Joy’s Willful Wager (Seven Unsuitable Sisters #4)
Chapter One
Lady Atterley’s May Day Ball
London, England
Lady Joy Abarough, one of the Duke of Broadmere’s many sisters, the fifth of seven to be exact, glumly stared at the ballroom that positively frothed with fresh-cut flowers and pastel shades of yellow, pink, and green ribbons woven through an astonishing tangle of light-blue tulle that was draped, bunched, and wrapped around every possible surface.
She was bored to tears, and a dismal sigh escaped her.
She normally enjoyed Lady Atterley’s gatherings because the grande dame always provided areas for gaming—exciting games of whist, commerce, piquet, hazard, faro, and so much more laid out in several rooms. One had but to choose the game one wished to employ as a means of emptying the purses of the arrogant lordlings who thought themselves so much smarter than a mere woman.
“I cannot believe your mother chose not to provide any gaming rooms,” she whispered to Lady Frederica Atterley—Freddie to her closest confidantes.
Freddie sighed. “I fear that is my fault. She thinks it easier for me to choose a husband if she keeps them all in the same room and doesn’t allow them or me the distractions of the games.”
“At least your brother isn’t constantly lobbing marriageable bachelors your way,” Joy said. At the sight of Lord Pellington, better known as the malodorous Lord Smellington, she sank them both deeper into the safety of the shadows.
“Yes, but your situation is far easier,” Freddie replied, “because your brother knows he doesn’t get his next share of the Broadmere inheritance unless you marry for love.
Your blissful union with an as-yet-unknown man will put him over the fifty percent mark, will it not?
Since only Felicity, Merry, and Serendipity remain the unmarried Abaroughs in search of their happily ever afters?
I’m sure he’s champing at the bit to get you to the altar. ”
“Oh, he is,” Joy assured her, “and he can champ on it till the cows come home, as far as I’m concerned. I am not interested in matrimony—at least, not yet. Not when said attachment will surely end my gambling days and force me to resign as acting founder and organizer of our Reader’s Dare Club.”
“Oh no. You wouldn’t close the club, would you?”
“I would have no choice if no one else stepped up to run it after I wed and took on the responsibilities of wifehood and eventually motherhood.” Joy shuddered at the daunting prospect of behaving like a proper lady.
She much preferred taking care of their illicit club.
Referred to as a book club, the Reader’s Dare Club was actually a gaming hell for ladies of Polite Society who could afford to lose a bob or two, all in the name of charity.
The morally gray undertaking was one of Joy’s best schemes, of which she was very proud.
Not only did the club provide generous donations to London’s Children’s Home and the British Charitable Fund, but the weekly gambling events disguised as meetings to discuss books satisfied her hunger for a dangerous dare.
Her like-minded friends had welcomed the distraction with open arms. After all, one could only host so many teas, stitch so much embroidery, and tolerate so many hours of torturous lessons on the pianoforte while muddling one’s way through the London Season in search of a passable husband.
“And what are you two conspiring about this time?” asked Lady Prudence Kettering, better known as Prudie, as she joined them.
“Are we planning the events for the next meeting of the club?” whispered Miss Aurelia Winterstone, her dark eyes flashing with excitement as she bounced over to them.
The young woman always reminded Joy of an exuberant puppy.
“I still say we should allow a few select men into our elite group. Think how the donation pot could grow.”
“They would try to take everything over,” Joy said while stretching to scan the ballroom for her brother, Chance, and three of her sisters, Felicity, Merry, and Serendipity.
Blessing and Fortuity had sent word that they wouldn’t be attending this particular soiree because Fortuity had a writing deadline, and Blessing wanted to use the night to study the stars.
Gracie was still in confinement, anxiously awaiting the day of her churching after giving birth to the twins.
“I’m surprised you’d want to admit males, Aurelia.
Don’t you tire of being outnumbered by them in your own home?
Especially as stubborn and arrogant as you’ve always said your eldest brother tends to be. ”
“Jansen can be a horse’s—” Aurelia cut herself off, smiling and nodding at old Lady Billersford as the woman swept past them. The haughty peeress didn’t return Aurelia’s polite greeting. Instead, the matron turned her face aside, stuck her sharp nose higher in the air, and sniffed.
“Old bat,” Joy said, while forcing a pleasant expression at the condescending woman.
“How dare she give you the cut direct just because your family is landed gentry rather than nobility.” A disgusted huff hissed free of her.
“I cannot abide such narrow-mindedness. Does she not realize that when the two of you cut yourselves, you both bleed red? And your horse’s arse of a brother is not only a celebrated war hero but a knight.
Has the woman no intelligence about her at all? ”
“My question,” said Lady Constance Burrastone, Connie to a select few, as she joined them, “is, what are we ever to do for entertainment this evening? The Marriage Mart is most disappointing, since the majority of the eligible males had prior commitments before this last-minute event.” She cringed and reached out to squeeze Freddie’s gloved hand.
“Please take no offense, my darling. I know our mothers are competitors when it comes to Society’s latest event to splash across the tattle sheets, but you and I are friends, and we both know one must plan these things well in advance for optimum effectiveness. ”
“No offense taken,” Freddie said with a genuine smile. “I have no idea what possessed Mother to throw this ball on a whim. Even the decorations appear to have been vomited all over the room rather than tastefully arranged. I honestly think she did it out of boredom.”
Joy almost snorted lemonade out of her nose. “Well then…what shall we do this evening to keep ourselves entertained, other than admire the floral vomitus filling the room?”
“Count the number of women Lord Smellington nauseates with his odor?” Freddie suggested.
“Too easy.” Joy shooed away that suggestion. “That would be any woman he approaches, and every woman he leaves in his wake.”
“We could count the gowns already worn one time too many and not returned to the modiste for freshening with different hems and trimmings.” Connie gave a particular lady on the other side of the room a pointed look.
Joy eyed her friend, wondering how she had never noticed Connie’s leanings toward mean pettiness before. “Connie, truly? I know you’re more creative than that.” She took on the tone her mother had always used whenever trying to make them feel guilty—and it had always worked.
Connie’s cheeks flushed to an embarrassed rosiness, and she had the good manners to bow her head. “Quite right. Do forgive me. I don’t know why I am so out of sorts this evening.”
With a teasing wiggle of her pert little nose, Prudie waved the girls in closer.
“What about a game of dare? If you complete the dare and win, the rest of us have to make an extra donation to the Reader’s Dare Club charity pot going to the children’s home this month.
If you fail the dare, then you have to make the same sizeable contribution that the rest of us would have raised together. What say you?”
The idea had merit, but Joy waited to see how the other ladies reacted. After all, as the founder of their gambling club, she didn’t want to behave as though her opinion was the only one that mattered.
“I like that idea, Prudie.” Aurelia turned to Freddie, Connie, and Joy. “What say you, ladies? Are we all in for some excitement this evening?”
“I am so ready for a bit of excitement,” Joy said, “that I am willing to be the first dare victim. What shall you dare me to do, dear friends? And pray, make it scandalous enough to hit the tittle-tattle sheets if I fail. After all, every dare must have a result more dire than losing a bit of coin. Don’t you think? ”
“In that case, I have the perfect thing.” Connie moved in closer, her green eyes as dancing and bright as the coppery highlights in her auburn hair.
Joy braced herself. Something in her friend’s tone gave her gooseflesh and caused the hairs on her nape to stand on end.
She thought the world of Connie, truly she did.
But the girl’s earlier suggestion of mean-spirited mischief had her concerned.
Was that revenge she smelled wafting through the air like stale perfume?
“Enlighten us, Connie. If Prudie, Aurelia, and Freddie second your motion, then I am at your mercy.” Literally. Joy never backed down from a dare. Never.
“You, my elite gambler who never loses, shall be locked in the library with a man of our choosing. No chaperone, of course. To play a game of whist for two and bet not only money, but kisses as well.”
A thrill rushed through Joy. It set her on fire like a gulp of strong brandy, unleashing a feeling so heady it almost made her dizzy.
What a dare this was! So exciting and so full of risk.
But if anyone found her in such a compromising position, she’d be ruined if she didn’t leg-shackle the poor man into a marriage of convenience.
Even she knew better than to push a dare too far.
If she were ruined, her sisters would be ruined too.