The Unthinkable Read online

  Cecelia’s face darkened. “Rakes. Rakes. Rakes. If I hear that word one more time, I swear I’ll—”

  “Don’t swear, darling,” Gina chided. Turning to Claire, she whispered, “She’s still not over ‘The Incident.’”

  Cecelia bristled. Her chin lifted haughtily. “I don’t know to what you are referring, Lady Georgina.”

  “I think she’s referring to the Duke of Beaufort, dearest,” Claire said helpfully.

  Gina giggled. Cecelia looked as if she could strangle her sister.

  “Come now, Cecelia,” Gina said soothingly. “That was last year. You still cannot be—”

  “Don’t you dare lecture me, Gina. You were not made the laughingstock of the season.”

  “I’d hardly call you the laughingstock of the season,” Claire said. “There was that other incident when Lady Penelope tripped down the stairs and landed at Prinny’s feet with her skirts bunched around her ears and her bottom wide for everyone to see.” She wrinkled her nose. “Or should I say her wide bottom for everyone to see?”

  Cecelia threw her sister a venomous glare. “You aren’t helping, Claire. Beaufort made a fool of me and I’ll never forget it.”

  The vehemence in Cecelia’s tone stopped Gina’s teasing cold. She sobered. The Incident had obviously affected Cecelia much more than Gina had realized. Cecelia’s pride had taken a vicious beating. As the reigning beauty, and an heiress to boot, Cecelia was not used to men who did not drop at her feet in besotted supplication.

  The Duke of Beaufort—the leader of the Hellfire Rakes club and a man renowned for his exquisite taste—had taken her down a peg or two when he’d declared within perfect earshot of many a young buck, “Attractive enough if you like a chit right out of the schoolroom.” But far worse was when he looked at his sensuous, well-endowed paramour in pointed comparison. He’d turned his quizzing glass on Cecelia’s more modest bosom. “I confess I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” It was obvious that this arbiter of beauty found Cecelia’s willowy figure sadly lacking.

  “I’m sure everyone has forgotten,” Gina offered optimistically, while knowing that it was unlikely. Not when the duke never missed an opportunity to remind the ton of his unique opinion of Lady Cecelia Leveson-Gower, cherished daughter of the Marquess of Stafford. Gina took Cecelia’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know you were badly maligned, but it’s nothing compared to what happened to dear Alice.”

  Cecelia’s face lost some of its angry color. “You’re right, of course. Poor Alice, caught in the wicked embrace of a notorious rake.” Her voice turned suddenly impassioned. “Don’t you ever get tired of the different standards? Why is certain conduct wrong for a lady, but not for a gentleman? There were two people caught in scandalous dishabille in Lady Wallingford’s garden.”

  Even the normally forward-thinking Gina was shocked by the suggestion that the same standard might apply to men and women. The differences between what was permissible between girls and boys had been ingrained in her since childhood. Since the first time Gina was punished for tearing her dress climbing a tree and her male playmate was praised for his athleticism—though he hadn’t climbed nearly as high as she had, she recalled smugly. On some level Gina had recognized the unfairness, but simply accepted it as a fact of life. Cecelia never accepted anything.

  What Cecelia suggested was veritable societal heresy. But thought-provoking nonetheless. Not that she’d encourage Cecelia by admitting it. “Nonsense,” Gina chided. “Don’t be ridiculous. There are many benefits to being a young lady.”

  “Like what?” Cecelia challenged. “A young man can hunt, gamble, sport, drink, meander at will from club to club, keep a mistress or two. What can we do?”

  “Ladies take pride in their many accomplishments. We sew, play music, paint, sing—”

  “I’m sorry to disagree, dearest,” Claire interrupted. “But I think Cecelia has the right of it. Having a paramour sounds infinitely more exciting than playing the pianoforte.”

  “Why shouldn’t we have a bit of fun?” Cecelia prompted.

  Gina immediately grew wary. She knew her friend too well. “What kind of fun?”

  “I don’t know.” Cecelia thought a minute before her frown lifted into a naughty grin. “We could play a little game.”

  Claire clapped her hands. “Oh, I love games.”

  “Let’s hear the rules first, Claire,” Gina cautioned.

  “I think it’s high time that Beaufort and his Hellfire cohorts get their due.” Cecelia drummed her fingers on the top of the mahogany sideboard. When the tapping stopped and she saw the expression on Cecelia’s face, Gina braced herself for what was coming next. “What’s the worst thing that could happen to a rake?” Cecelia asked.

  “Hmm. He could pass out on the road from too much drink and get run over by a carriage?” Claire posited.

  “Or lose his estate in a hand of cards?” Gina suggested, but she could guess where Cecelia was headed.

  Cecelia shook her head. “Worse. Much worse. He must fall in love. Become utterly and thoroughly besotted. We shall choose three of the most notorious rakes and see if we can bring them up to snuff.”

  “I may be nearing the shelf, but I could never marry—” Gina started.

  “Of course we won’t accept. The challenge is simply in procuring the proposal. Since we can’t record it at White’s we’ll have to make our own betting book, with a wager befitting the importance of the challenge.”

  “But what if they find out?” Claire said.

  “Leave it to me,” Cecelia dismissed with a wave of her hand. “No man will know what we are about.”

  “It’s not only the men I’m worried about.”

  Cecelia turned to her sister and frowned. “Stop worrying, Claire. You sound like Gina. We’ll keep it a secret.”

  “Why?” Gina asked suspiciously. “Why should we do something so… mean-spirited?”

  Cecelia’s eyes fired. “Mean-spirited?” She huffed. “Hardly. It’s nothing compared to the sport these rakes make of us on a daily basis. I’m tired of hearing about the goings-on of the Hellfire Rakes. Think of it as a bit of feminine justice. We’ll do it for all womankind.”

  Gina laughed. “That’s a bit much, wouldn’t you say?” Though she could not deny that there was a certain primitive justice in what Cecelia proposed.

  Cecelia shrugged. “You want justice for Alice, don’t you?”

  “Certainly.” But Gina hesitated. A tiny disloyal part of her wondered whether Alice hadn’t gotten precisely what she’d bargained for. Coventry did not hide his character, if anything, he flaunted it. Involvement with Lord Coventry was a dangerous proposition.

  Gina recalled the first time she’d seen the Earl of Coventry at the theater early in her first season. His dark, fallen-angel looks had sent her girlish heart racing in a fierce patter. Tall and broad-shouldered with dark, wavy hair, his features, even from a distance, were strong and classically handsome.

  One look at his companion, however, was enough to erase any romantic notions she might have had about him. The bright-colored gown, the shocking décolletage, the heavy paint. The man escorted his paramour as openly as if she were the queen. Discreet inquiries had confirmed her first impression. Except when the gossip surrounding his wild escapades demanded her attention, Gina had barely given him another thought.

  Even if Coventry had seduced Alice, she had to know the type of man he was. Even Claire knew the type of man Lord Coventry was. Gina shook off the disloyal thoughts. Alice had been wronged. “I don’t know if this is the best way—”

  “What other way can you think of? There’s a certain poetic justice in beating a rake at his own game, don’t you agree? These are men who play fast and loose with a woman’s virtue without thought. Well, we shall give them something to think about the next time they are tempted to ruin a young lady.” She turned to her sister. “Claire will do it, won’t you Claire?” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer, knowing full we