The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,17

Kendrick’s accounts, but the duke had insisted that she avail herself of his credit. For Clarissa, too.

Oliver would blow an artery once he was informed of their purchases. He was stingy to a fault and hated his older brother Winter’s spendthrift ways. The thought of aggravating his stuffy, stuck-up self, made Isobel nearly chortle with unabashed delight. Oliver resented Winter with a passion, which had somehow extended to Isobel simply by default of being his wife. As a result, he was insufferably rude, treating her with the barest modicum of respect, and that was only in front of his father.

It was, perhaps, the only thing she and her husband had in common.

“Why are you smiling like the cat who ate all the cream?” Clarissa asked as they sat in the carriage surrounded by a mountain of parcels. “You know the rules…share the cream.”

“I’m thinking of Oliver’s face when he sees those bills.”

A wolfish look spread across Clarissa’s face. “Damnation, but I should have commissioned a dozen more gowns.” Her grin widened. “Shall we come up with a plan to spend more of the duke’s money, then? Shoes, hats, gloves, even new jewelry, perhaps?”

“Clarissa, you are diabolical.”

She canted her head in receipt of the compliment. “I try.” She paused. “So, are you finally going to tell me what was it like seeing your marquess now that the twins aren’t around?”

Isobel gulped, a dozen thoughts translating to her lips and resulting in only one. “He’s an ass.”

“Naturally.” Clarissa smirked. “But is he still handsome as the devil?”

“Yes.” Isobel didn’t bother lying to her best friend. She could always see right through her anyway.

“I bet Oliver’s peeved because Winter got all the good looks in the family,” she said with a laugh.

Isobel shot her a glance. “Oliver’s not ugly.”

While he favored his mother’s side with his rounder face and blond hair, there was still some resemblance between the brothers. If he wasn’t such a condescending prig at heart, he’d actually be handsome.

“Yes, well he’s a cad.” Clarissa glowered at her. “Stop trying to redirect the conversation. I want to hear about what it was like to see dear Winter after all this time. Especially considering he’s one of Lady Darcy’s deepest, darkest fantasies. Well, at least the Izzy half.”

Isobel went hot. “He is not!”

“Let’s agree to disagree. Now spill it.”

In a bland tone, Isobel recounted the details of her visit, watching Clarissa’s eyes get wider and wider.

“Your eyeballs are going to roll out of their sockets,” Isobel warned.

Clarissa gaped. “I cannot believe you actually went to 15 Audley Street.”

“Why?”

“Derrick says it is a den of depravity. And Derrick is the seediest of all my brothers. Trust me, I’ve overheard him tell stories of the parties at that place. How do you think Lady Darcy gets some of her more creative explanations?”

Face aflame, Isobel made a gagging noise. “I don’t want to know about Derrick’s sex life.”

Clarissa’s nose wrinkled as her green eyes turned speculative. “Derrick did mention a week ago that it was strange that the marquess was never around.” She frowned. “Don’t you think that’s odd? I mean what if Roth is no longer the rakehell everyone thinks he is?”

Wait, what? Isobel’s heart stuttered in her chest at her friend’s complete turnabout. Had she forgotten that he just fought a blasted duel? Isobel’s irritation sizzled back to the surface. “What about Contessa James, then? He doesn’t want to be married, Clarissa. He’s made that more than clear. He left me alone in Chelmsford for three years. A leopard doesn’t change its spots, no matter how much one might wish it to. Roth is a complete mutton monger!”

Clarissa’s lips twitched at the inventive insult that the man was addicted to wenching, but she shrugged. “People can change.”

“I think too much shopping has addled your mind.”

…

They didn’t speak the entire way back to Vance House. Isobel was fuming. Coming to London with a plan to take down her husband was a far cry from allowing herself to believe he had been miraculously cured of being a complete scoundrel. Yes, his sister’s death was tragic, but that didn’t change who he was. It was after Prudence’s death that the rotter had chosen to leave her and abandon her.

Winter Vance deserved what was coming to him.

She glanced over at Clarissa, whose face was openly remorseful. Isobel sighed. She could never remain angry with her friend for long. The carriage rolled to a stop, and just as Isobel opened her mouth to apologize, the door was pulled