The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,64
doesn’t change the fact that it’s thievery.”
“Fancy words categorically help.”
Pursing her lips, Isobel shook her head at her friend’s resolute face and stared down at the fancy cardstock, her fingers tracing over the edges. The idea of going back to the club was a titillating one, but there would be risks, unlike when she’d gone with Winter before. Still, a hum of excitement rose in her belly.
“What if Oliver wakes, feels recovered, and decides he wants to go?”
Clarissa grinned. “Then I shall use my imagination and distract him thoroughly. Don’t worry, dearest, I am never without a plan. And it’s always sisters before misters.” She patted Isobel’s shoulder when she didn’t smile back. “Trust me, from what I saw earlier, he’s not going to be in any shape to go out. You’re safe.”
“I don’t know about this, Clarissa. What if they know it isn’t mine?”
“They won’t.” Her friend bit her lip as though she had more to say, and then blew out a breath. “You have to go Isobel. I think that Italian woman is going to be there. Oliver told me that when they were at Vauxhall, she asked him about some special charity auction at The Silver Scythe. I think this might be it.”
“Why would Oliver tell you that?”
“Because I was digging for information on that hussy, what do you think?” She rolled her eyes skyward. “I asked him if her fiancé expected him to escort her anywhere else, and then promptly forbade him from doing so.”
Isobel blinked. “And you didn’t think to mention anything before?”
“You weren’t exactly in the best frame of mind after that outing, if you recall.” She shot her a wry look. Isobel had spent the entire next day in bed with chocolates and wine, being convinced by Clarissa and the twins of the benefits of not murdering her husband. “And honestly I didn’t even know he had an invitation.”
“It might not even be the same event.”
Clarissa sniffed, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Even if it wasn’t, put it this way…if that woman somehow managed to attend what is purported to be the most scandalous auction of the year at your husband’s club, and you were not there, consider how you would feel.” She waved the card like a precious trophy. “However, say there’s one invitation about to fall into the palms of your sticky little hands, are you going to use it? Or are you going to turn tail and cower, and let some other jade paddle in your pond?”
“Harsh, Clarissa.” Isobel winced at the choice of words, given that they were exactly what Winter had said about her hightailing it to Chelmsford.
Her best friend grinned. “I serve it cold.”
“Revenge?”
She smiled. “Truth.”
“So, you’re saying I should protect my pond?” she asked.
Clarissa nodded. “Yes, definitely protect the pond, and most of all, bring that man to heel. He deserves to know what he’s given up. Isn’t that why you came to London in the first place? Well, here’s your chance to win that wager and walk away with your head high.” She grinned. “And make some tea while you’re at it.”
“You’re obsessed with tea.”
“All women are, even if they won’t admit it,” Clarissa said sagely. “Tea meaning sex, obviously.”
Isobel stuck out her tongue. “I know what you mean.”
“So, do you want this invitation or shall I put it back where I found it?”
Isobel drew a deep breath and reached for the black rectangle. “Never let it be said that I am a quitter. I have a wager to win.”
Which was why exactly two hours later, Isobel found herself garbed in the very strange disguise of a female—albeit somewhat androgynous—highwayman. From the top of her wide-brimmed black hat, to the simple black cravat, ebony satin waistcoat, and raven superfine trousers and coat, to the tips of her polished boots, she exuded an air of mystery. Her blond hair was coiled into a knot at the base of her head, tucked into the hat, and her lips were painted a deep scarlet.
She stared critically at herself in the mirror. “I look like a walking riding crop.”
“You are bloody gorgeous, woman,” Clarissa said. “Mysterious. Sultry. The epitome of Lady Darcy.” She wiped a mock tear from her eye. “Our precious, dirty little darling out in the world. God, our sweet baby grew up so fast.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Isobel said with a giggle. “Are you certain you don’t want to change your mind and come with me?”
She shook her head. “The invitation doesn’t specify additional guests. We risk