The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,16
you return.”
“What do you have against books?” Molly yelled.
Isobel groaned, burying her head anew beneath the mound of pillows. “Must you all be so loud?”
“Of course we must.” Clarissa dragged the bedsheets to the side and then shoved open the curtains to the muted sunlight. She waved to an army of maids who bustled into the room. “You have an appointment with Madame Pinot for a fitting this afternoon.”
Violet let out a delighted shriek, which made Isobel cover her ears.
“She is very hard to get in to see,” Violet gushed, “but apparently, people move mountains for the Duke of Kendrick, and the chance to dress the mysteriously reclusive Marchioness of Roth, sister to the very outspoken, very contrary Duchess of Beswick.”
“Wonderful. I loathe fittings.”
“Liar.” Clarissa poked her in the side. “You love fashion.”
It was true. Isobel had always loved perusing the latest in women’s couture, even though Chelmsford offered little in terms of entertainment, besides the occasional social assembly. Now that she had the chance to choose and wear some of the newest trends, she should have been thrilled. Instead, she only felt uncertainty. The emotion must have showed on her face, because Clarissa sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed her arm.
“Think of the plan, sweeting. A woman’s style is part of her armory, and we must make sure yours is especially fitted for the occasion.” Clarissa leaned in, her voice a whisper for Isobel’s ears only. “Embody Lady Darcy. Make us proud.”
“Lady Darcy isn’t real,” Isobel whispered back.
She huffed with an aggrieved look. “Nonsense.”
“You’re taking this much too seriously, you realize,” Isobel said, sitting up and rubbing her head. The brandy she’d hunted down upon arrival at Vance House hadn’t helped much to put her to sleep but had left her with a throbbing headache.
Clarissa winked. “Take that back, wench. I’ll have you know I take sexual gratification very seriously.”
“Goodness, Clarissa, the servants!” Molly said, glancing at the nearest maid who had gone pink-cheeked.
Isobel, too, was sure her face bore the same color. It was a common occurrence in proximity to Clarissa, who lived to shock and titillate. Though Lady Darcy was an amalgamation of the two of them, the character’s predilection for the obscene came from Clarissa.
“Three years is a long time by anyone’s standards, Izzy,” Clarissa went on with a dismissive wave. “At least that’s what my brothers say. It can cause physical deformation for a man supposedly. In coloration, too.”
Isobel’s mouth dropped. “You are jesting.”
“I never jest about sexual organs.”
One of the maids made a choking noise.
“Clarissa!” both twins burst out.
Her eyes sparkled as she winked, waggling her eyebrows. “I happen to be an authority on the subject.”
“Who’s the liar now? You don’t know anything about…such things,” Isobel huffed. But once the twins started giggling, that was it—their laughter was infectious. Clarissa was innocent in body, but her mind was unconscionably filthy. And she clearly had no problem corrupting friends and maids alike. Likely another consequence of being a chronic eavesdropper with five older brothers. “Unempirical knowledge does not make one an expert.”
Clarissa waved a careless arm. “Be that as it may, we have a plan, and we must see through said plan. Seduce Lord Roth forthwith, and perhaps get Lady Roth up the pole, too.”
“You wish to get with child, Isobel?” Violet asked, wide-eyed.
She squashed the ugly ache that spiked in her breast. “One day if that’s in my future, but right now, my only goal is bringing the Maggot of Roth to heel.”
“Just show him a little leg and he’ll be humping it in a hurry,” Clarissa said with a grin. “Woof, woof.”
“You are truly dreadful.”
Trying not to snicker, Isobel allowed the scarlet-faced maid to tend to her. She knew she’d rue the day she’d confided in Clarissa about her plan, and she should have known from the subsequent scream of “Long live Lady Darcy!” but she couldn’t have done any of this without her best friend. Once Clarissa set her mind to something, she completed it without fail. Which meant by the end of the season, Winter Vance would be a man-shaped puddle at Isobel’s feet.
As far as becoming enceinte…well, as unlikely as it was to happen, a baby would not be unwelcomed.
At least, Kendrick would get the grandchild he hoped for.
…
The fitting at Madame Pinot’s was delightful. Isobel was impressed with the efficiency of the women who worked there, as well as the Frenchwoman’s boundless knowledge of all things fashion. Isobel was certain she’d left a considerable dent in