to the altar.
Chapter 9
Fiona strode eagerly into the drawing room where the butler said Cassandra was waiting for her. Before Fiona could greet her, Cassandra waved for Fiona to join her on the settee.
“I have news,” she said with a rather dire tone.
“Has your father betrothed you to someone?” Fiona asked with deep concern.
Cassandra’s animated expression arrested. She stared at Fiona a moment, then blinked. “Whyever would you think that?”
“You just sounded so serious, and now you’ve lines etched into your forehead.”
Laughing, Cassandra massaged her brow. “Better?” At Fiona’s nod, she returned her hand to her lap. “Lucien told me our aunt is not getting an invitation to the Phoenix Club.”
Disappointment blazed in Fiona’s chest. “Why not?”
“Apparently the membership committee was not in favor.” Cassandra exhaled. “It’s no use being upset about it. I begged him to try again, but he said the committee’s vote is final—and I’m not even supposed to know there was a vote. If I tell anyone, he said he’ll send me to a nunnery.”
“Then I suppose I’d best not tell anyone either.”
“That would be most appreciated,” Cassandra said drily.
Frowning, Fiona leaned back against the settee and stared straight ahead as if she could divine answers from the air. “I wonder why they voted against her.”
“Because she can be haughty and insincere and just…irritating.” Cassandra also leaned back. “Still, I’d hoped they would overlook her shortcomings since she’s Lucien’s aunt. What we have learned, however, is that Lucien doesn’t have as much power as I’d thought, despite being the owner.”
“That makes no sense,” Fiona said. “Unless he isn’t the only owner.”
Cassandra sucked in a breath and turned to face Fiona. “I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps we could find out if there’s a secret, silent co-owner and use that information to extort invitations to the assemblies.”
Fiona inhaled sharply, echoing Cassandra, her eyes widening as she pivoted on the settee. “You wouldn’t do that to your own brother.”
“Of course not. Unfortunately, my mind tends to come up with rather devious plans. I do try very hard not to launch any of them. Only when needs are critical.” She paused and looked Fiona in the eye. “I would say our needs are now critical.”
Feeling slightly puzzled, Fiona asked, “What needs are those exactly?”
“How we’ll obtain a sponsor so we may go to the assemblies.”
Right. “I did ask Overton why he couldn’t just sponsor me, and why your brother couldn’t sponsor you. They’re members, and we’re family. Well, you’re family, and I’m sort of like family.”
“Brilliant. What did he say to that?”
“He indicated he’d speak with Lord Lucien. Did your brother say nothing to you?”
“No, and he just called late this morning. Perhaps the membership committee wasn’t in favor of that either.”
“Are they in charge of all the rules in addition to membership?”
Cassandra wiped her hand across her forehead but didn’t rub it this time. “I have no idea. I am beginning to lose hope that we’ll attend an assembly. I would wonder if my father wasn’t behind this, except Lucien typically ignores Papa’s edicts. On the other hand, when it comes to me, Lucien doesn’t push too hard. Damn, I really wanted to see that bacchanalia painting.”
“And I want to see the Circe one,” Fiona murmured.
“When we first met, you suggested that we steal inside,” Cassandra said slowly, as if she were testing to see how it sounded out loud.
“I was jesting.” Had she been? “Sort of.”
“I think I may have a plan.” Excitement sparked in her gaze.
Fiona was simultaneously thrilled and hesitant. “Didn’t you just say your plans are devious?”
“I also said I only launch them when absolutely necessary.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We’ll dress up as gentlemen and steal into the men’s side of the club.”
Fiona gaped at her. “What?”
“That’s an awful idea.” Prudence stood just inside the doorway with a tray of cakes and lemonade.
“Why are you bringing refreshments?” Fiona was still confused by the hierarchy of households. Prudence was not a servant and yet she did things that were similar to a servant.
“Because I was hungry and thought you might be too.” She set the tray on a table near the windows that overlooked Brook Street. “Also, I didn’t want to trouble anyone,” she murmured.
Fiona understood that sentiment. If she wanted something late at night, she never rang for assistance. Indeed, she had trouble ringing for assistance at any time. The fact that she had a maid dedicated to helping her dress and taking care of her things seemed utterly excessive. However, Fiona completely understood—and appreciated—her maid’s expert