The other girl looked pleased. “I shall see that they don’t. This is my London season. Well, my first, anyway. I intend to make it epic.”
Verity nodded. She felt just the same. She wanted to grasp every chance for some adventure.
“And I’ve decided that Thomas Rochford shall be my project.”
“Your… What do you mean, project?”
“I’m going to make him fall in love with me. Only think what a triumph!”
“You want to marry him?” Verity asked.
Olivia laughed. “No, no. In due time I shall find an extremely amiable husband with tub loads of money who wants to spoil me utterly. I only want to…enslave Rochford.” Olivia nodded. “Yes, that’s the word. Enslave.” She seemed to taste it on her tongue.
Verity was fascinated by the idea. Olivia was full of thoughts that Verity had never had.
“Even Emily Cowper will envy me if I have Rochford languishing at my feet. I’ll be famous!”
“But how will you manage it?” Verity asked. “It’s difficult even to speak to him.” She frowned. “And he didn’t seem the sort of person to languish.”
“That’s why I need a good plan. And your help.”
“Mine?”
“Yes. I require a truly bold friend. Like you.”
“You think I’m bold?” Verity was flattered.
“Of course you are. Look at the way you rallied ’round when I stopped Rochford in the park. While Emma drooped as if she might faint. She’s far too timid.”
“But what do you expect me to do?”
“We shall see. I wanted to be certain you were on my side first.”
“Yes, but—”
“Splendid!” Olive leaned back with a pleased smile. “Is it true you’re to sing at Carleton House? At one of the prince’s receptions?”
“You heard about that?”
“It’s the latest on-dit. So it’s true?”
Verity nodded. “He… The invitation said it was a private party. Quite exclusive.”
“You’ll be famous,” Olivia crowed. “How lucky you are.”
“Do you think so?” Verity was happy to have her opinion confirmed. Everyone else had seemed to have doubts.
“Of course. Every girl coming out this season is trying to distinguish herself somehow. You hardly had to lift a finger.”
“It’s not quite that easy. We have to prepare a program of songs.”
“You and Lord Randolph Gresham.” Olivia’s eyebrows worked up and down. “So handsome. Hours alone bent over a steamy pianoforte?”
The phrase made Verity laugh. “Mama sits with us as we rehearse.”
“Oh, pooh. No chance even to steal a kiss?”
Even as Verity shook her head, the thought took hold of her. The scene ignited her imagination—the music ending, him bending near, the touch of his lips—and a bolt of heat shot from her cheeks…downward. Her breath caught. She wasn’t going to settle for a country clergyman, but surely she could flirt with one. He sang so beautifully. A stolen kiss was such a delicious idea.
“Aha!” said Olivia.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing in the world,” her friend replied with a wicked grin.
Verity pretended not to know what she meant.
“Speaking of kisses, I’ve just played the funniest joke,” Olivia added.
Her sparkling eyes and impish smile were infectious. “What?”
“I sent Miss Reynolds a huge bouquet.”
“The girl in the park?” asked Verity, puzzled. She’d thought Olivia disliked her. And why would she send another girl flowers?
“The same. And I put in a mooning note that hinted the flowers came from Charles Wrentham. If only I could be there when she reads it!”
Verity tried to work this out in her head. “But if she should speak to Mr. Wrentham…”
“I know,” crowed Olivia. “I wonder if I can arrange it? Somewhere I could watch.”
“He’ll tell her she’s mistaken.”
“And assume she’s hoping to entrap him, which she certainly is.”
“Won’t that would be rather humiliating for her?”
“Exactly,” replied Olivia with a nod. “And Miss Frances Reynolds will be taken down a peg, as she richly deserves. You may take my word for that.”
Since she didn’t know anything about Miss Reynolds, Verity had no other option. But even if Olivia was right, the bouquet seemed a mean trick.
When Verity and Olivia came downstairs a little later, they found a new caller in the drawing room. She looked familiar, and when Lady Hilda Stane was introduced, Verity realized why. Emma’s younger sister resembled her in many ways.
“We’re going up to my bedchamber,” said Beatrice, tugging the other girl’s arm. “And you are not invited.”
Olivia and her mother merely laughed.
* * *
Randolph was adjusting the angle of the drapery to exclude the sun when his mother entered the music room on Friday afternoon. “I thought I would sit with Mrs. Sinclair today,” she