Ruthless - By Anne Stuart Page 0,77

“Except that he’s so damn stuffy,” she said.

Lydia exploded with laughter. “Your language, Nell!”

“I haven’t got Nanny Maude to keep me in line anymore. You know I spent too much time in the stable when I was young. Don’t marry Etienne, Lydia. Tell him no, in the most gentle of ways.”

Lydia looked at her. “Are you certain? What else shall we do? I hadn’t thought it through clearly. We seem to be out of resources and possibilities.”

“You forget, there’s Cousin Marcus. I have yet to find out what our small bequest is, but with luck it’s enough to keep the two of us and Jacobs. If not, our cousin might be disposed to be charitable.”

“Dearest,” Lydia said, “you know as well as I do that the bequest is for you, that the cousin is yours.”

“Dearest,” Elinor responded fondly, “you know as well as I do that everything I have is yours.”

“I could still marry Etienne. I think he’d have me.”

“Have you?” Elinor scoffed. “The man would be lucky to kiss the hem of your garment. In truth, I don’t want you to marry Etienne. His lectures would drive me mad. I expect we can rely on Cousin Marcus. Otherwise…” She failed to think of any way to complete the sentence.

“Otherwise we’ll become adventuresses!” Lydia said. “Why not? We have no reputations to lose. We’ll travel Europe and be very mysterious and very gay, and men will adore us and women will want to be like us. We’ll dress in the finest clothes and be very witty. I think we should go to Venice first.”

Elinor blinked. “And how are we to support this new life?”

“We’ll have to find protectors, of course,” Lydia said brightly. “Wealthy men in need of a mistress. We’ll pick and choose, of course. Only the most handsome and most amiable of men should be allowed anywhere near our bedrooms. They’ll give us fabulous jewels, which we can sell off when times are difficult. Don’t you think it would be glorious?”

“Glorious,” Elinor echoed. “And totally impractical. I’d have you married to Etienne before you became a courtesan, no matter how stuffy he is.”

Some of the wicked light left Lydia’s eyes. “You’re right, of course. And a few months of passion is no fit trade for a lifetime of safety and sobriety.”

She could blame the shocks of the last few days and her own exhaustion for not having put things together before. Lydia’s fanciful idea hadn’t been plucked from thin air. It took Elinor but a moment.

“You’re in love with Mr. Reading.”

Most people would have believed Lydia’s light, silvery laugh. Elinor was not most people. “How absurd, Nell! I barely know the man, and while there is no denying he’s very handsome he’s far from agreeable and not very flattering, and he’s hardly the type of husband one could look for.”

“Hardly,” Elinor echoed, remembering him from her night at the château. “He would, however, make a fitting partner for an adventuress. For a month or so.”

Lydia’s smile still didn’t read truthful. “Don’t worry, Nell. You said you had another plan as well as applying to your cousin. What is it?”

Her stomach dropped, but she managed a cheery smile. “Let us see if I can get in touch with Lord Tolliver first,” she said. “He was most amiable when I met with him, and I would think he would be the answer. If I could convince him to give us a small cottage on one of the estates, perhaps a tiny stipend that we could augment with pianoforte lessons. And you’d be bound to marry, and there’d be no financial incentive to force you into making the wrong choice.”

“And he said he’d offer you this cottage?” Lydia asked, looking skeptical.

“We didn’t get that far…Mama—” oddly enough her voice seemed to have developed a catch “—had one of her fits, and he left. But I have no doubt he’ll hear of our misfortunes and be more than happy to provide assistance. He would have no reason not to help us, and he would dislike the disapproval of society if he abandoned us.”

“If you say so,” Lydia said, looking unconvinced. “What shall we do in the meantime?”

“In the meantime I shall speak to my Lord Rohan about sending a message to my cousin. I despise having to rely on Rohan’s charity, but I cannot decide which would be worse, sleeping in his house or taking money to sleep elsewhere.”

Lydia looked around her. “If this is hell, it’s quite cozy,” she said. “Where

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