Until now, she’d assumed Mama had taken all the family penchant for passion, leaving her a dry husk. Why this particular gentleman challenged that assumption was beyond her. He warmed her to an unconscionable degree.
She’d always thought if she ever met a man who roused her that way, she might consider seducing him, if only to determine whether she’d like the physical part of being a wife. Because if she didn’t, there wasn’t any reason to try marriage, assuming she could ever find a man who would brave the wagging tongues to marry her.
She’d even gone so far as to find out how a woman might protect against having children. She certainly didn’t want to find herself with child and forced to either give up her babe or live a secluded life abroad. Or, worse yet, become a woman like Filmore’s “fallen females.” That was not in her plan for the future. Fortunately, that very charity had some inhabitants more than happy to share what they knew about enjoying their “fallen” status without suffering long-term consequences. She’d told them she needed the information for a pamphlet she was writing. They hadn’t questioned that.
Thank heavens. And thank heavens, too, that Eliza had been kind enough to explain how sharing a man’s bed worked, solely because she didn’t want her sisters to be as ignorant as she had been on her wedding night.
“Are you sure Rosy can succeed in society if I hand her début over to you and your sisters?” he asked. “Can you really increase her confidence and get men to notice her?”
She tamped down her inappropriate reaction to the duke. “Certainly. There’s nothing wrong with your sister that a new look and some training won’t improve. The intimate dinner entertainment is key, a sort of practice social event, so to speak. That will keep her from feeling overwhelmed while also helping her make friends.”
“And you’ll be there. All of you, I mean. Your business concern.”
“We’ll be there beforehand, making sure Lady Rosabel’s attire and coiffure are perfect, and reinforcing her confidence where needed. We’ll already have set up a scheme of decoration that is subtle but memorable, with food that persuades your guests to stay late and get to know your sister. But we wouldn’t actually be guests.” Especially not given the scandal attached to their names, which she was oddly reluctant to warn him about. “Still, once the dinner begins, she can speak to us whenever she likes, because we’ll be behind the scenes in your town house, orchestrating the entire affair.”
“Ah,” he said. “She’ll find that reassuring.”
“Trust me, over time she’ll gain enough confidence to be comfortable in society. Her new wardrobe alone will ensure that. I will personally oversee the dressmaker to make certain all your sister’s gowns are designed exclusively for her. Once that’s taken care of and she’s had her presentation and her dinner, we’ll set up a series of events that, over the first two weeks, will increase in size and importance of guests. That way we can build her confidence gradually.”
“Not too gradually. She’ll need time afterward to acquire suitors.”
“Honestly, I don’t think it will take long. By the time we graduate to throwing a début ball for Lady Rosabel, she will be the toast of the ton. My sisters and I will do everything in our power to ensure that.”
He looked her over, as if sizing up an opponent in a boxing ring. “Now we come to the point. How much will all this cost?”
She wasn’t accustomed to having to offer an estimate. The people she dealt with were used to throwing their money at anything. But she wasn’t about to tell His Boorish Grace that.
Quickly, she jotted down some figures and what they were for. She included the Elegant Occasions fee and added up all the numbers. Then she leaned forward to hand him the paper.
He must not have taken the time to read over what every figure signified, for his gaze went immediately to the bottom and he said, “Bloody hell! That’s highway robbery!” He tossed the sheet down on the tea table between them. “I won’t pay it.”
A voice came from the doorway. “You most certainly will, Geoffrey Arthur Brookhouse!” His mother marched over and picked up the sheet. She glanced at it and gulped. Then she walked around the tea table to hand it to Diana. “He can afford it.” She glanced at her son. “For Rosy, he can.”
Fully expecting him to give his mother what for, she was surprised when he instead rubbed his temples and groaned. “It seems I am overruled, sentenced to being plagued by busybodies for the next few weeks.” Then he fixed Diana with a determined look. “I will pay for everything you listed . . . on one condition.”
“What is that?” Diana asked warily.
“You guarantee that all your work will lead to Rosy having several suitors.”
That baffled her. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Do you stand by your services?”
“Of course, but—”
“No shilly-shallying, Lady Diana. You either stand by them or you don’t.” He stared her down. “I’ll make it easy for you. I will pay the expenses of the début regardless. That’s only fair. I always demand that in my own contracts, and so should you. But whether I pay your fee will depend on whether your efforts result in suitors for Rosy.”
“Are you demanding any particular number of suitors?” she asked sarcastically as his mother watched the two of them with seeming interest.
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I should, shouldn’t I? I won’t even demand that you produce callers after her presentation and the ‘dinner entertainment.’ But after her début ball, I wish to see five callers a day for the first week.”
She wasn’t sure she could meet his expectation, but she was annoyed enough by his smugness just then to want to try. Five callers a day indeed. Hmph.
“If she gains that,” he went on, “I will not only pay your fee, I’ll double it.”
Double it! “And if she doesn’t gain five callers a day? What then?”
“We can negotiate a reduced fee, depending on the number of callers she actually has. But I warn you—if there are no callers, I will pay no fee.”