ound her family fortunes…
Well, Kitty thought convincing society she was the fiancée of a man she had never met was the solution.
In their world, success depended on who one knew, how powerful and prestigious those connections were. Vouchers for Almacks, invitations to balls, the opera, and the theater were all provided on the strength of how well known in society one was. And Kitty desperately needed that power to secure suitable matches for her sisters.
She couldn’t abide the notion of her three darling sisters—Anna, Henrietta, and Judith—withering away as Kitty had done because of their poor connections and nonexistent wealth.
The patronage of a duke would undoubtedly open the most eminent doors to her family. Their desperate plight had already seen Anna working as a lady’s companion and having to fend off the unwanted advances of a lecherous scoundrel. The country cottage they had been relegated to after Papa’s heir had claimed his estate was in dire need of repairs. Mama’s widow’s portion allowed only for the hiring of a cook and the barest appearance of gentility—and Kitty, being the eldest, was expected to secure a well-connected match.
Kitty stood, smoothing away the imaginary wrinkles of her rose-colored gown. Tonight, she had worn her most elegant dress, and not one gentleman had been kind enough to ask her to dance. There were too many more ladies with appealing dowries in attendance at Countess Musgrove’s ball. “It is time for us to do more than wait for someone to gain the courage and ask to court us. Not when we are so inferior in our connections and ranks.”
Her friends’ curious eyes rested on Kitty’s face, capturing every nuance of her expression, perhaps analyzing the fierce determination in her tone.
“We can no longer afford to fade into the ballroom walls. We need to be more than wallflowers.”
Thank heavens. This meeting had revealed itself to be a validation of her prayers. Kitty had honestly thought she’d have to hide the wicked leanings in her heart, the only solution she had envisioned for getting out of the genteel poverty in which she, her three younger sisters, and her mother lived.
Miss Emma Prendergast wrinkled her nose, her dark gray eyes unusually somber, quite at odds with her cheerful mannerisms and humorous charm. “I am three and twenty and have had four seasons because of the generosity of my godmother. I have never been thought of as more than a wallflower,” she said wistfully, the ache for more evident on her face.
“We have been biddable and dutiful daughters and sisters. And that has gotten us nowhere,” Maryann continued.
Everyone stood, and the excitement that filled the air was electric. “We must commit to pool our resources together and help one another to be more. We have never…none of us, ever been sinful, have we?”
Wicked…sinful…and not at all proper.
Those murmurs slipped from her friends’ lips, and a breathless, tense silence blanketed the private parlor.
After that, everything became a blur as Kitty and her friends laughed and plotted. How delightfully improper it all was, and she ardently prayed they would have the courage to act upon their hearts’ desires and not falter.
Sometime later, her friends dispersed back into the ballroom, anticipating that perhaps tonight would be the night their fortunes started to change. Tonight, they would all start being wicked…and bold.
Kitty turned to face Maryann, her dearest friend. “You never mentioned when we rode in the park earlier that we would have such a rousing conversation.”
Maryann smiled, the prettiness of her features rendered beautiful with that curve of her lips. If only the beaux of society could see beyond the spectacles perched atop her elegant nose and her intelligent humor. It did not bode well for the young bucks of the ton if they were not attracted to her wit and vivacity.
“Papa has accepted an offer from Lord Stamford. He informed me this morning, and I cannot bear the notion.”
Kitty gasped and hurried to her friend, clasping her hands between her own. “Say it isn’t so! Why, he is older than your papa!”
Maryann’s eyes twinkled with surprising humor. “I know…but I have a plan.”
Kitty stilled. “A wicked one?”
“Oh, Kitty, a most diabolically wicked plan, and it involves Nicolas Ives.”
Shock tore through her. “The earl everyone calls London’s most notorious scoundrel for his unforgivable debaucheries?”
Some undefinable emotion pierced Maryann’s eyes before she lowered her lids. “The very one,” she murmured, a flush coloring her cheeks.
Kitty stepped back, picked up her reticule, opened it, and withdrew a clipping of a newspaper article. She cleared her throat nervously. “I have a plan, too.”
The wicked notion was so audacious, so scandalous, she hadn’t the heart to put it into words until now. “One I am mad and reckless to even think of. I prayed, Maryann… I prayed for days, wondering if I am on the right path, and then tonight you confirmed everything I have been thinking. There is more to life, isn’t there? And we cannot let society, our fathers, or our brothers decide it all for us.”
Maryann hurried to the door and turned the lock, ensuring no one could come upon them. “What mad plans do you have?”
Kitty thrust the paper at her. “I believe I’ve found a solution to my family’s problems.”
Pushing her glasses atop her nose, her friend scanned the gossip sheet. “What is it?”