A Debutante's Guide to Rebellion (8 page)

“There is another option. You wait. You get to know each other. When she's of age, it won't matter if her parents approve or not.”

“We can't wait that long,” Ezekiel said.

“Why not? Assuming we manage to save her from whatever scheme her mother's invented—”

“She is miserable,” Ezekiel said. It was a misery he understood. But he had the influence of his uncle and cousin to counter that of his stepfather. And he had his peculiar mind, which so thoroughly rebelled against his father's ways that it had been clear to him from the time that he was a child that it was
impossible
to be what his father wanted. As a result, he had never tried to contort himself to those expectations. He had known who he was, because every moment of every day showed him a thousand instances of what he
wasn't
.

Lady Eddie was not as peculiar as he was. She still thought that what her mother wanted was possible. His father was asking a crawling vine to grow into an oak tree; Lady Copeland was merely demanding that a tulip change its color, and Lady Eddie still believed she could.

“She is always alone,” he said. “At every dance. When she does speak to anyone, she looks immediately for her mother. Only if she does not see her does she dare continue the conversation. She calls herself ugly and clumsy and worse with the confidence of one who has been informed of such attributes on a regular basis. She cannot stay in that household.”

“She's survived this long.”

“Lord and Lady Copeland resided in India from the time Lady Eddie was ten years old until two years ago. She has been spared their attention for much of her life.” She had told him some; the rest had not been difficult to infer. He was no student of humanity, but he found himself an avid pupil when it came to the subject of Lady Eddie herself. He was confident in his suppositions. And frightened of what might happen if he were right, and did nothing.

***

Eighteen minutes before midnight, Eddie stole to the window and opened it a few inches. Any farther and it would creak. She had contemplated leaping to the street below to effect her escape, but she was on the third floor; the drop would surely break a leg, if not kill her outright. And so for eighteen heart-pounding minutes, she waited.

She ought to have known he would arrive precisely at the stroke of midnight, rounding the corner with a furtive gait that suggested a wading bird attempting a canter.

“Lady Eddie,” he called up at precisely the right volume to be heard without drawing attention. “I received your message.”

“I was worried you wouldn't understand it,” she confessed. “I didn't have much time to concoct the code.”

“It was unusual,” he said delicately. “But Sophie and I were able to decipher it, once we realized the basic principles at play. Are you locked in your room?”

“Yes. And I'm not to be let out until the ball. I fear I'm a reverse Cinderella,” Eddie said. “And worse, my mother has planned some kind of trap for your uncle at Lady Brent's ball. I don't know the details, but we can assume it will turn out poorly for all who are involved.”

“And you think that we should elope?”

“Don't you?” She peered down at him anxiously. Had he changed his mind so quickly?

“It's the only way we can be married, it seems. As that is our agreed-upon goal, your strategy is sensible. The difficulty will be in liberating you from your room so that we can achieve an elopement.” He frowned, deep in thought. “Is there any way that you can climb down?”

“The ivy won't hold me, and my hair's not long enough,” she said.

“What does your hair have to do with anything?”

“Rapunzel. Never mind. I suppose I could knot the sheets together . . .” She glanced back at her bed. She thought she could manage to knot them sufficiently to hold her weight, and perhaps if she tied the end around the bed-leg . . .

“Perhaps a different plan of attack is called for,” Mr. Blackwood said.
Ezekiel,
she told herself. If she was planning to elope with the man, she might as well commit the scandal of referring to him by his first name. “Your mother's plan necessitates that you and my uncle be alone, correct? And for a period of time sufficient to imply some misdeed has occurred.”

“That's right,” Eddie said. “I expect she'll arrange for us both to be in some secluded room, then burst in with her most gossipy friends.” She was, in fact, utterly certain that her mother had planned exactly that. She could even predict which ladies she would have accompanying her. Lady Halbrook for an appropriate level of shrieking, Lady Cassandra Brent to absolutely insist there was no possible way to pretend it never happened, and Lady Marden to spread the rumor like a fever through the city.

Lady Copeland would first insist that she was certain nothing untoward had happened. Then she would assure them that surely, surely this could be forgotten, there was no need to inconvenience Lord Averdale and shame her daughter. But the others, so carefully selected, would insist and push and sigh and exclaim, and in the end she would have simply no choice but to insist that Averdale marry Eddie, as the only possible solution. If she had truly wanted to, Lady Copeland could have cowed her friends into covering up a double murder, never mind a simple moment of scandal. But of course she would go to no such effort.

It was a pity that women were not allowed in the armed forces; Lady Copeland's skill set would have been far more useful on a battlefield, and at least then she would have been serving interests other than her own.

“I shall warn my uncle,” Ezekiel said. “But insist that he attend the ball. Your mother will be forced to let you out of her sight if she has any hope of success. Then . . . then I could replace him. It would be the two of us caught in the scandal.”

“It wouldn't work,” Eddie said with a sigh. “If it was you, she would only cover it up and find some other way.”

“Then we elope,” Ezekiel said matter-of-factly. “I will have a carriage waiting. I have visited the Brent home several times. I am familiar with its layout. I shall map the most efficient routes to the exit. By the time your mother returns to complete the tableau, we shall both be gone. We can go to Scotland directly, and be wed before anyone has the chance to stop us.”

Eddie ought to have told him he was mad. Instead she tilted her head, considering. “You're certain that your uncle will help us? Because we will need his help, if we're to accomplish it.”

“No,” Ezekiel said. “But I will attempt to persuade him.”

“If you fail to, make sure that he doesn't attend. Or go into any rooms alone, at the very least,” Eddie said.

Ezekiel paused. “I thought that you wanted to marry him,” he said. “Perhaps it would be better to allow your mother's plan to reach fruition.”

“I wanted to marry
someone
,” Eddie said. “But not like this. I should hate to have him angry with me on our wedding day.”

“It's not you he would be angry with,” Ezekiel said. “You would be as much a victim as he.”

“Few people would see it that way,” Eddie said. Everyone would say that she had arranged it herself, or at the very least conspired with her mother. She did not have friends to defend her, nor a reputation to offer any protection.

“We could stymie the attempt, without eloping,” Ezekiel said. “You needn't marry at all.”

“I told you. I want to marry.”

“You needn't marry
me
,” Ezekiel said. “I do not wish you to feel that you are in any way obligated.”

“Nor are you,” Eddie said quickly. Of course he was having second thoughts. It had been a foolish proposal to begin with. They'd only known one another for a few days, and he was young. It would be ten years before anyone even began to grumble about him finding himself a wife.

“Then do you not want to . . . ?”

“If you don't want . . .” Eddie said, and they paused, staring at each other. “I want to,” she said. “If you do.”

“I do,” he said.

“Because it's a logical solution to our problems,” Eddie said, almost a question. She could not bring herself to ask if it was anything more. She could not bear to hear the answer. Either way, it would make this all far too frightening.

“Exactly,” Ezekiel said, and she relaxed. “Very well. I will make all the necessary arrangements. You need only ensure that your mother does not suspect us.”

“I think I can manage that,” Eddie said. “Honestly, I think she would be surprised I had such an original thought.”

“Your mother doesn't know you well at all, does she?” Ezekiel said, and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

She kept his words clasped close long after he'd left, when she lay alone in bed, waiting for what the morning would bring.

The door opened only for the necessities: water and a basin with which to bathe each evening; food; the ferrying of chamber pots. The day of the ball arrived to find Eddie pacing her room, near-mad with boredom and nerves. John had managed to sneak her a few books, but she proved too anxious to read them.

When a key scraped in the lock, she froze in place. The door opened on a maid, who quickly stepped aside to allow Lady Copeland to enter, her hands folded imperiously in front of her. She surveyed the room, her gaze seeming to light on Eddie out of chance. Her brows raised slightly.

“Well. We certainly have our work cut out for us,” she said. “My room. Now.”

Eddie bowed her head meekly. She must go along with her mother's preparations and show no sign of anything but surrender. It would not be difficult. She had, after all, years of practice.

So she followed her mother down the hall with small, shuffling steps, and sat with eyes downcast before the vanity. Her mother's maid attacked her hair at once. She had not curled it the night before, and so only her natural curls were on display, which set both older women clucking and sighing to one another.

“No matter. As long as you look presentable, the rest won't matter,” Lady Copeland said, as if to reassure her, and patted her on the shoulder. “You'll see, my dear. You'll be ever so happy.”

Eddie bit her tongue and said nothing. Her mother hummed as Judith worked, perusing her own wardrobe. As the minutes dragged on, and Eddie focused on not wincing every time there was a sharp tug at her scalp, Lady Copeland grew listless. She rummaged in the back of her wardrobe and took out the lockbox, as she often did when she was bored, and set it on her writing desk.

Eddie looked away before she opened it. She didn't need to see her mother fawning over the jewels. Those damned things received more attention than Eddie ever had. The constant sketches, one setting after another, all to find the perfect way to display them. It was far more care and effort than Lady Copeland ever put toward finding the right setting for
Eddie
. She was determined to force her into whatever situation presented itself first.

“That is the best I can do,” Judith said with an air of defeat, and waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Eddie's head. Her hair was braided and knotted in a bun at the top of her head, held in place with a bevy of pins and a circlet of five-petaled flowers. Loose curls hung at the sides of her face in waves, softening her features. She looked, she thought, very nearly lovely.

“A pity,” her mother said with a sigh. “Ah, well. If it's all that can be done, we simply have to accept it.” She glanced at the lockbox, and sighed again. “A shame we cannot use the jewels to distract. The new setting isn't ready yet. But I've ordered you a new gown.”

“Yellow again?” Eddie asked, unable to restrain herself.

“
Marigold,
” her mother corrected. “And no. I've decided that marigold is
not
your color. This dress is crimson and silver.”

“In what proportions?” Eddie asked, slightly alarmed, and then reminded herself forcefully that it did not matter. She would very soon be beyond the reach of her mother's sartorial tortures. At least the marigold dress had been beautiful; it was simply not beautiful on her. This latest had the whiff of catastrophe about it.

“You'll see. Judith, if you might assist.” Lady Copeland swept out of the room, shutting the lockbox as she moved past it. The maid followed. The door shut; Eddie listened for the click of the lock, and, sure enough, it came.

She rose and tried the knob anyway. Not that she'd get far, even assuming she got out of the room. No, she had to be patient and trust that Ezekiel had arranged things as he had promised.

She found herself staring at the lockbox. Her mother had not locked it again, had she?

She tried the lid. It opened easily. The three diamonds winked at her from their tray, each nestled individually on small satin pillows. She bit her lip. Her mother would be angry when she ran away, but all her devastation would be centered on the scandal. She would not care if Eddie was happy; she would not
miss
her in any way but the most selfish.

But the diamonds . . . The diamonds, her mother would miss.

And what had she done to deserve them? Bought the right mine. Or rather, married the man who had bought the right mine. And it hadn't even been his to begin with; he'd cheated a business partner out of it under truly sordid circumstances Eddie was not supposed to know anything about—but which she knew were why Phoebe Spenser had stopped speaking to her, and several familiar faces had not returned to the reestablished annual Copeland ball. They were, in sum, the compressed, cut, polished, and perfected symbols of everything Eddie hated about her family.

Before she could think better of the notion, she snatched them from the lockbox and closed the lid. Together, they fit awkwardly in her hand. She needed somewhere to hide them, but where?

She looked at herself in the mirror, and smiled.

Her mother did say that her bosom was her most valuable asset.

By the time the lock turned on the door, the diamonds were out of view, safely tucked under her shift and corset.

Her mother's maid was carrying the dress, and held it up for inspection.

“Oh,” Eddie said, fluttering her lashes becomingly. “It's
perfect
.”

Her mother nodded in satisfaction and, as if as an afterthought, locked the box that no longer contained three of the most valuable stones in London.

***

“Do try to remember to breathe,” Lord Averdale implored his nephew.

It was excellent advice. Unfortunately, Ezekiel had just spotted Lady Eddie entering the ballroom. She was, as ever, arresting.

“My God,” Sophie murmured from Ezekiel's other side. “That's . . . eye-catching.”

It certainly was. Thick vertical stripes of silver and crimson adorned the dress, which by themselves would have commanded the gaze with great authority. It was the flowers that truly made people stare, though. There were dozens of them, the size of a child's palm, sewn to the hem, climbing up one shoulder, and accenting the waist. At least the flowers at the arm of her gloves at the base of her sleeves were lace, rather than fresh; it almost approached restraint, compared to the rest. Ezekiel knew nothing of fashion, but even he could tell it was an exercise in excess.

But then she saw him, and grinned, and it didn't matter what she was wearing. She was the most beautiful thing in the room.

“Don't stare too much. You'll give us away,” Sophie warned him. “I hope we don't have to wait too long. I do have an agenda of my own, you know.” She was looking not at Eddie, but across the room, at a young man with very well-arranged features and a look of studied boredom on his face.

“Probably best if I'm on my own for the start of this,” Lord Averdale said. He nodded to them both. “Remind me that next time you two ask for a favor, I'm to ask its nature before I agree. And Sophie, dear, do be gentle with the poor young lords, and remember that scandals are not a competition.”

“Dear Uncle, you should know by now that it's never a scandal when
I
do it,” Sophie said, and flashed a grin before wafting her way across the floor to hook her latest catch. Which left Ezekiel alone, fidgeting nervously and trying not to stare at Lady Eddie. It was difficult. She seemed to be at the periphery of his vision no matter how he positioned himself, a crimson-and-silver apparition. Even if he turned his back entirely, he could hear her occasionally make a comment or laugh at something her brother said. And turning his back left him staring at a wall with no good reason, attracting several stares of his own.

He turned back around in time to see a servant bend to whisper in Lord Averdale's ear. Averdale nodded sagely and then scratched the side of his face with two fingers, the agreed-upon signal. Lady Copeland was not risking losing him to an early exit, then.

Ezekiel's hands felt clammy, and his heart suddenly began to beat much faster than its customary rhythm.

He watched his uncle depart the room, and then watched Lady Copeland prod her daughter forward. Eddie looked at him once, for half a second, before setting her shoulders and following Lord Averdale out of the ballroom.

Ezekiel moved swiftly after them, keeping the mass of people between himself and Lady Copeland. He exited in time to spot Eddie rounding a corner and hurried after her. Judging by her trajectory, they would be meeting in the Yellow Room. Good. It was very quick indeed to traverse the hallways between the Yellow Room and the back entrance at which their carriage was waiting.

When he caught up with Eddie, she was already in the doorway. Lord Averdale stood inside the room, hands folded behind him.

“Lovely to see you, Lady Mildred,” he greeted Eddie, and bowed, indicating the door at the opposite end of the room. “Have a pleasant journey. My servants will be expecting you.”

She flashed him that marvelous smile and grabbed Ezekiel's hand. They fled out the back, Ezekiel's nerves on such an edge he felt as if he might snap in half. Once they were out the door he took the lead, bringing her down the hall and toward the back exit.

“Quickly!” she urged him. “She only gave me three minutes.”

“We're here,” he said, and reached for the doorknob.

It was locked. He frowned at it. It was locked, and there was no internal mechanism to
un
lock it without a key.

“Well. Damn,” Eddie said.

Behind them, voices rose in appalled shock—and then abruptly cut off.

“Oh dear,” Eddie said. “I'm afraid my mother has discovered my escape. Please tell me there's another way out of here.”

Ezekiel closed his eyes, mapping the house in his mind. Which exits wouldn't be observed? “Upstairs,” he said. “Third room on the left. There's a window with a trellis.”

“Well, I'll be excellently camouflaged, at least,” Eddie said with a nervous giggle. “How do you know the orientation of the rooms upstairs?”

“I am very good at escaping balls,” Ezekiel confessed, and tugged her down the hallway. They half ran, moving as quickly and quietly as they could to a servants' staircase and up to the second floor.

The bedroom door was unlocked, thank goodness, and the room unoccupied. Ezekiel crossed to the window and threw it open. “Will you be all right to—” he started, but Eddie had already squeezed past him and thrown a leg over the sill.

“See you at the bottom,” she said, and began to clamber down.

The door opened. Ezekiel froze. Eddie's head was still sticking up above the sill, and she swore even more dramatically than before.

“I didn't know you knew that word,” Eddie's brother said, and sighed. “I thought I heard someone coming this way. Scotland?”

“That's the plan,” Eddie confirmed.

“Well. I suppose I should stop you,” he said.

“But you won't,” Eddie said. Ezekiel hoped fervently that she was right. Lord Welford did not look decided at all.

“What am I supposed to tell Mother?” he said.

“That you have no idea where we've gone,” Eddie said firmly.

“Or you could tell her that I hit you,” Ezekiel suggested. “You valiantly attempted to stop us, but were unable to overpower me.”

“Like anyone would believe that.”

“I've had boxing lessons,” Ezekiel said. In fact, he thought that after that torturous hour, he might actually be able to land a punch. What was meant to happen after that, he was not so certain.

“Right. Didn't see you,” Lord Welford said, and shut the door.

“Do you think he'll tell her?” Ezekiel asked.

“Doesn't matter. We'll be gone,” Eddie said. “Now hurry up.”

She scrambled down the trellis, and Ezekiel followed after, somewhat more cautiously. It would do them no good to get to the ground swiftly if it meant a broken limb. Once his feet had touched the ground, he knocked stray bits of plant matter from his hands and looked around. They had come down on the wrong side of the building.

“The carriage is this way,” he said, and pointed, just as a flock of well-dressed partygoers passed by in that direction. He waited, hoping they would move on, but they lingered at the rear of the building, their laughter floating to where Ezekiel and Eddie waited.

“We're sure to be spotted,” Eddie said.

Inside, Lady Copeland's voice rose in hysterical anguish. Ezekiel didn't need to make out the words to guess the content of her complaint.

“We'll have to run,” he said.

They did, away from the house—and away from the carriage.

Neither one of them being accustomed to physical labor, they did not get far before they were panting and out of breath. At least they were out of view of the house.

It was then that it began to rain.

Ezekiel immediately removed his jacket and put it over Eddie's shoulders. She hunched against the onslaught of water. At least it was warm, still.

“Where to?” Eddie asked, raising her voice over the drumming of water.

“I suppose we shall have to hail a hack,” Ezekiel said, looking about.

“Do you have any money?” Eddie asked.

“Er. No,” he admitted.

She sighed. “Nor do I.”

“We could return to my uncle's town house,” Ezekiel suggested. “And acquire funds there.”

“That will be the very first place my mother looks for us,” Eddie said. “And we can't go to my home, either. Look. I have a way to get some money, but we'll need to find a bad part of town, and absolutely swear one another to silence for our entire lives.”

He gaped at her. “You don't mean that you intend to—”

“I have something to sell, you idiot,” Eddie said, but she was giggling. “I'm not about to become a lady of the night after fifteen minutes of hardship. Just a little bit of a thief.” She dipped her hand into her cleavage—he looked swiftly away—and then held out her hand. Three diamonds winked in her palm. He stared.