“Yes, flirting, which is what we are expected to do anyway. It keeps our skills sharp,” Leonie said easily. “We assign points to different actions—five points if he calls on you, three points for each dance. That sort of thing. Every participant offers five pounds, which Miss Reverly keeps as banker, and at the end of the Season the one with the most points is declared the winner.”
“This is rather immoral, isn’t it?” one of Lady Bettina’s friends said.
“In what way? The men do it,” Lady Bettina answered, surprising Leonie with her quick acceptance. “What do you think they write in the betting books at their clubs? They wager on us all the time.” She looked at Cassandra. “Are you doing this?”
Cassandra’s brows came together as if she wasn’t certain she could trust Lady Bettina but she nodded.
“It adds a bit of interest in the Season,” Willa said.
“But if anyone found out—” the girl who’d spoken up said, but Lady Bettina cut her off.
“Then they would think we were resourceful. Miss Charnock is correct. We must do these things anyway, why not have some sport with it. Five pounds, you say?”
Leonie nodded. “And the points only apply to one gentleman of our choosing. This Season the object of our affections will be the newly named Duke of Camberly.”
Lady Bettina’s eyes lit up at the name, as did her friends’.
Oh, this Season was going to be fun. “So, is the game on?” Leonie asked.
“Starting this evening?” Lady Bettina said.
“It must. Camberly will be making his appearance,” Leonie answered.
Lady Bettina held out her gloved hand. “Then let the game begin and may the best woman win.”
Leonie shook her hand, thinking she had seen her father do this over horse racing many a time. She rather liked this cool efficiency.
The door to the necessary room opened. A young matron with a velvet cap stuck her head in the room and then said in a furious whisper, “Bettina, Mother and I have been looking for you everywhere. Camberly has arrived. He is almost through the receiving line and the dancing will begin. You should be out here.”
“I’m coming,” Lady Bettina assured her, the light of competition in her eyes. She was out the door in a blink followed by her friends.
Willa looked at Leonie. “Well, now what?”
“Now we have a true competition going on.”
Cassandra shook her head. “She won’t play fair. I’ve known her most of my life and she cheats. She’ll do anything to win.”
“Perhaps we will as well,” Leonie said. “When I started this evening, I feared I wouldn’t make it through another Season... but now? You won’t claim victory so handily this time, Willa.”
“Men like dark haired women,” Willa countered good-naturedly. “That purse is mine.”
“Ormine.” Cassandra started for the door. “I won’t let Bettina win. I. Will. Not.” She opened the door.
“And we will help you,” Leonie promised as she went through. “In truth, it is us against them.”
“Of course it is,” Willa said thoughtfully. “Well played, Leonie. Bettina won’t say anything about overhearing us because she is a part of it. Her friends will be quiet because she is involved.”
“But she plays dirty,” Cassandra said. “I’m warning you.”
“Dear Cassandra, the voice of doom,” Leonie teased. “But don’t worry. The sticklers might be upset about our little game, but really, what harm is there? Very little. And they look down their noses at us as it is. If I had my way, I’d have every debutante participating. Think what a romp that would be.”
They had reached the ballroom. Everyone was crowded inside with no one lingering in the hall. Willa shot Leonie a look as if to say this was strange to her as well.
“Follow me,” Cassandra said, using her height and femininity to push her way into the room. They moved toward the front door when the crowd around them parted and Leonie had her first look at this new duke.
Camberly was young and tall and prodigiously handsome. Broad-shouldered, obviously athletic, and completely confident. It was there in the way he held his head and the ease in which he greeted those being introduced to him. And yet he did not give off an air of arrogance. His smile appeared sincere and had the power to charm even the most miserly of souls.
Such self-assurance was a powerful aphrodisiac.
