salons in her father’s front room. They had been small gatherings where every destitute poet in London tried to take advantage of her. Willa and Leonie faithfully attended as good friends should and they made up the majority of the crowd attending. Cassandra’s salons were not popular.
MP Holwell was there as well. He chaperoned with such disapproval on his face the poets never lingered in his daughter’s presence, although Cassandra had given her pin money to more than a few of them.
“Is the duke wealthy?” Leonie, ever practical, had to ask.
“He lacks sufficient funds,” Willa said.
“Which makes him an excellent quarry for our game,” Cassandra concluded. “He will want to know us. And he is aduke. Father has mentioned him several times to me. I’m surprised yours hasn’t,” she said to Leonie.
“Since Baynton, Father has not been pleased with me. He acts as if it is my fault the duke even had a paramour.”
“Then flirting with a new duke should please him,” Willa said. “My father is like Cassandra’s. All he can talk about is Camberly.”
“Well, then, Camberly, it is,” said Leonie. “One point for a glance—everyone is on their honor for this. Two points for an introduction.”
“That should be easy enough,” Cassandra said. “My father is already out and about on my behalf, as is Helen. I might win this game—”
“Win what game?” a female voice demanded.
Leonie, Willa, and Cassandra turned to face Lady Bettina Warwell, a slender redhead with an ambitious spirit. She was accompanied by a trio of young women. “What game are the Spinster Heiresses up to?” she laughingly said to her companions. “I wonder if it has anything to do with a certain new duke?”
Leonie hated the nickname the “Spinster Heiresses.” Someone had dubbed them with it last Season and it had quickly caught on. Leonie wasn’t so certain Lady Bettina hadn’t been behind the taunt. She certainly used it often enough—especially against Cassandra. For some reason, Bettina enjoyed making fun of her more than Willa and Leonie. Perhaps because they could hold their own better than Cassandra, who cared very much what people thought of her.
However, Leonie was not going to let her friends be mocked. Stepping forward, she said, “Good evening, my lady. Enjoying yoursecondSeason?” But she really wasn’t as good at delivering withering set downs as Lady Bettina and they both knew it.
Lady Bettina shrugged as if it was the nothing it was. “Tell me about your game. Perhaps we’d like to play.” Her friends nodded their heads.
For all the world, they would appear as a group of young women having a pleasant chat while waiting for the receiving line to end and the dancing to begin. No one else would feel the undercurrent of malice born out of jealousy. If Lady Bettina learned about the game, then she would spread the word throughout theton... unless she was a part of it.
Had Leonie thought this Season would be a bore?
She’d been wrong.
A delicious challenge formed in her mind. “Do you think it wise we speak here and so openly? Perhaps we should adjourn to the necessary room?” She referred to the room set aside for the women to have a moment of privacy.
With a nod to Cassandra and Willa, Leonie began walking in that direction. A few steps along, Cassandra grabbed Leonie’s arm. “Are you mad? She is the bitterest of souls and not to be trusted.”
“Is she following?” Leonie asked.
“Yes, they all are.”
“Then have faith in me,” Leonie answered. “This will be fun.”
Cassandra made a worried sound but both she and Willa marched right into the necessary room behind Leonie.
This early in the evening, the room was quiet. Leonie motioned Lady Bettina closer and said, “We have been plotting a wonderful game, a flirting game.”
“A flirting game?” Lady Bettina tilted her head with interest. Her friends were paying attention as well. They were all daughters of lesser nobles and, Leonie realized, just as desperately caught up in this chase to find a husband as the Heiresses were.
