How to Ruin Your Reputation in 10 Days (Ladies of Passion)

by Harmony Williams

  She mirrored my expression. “What are you wearing? Oh, never mind. When you didn’t show up at Hyde Park, I feared the worst.”

  The bed dipped as she threw herself down beside me. I mustered what little patience I still cultivated as I faced her dramatics. Though perhaps she had right to be angry. I’d forgotten about our meeting entirely, what with the day’s excitement.

  “I’m so sorry. Mary came over and cajoled me into going out with her.”

  “Ah. That explains it.” Rose wrinkled her nose at me. Or, more likely, at my attire. She reached for my hand and tugged me to my feet. “Let’s get you out of those hideous clothes.”

  My ankle gave way as I started to put weight on it. Rose shouldered her way beneath my arm and transplanted me into the dressing room. She left the door ajar to invite in the meager light from my bedroom. She immediately attacked the laces at my throat. Within seconds, they loosened enough to pull the shirt over my head.

  Rose, it seemed, had gotten rather good at removing men’s clothing in her happily married state.

  With the shirt over my head, my arms still caught in the sleeves and the fabric muffling my face, Rose lamented, “I waited for you for an hour, you know. An hour. Haven’t you a care for my delicate condition?”

  I wrestled the shirt the rest of the way off and threw it on the ground. Unfortunately, my dress from this morning was no longer there. Pauline must have found it and returned it to the wardrobe. Meaning I had one more person to explain my actions to today. I stifled a sigh.

  I met Rose’s gaze. In the weakened sunlight streaming into the room, her blue eyes appeared almost black. Ominous.

  “What delicate condition is that?” I asked, irritable.

  She beamed. Her smile seemed to supplement the sunlight and light up the small room. She pressed her hand to her belly. “I’m with child.”

  I reeled. I stretched my arm out to graze the wall and steady myself. Somehow, I mustered a slim smile. It didn’t do justice to the snarl of emotions in my stomach. Rose was pregnant? I would soon have a child to dote upon, if not my own.

  “Rose, that’s wonderful!” I launched myself upon her, wrapping my arms around her neck.

  She hugged me back just as fiercely.

  “How long have you known?” I asked as I pulled away.

  “I’ve suspected for almost a month, but I had to be sure before telling anyone.” Jubilation brimmed in her voice and her expression.

  I hugged her again. I didn’t want to part. “I can’t wait for the child to arrive,” I whispered in her ear.

  My joy dimmed as I realized that I might be locked up in a convent when that happened. I drew back and busied myself with removing the rest of these blasted clothes.

  Rose stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “Francine, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy for me?”

  “Of course I am, Rose. I just…”

  Her eyebrows knit in a scowl. “You’re jealous.”

  I rubbed my forehead between my eyebrows, where a small headache had rooted. “Not exactly. Papa…he’s set me an ultimatum.”

  “What does that mean?” Rose unknotted the bandage around my chest and started to unwind it.

  “It means I have until the end of the Season to marry. Or he’ll send me away.”

  “Away?” She recoiled. Now free, the bandages drooped and unravel all on their own. “Where?”

  I turned away. I didn’t want to see the pity on her face. “He’s threatened me with a convent.”

  “That’s mad!”

  I shrugged, my back turned.

  “Well, we’ll have to change his mind.”

  She sounded so matter-of-fact I almost smiled. But then I remembered the gravity of the situation. “I doubt he’ll be swayed,” I told her. “Mary’s trying as we speak.”

  Rose gave a melodramatic moan. “Francine, how could you let her play advocate for you? You’ll ruin your chances of undoing this verdict.”

  I turned, spearing her with a glare. “Can you stop her when she sets her mind to something?”

  Rose made a face. She wasn’t any more successful at curbing our friend’s outbursts than I was.

  She shook her head. “Well if we can’t change his mind, we can at least extend the date. Ten days to find a husband is ludicrous. He’ll see reason. You’ll at least have next Season.”

  I wanted to believe her, I did. But she hadn’t seen the livid expression on Papa’s face when he’d learned I’d entertained an unsuitable man in the bushes. If Julian had met my father’s standards, I would have an entirely different predicament—not necessarily a better one.

  To Rose, I said weakly, “My ankle is giving me grief. Would you mind fetching me a dress to change into? I can’t very well remain here naked.”

  “Of course.” She slipped into the other room.

  I fought with the bandages as she left. The mess turned into a snarl around my breasts. At least with it loosened I breathed easier. The constriction of the bandages on my chest no longer hampered my movement. Finally, I fought free of the damned things and hurled them onto the ground. I pushed the overlarge breeches down after them.

  Rose returned with the dress and a chemise. She lifted each over my head in turn. I was grateful for the covering. She buttoned the gown in silence and helped me into the other room.

  Mary waited on the bed, swinging her legs. “Ah, there you are. I wondered if you’d run off again.”

  Shaking my head, I asked, “Where would I have run off to, Mary?”

  She shrugged. “You never know. Maybe that Julian fellow showed up and asked you to come out with him.”

  “Julian?” Rose echoed with raised eyebrows. “Why haven’t I heard of this? You’ve been morose over your impending sentence, and you may have solved it all along.”

  I shook my head, hobbling away from Rose to sit beside Mary on the bed. “Julian is not an option. He’s the friend you found me dancing with last night.”

  Rose narrowed her eyes with a sly smile. “I found something, but it wasn’t dancing.”

  My cheeks heated. Mary glanced at me with alarm. “It’s not what she thinks,” I assured Mary. To Rose, I added, “I was dancing, until I strained my ankle. He kept me from falling.”

  Rose grinned. “I’m sure.”

  Oh, there was no getting through to her.

  Mary shrugged in dismissal. “I’ve met the fellow. I agree with Francine. I saw no clues that he wanted to take advantage of her.”

  “See?”

  Rose shook her head. “Mary, what would you know? Have you ever been courted by a man?”

  She scowled. “I’m asked to dance.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  I cleared my throat, hoping to abort confrontation between the two of them. “Can we focus on my predicament, please? I don’t want to go to a convent.”

  But, at the same time, I couldn’t think of a single gentleman I could suffer to be married to. I kept that thought to myself.

  “The answer’s simple,” Rose said. “We’ll find you a husband before the ten days are up.”

  “I hardly think so,” Mary said loudly. “Assuming Lord Valentia doesn’t change his mind—”

  More likely miracles would happen first, like turning water into wine.

  “—the answer isn’t to go along with what your father sets down for you.”

  If only Mary had any sense of reality. Papa had absolute control over my future. If he sent me to a convent, I had to go. That, or be thrown out into the street like a common beggar.

  “Mary, please don’t make Francine’s life more complicated,” Rose said. She pressed her hand over her belly.

  Oh no. Was the conversation upsetting her? I didn’t want to put her child at risk.

  I squeezed closer to Mary. When I patted the bed beside me, Rose gave me a slim smile and sank down on the plush mattress.

  Unfortunately, Mary didn’t drop the subject. “Francine’s life wouldn’t be complicated if her father tre
ated her like a person instead of like an unruly pet he possesses. He can’t punish her for something she hasn’t done wrong.”

  She turned to me, her eyes earnest. “I assume you haven’t suddenly turned to religion to solve your problems? You don’t want to become a nun.”

  “No,” I said with feeling. “Anything but that.”

  Even marriage. But did it have to be to a man of my father’s choosing? All I wanted was a nice man who would leave me in peace to study my plants. I didn’t think that was too much to ask.

  “Then the way forward is clear,” Mary said. “We ruin your reputation.”

  Silence enclosed the room. Rose shattered it first.

  “That’s a terrible idea.”

  To be honest, I agreed with her. I added, “I don’t think that will solve anything, Mary.”

  “To the contrary,” she said. “If you’re seen as a sinful woman, what convent will accept you? And, at the same time, no man will marry you, either. We’ve solved the problem all in one fell move.”

  I hedged. Her solution sounded too final. And what would my life entail after that? I doubted Papa would react favorably. But if we sowed the seeds of discord in a way that didn’t prove permanent, ensuring my continued welcome in polite Society…

  No, it was ludicrous. A madwoman’s idea. A last resort, to be sure.

  Rose scoffed. “Are you suggesting that she lose her virtue?”

  The notion petrified me. I hadn’t thought of that. I didn’t want to engage in that sort of activity with a man, certainly not for the sake of tarnishing my reputation. I turned to Mary in alarm.

  A scowl darkened her features. “Certainly not.”

  The tension in my belly evaporated somewhat.

  She continued, “Francine doesn’t need a man to rule her life. And she certainly doesn’t need one to ruin her reputation, either.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Back to my idea, then.”

  I cleared my throat. Maybe Mary’s idea had merit after all. “What do you propose, Mary?”

  She beamed. “We spread rumors, of course. It’ll be easy. The servants love to gossip and several owe me favors. It’ll be all around London in hours.”

  Rose reached across me to wag her finger under Mary’s nose. “Don’t you dare. You’ll ruin her chances at marriage. I have a plan, after all.”

  I blinked. “You do?” Moments earlier, she’d been lamenting she didn’t have enough time to graft the match.

  “Of course I do,” she said. “Have a little faith.”

  Mary crossed her arms with a harrumph. “Do continue. I must hear this.” Her glower contradicted her words.

  Rose lifted her chin a notch higher in the air. “It’s simple, really. First, we identify the kind of man you’re interested in, Francine. The kind of man who is interested in you.”

  I didn’t think such a man existed. Mustering a false smile, I muttered, “I’m not picky.”

  Not that Rose paid me any mind at all.

  Mary said, “And then what? Do tell.”

  Rose smiled triumphantly. “We don’t have time to trick him into falling in love, like I did with Warren.”

  I snorted. She made it sound like she had aimed to fall in love with him the entire time. If I recalled correctly, he had been on the very bottom of her list. He had pursued her; she hadn’t tricked him into anything.

  She glared me into silence then continued, “When we find the man of choice, we’ll have to force his hand.”

  That sounded promising. Not only would I be trapped in a marriage, but he would be, too. What a recipe for a disaster.

  Mary laughed. “That’s your plan?”

  “Yes.” Rose lifted her chin. “It worked for me, didn’t it?”

  I didn’t know what aspect of her plan she’d applied to her own marriage, but I held my tongue.

  Mary wisely did the same. She pushed off from the bed, catching my gaze. “I’ll have to think on a good rumor. I’ll ready my contacts. Your father might still come around. We don’t want to ruin your reputation if we don’t have to, right?”

  Rose smiled at her, baring her teeth in the most unfriendly expression I’d ever seen her wear. “You’d better be jesting, Mary. If I hear one sliver of a rumor, I’ll string you up by that waistcoat you’re wearing. We are finding Francine a husband, and that is final.”

  Mary rolled her eyes at me. Beside me, Rose tensed. Without looking at her, I sensed her glower. I inched away from her, removing myself from the line of fire.

  Pointedly, Mary said, “I have things to do, so I’ll bid you adieu. Until later?”

  I nodded.

  Rose sighed the moment Mary’s slim form disappeared from view. “Finally,” she said with feeling. Then with a frown, she added, “You’re not considering her option, are you?”

  “No,” I said, though I hadn’t made up my mind.

  “Good. We have much to do.” She, too, stood from the bed. I sank farther into the mattress, all alone. She raised her eyebrows at me. “I’ll see you at the opera tonight?”

  “No. Mother has already agreed I can cry off on account of my ankle.”

  Rose gave the appendage a dubious frown. But her displeasure in itself would not heal my injury. I needed some time to recuperate, didn’t I?

  As she departed, I sank back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling while I waited for the throbbing in my ankle to abate. When I shut my eyes, I relived my near-kiss with Julian. Shame burned through me—more at his refusal than at the fact that I’d asked. Why hadn’t he kissed me? He’d offered no explanation for his silence these past few months, either. I deserved an explanation.

  I balled my fists as I wrestled into a sitting position. I didn’t understand him. Before he disappeared from London as suddenly as he’d arrived, I had to get an answer from him.

  Chapter Seven

  The carriage wheels rattled as they encountered stray pebbles along Rotten Row. The sun warmed my cheeks, tipped up to meet it. It wasn’t as though I had to worry about developing freckles. I already had too many.

  “How is your ankle?” Pauline asked. Her voice was so soft that it was nearly overpowered by the clomp of horses’ hooves and the light babble of voices from the strolling couples and other carriages we drove past.

  I fought not to grimace. “As well as may be.” Truthfully, it still throbbed with vigor even while resting. I should have stayed at home, abed, but after Rose and Mary had left, I hadn’t been able to rest in peace. My mind was awhirl with my problem and what I would do about it. Truthfully, I liked neither of their solutions, but I didn’t care for Papa’s edict, either. All I wanted was for my life to remain exactly how it was.

  However, time continued to pass. No matter what, my life was about to change. I had to gird it onto a path I could envision living on for the rest of my life. If only I knew what that was.

  A flash of color caught my eye to my right. Beneath the pleached hornbeam, the branches growing intertwined to form a natural wind breaker of sorts, was that flash of yellow a sprig of Fritillaria imperialis? I hadn’t known that anyone had planted crown imperials along Rotten Row.

  “Wait—”

  Henry didn’t seem to hear.

  Blast! We would have to circle the entire park before we returned to this spot. I was tired of waiting for opportunities to come my way. I had to seize this one.

  When the carriage slowed to pass a knot of strolling ladies, I jumped out the door to the ground. A white shaft of pain sprung up my calf and I gasped. I smiled tightly at the women as I hobbled away, trying not to show the agony that gripped me. Why had I done that? Brainless!

  “Miss Francine!”

  Unable to speak, I didn’t answer Pauline’s call. I focused on the crown imperials, their bell-shaped heads pointed toward the ground as if they hung their heads in shame.

  “Henry, stop the carriage.”

  Upon reaching the flowers, I spread my shawl upon the grass and lowered my rump onto it. The moment my weight
lifted off my injured ankle, the stabs of pain reduced to a dull throb. I released a sigh. Leaning forward, I massaged my bandaged ankle as I examined the cheery plant in front of me.

  A chuckle warmed the air from behind me. “Only you would jump from a carriage to pick wildflowers.”

  Julian. The awareness of him rippled through me. I ducked my head. Not now. We’d only seen each other a couple of hours past. Not only had he refused to give me any explanation for why he’d thrown our friendship to the wayside and ceased to write, but he’d also denied me a kiss. Perhaps it had been foolish of me to ask, but…I couldn’t face him after such a refusal. It was humiliating.

  In a small voice, I told him, “I haven’t touched the flower. I prefer not to uproot it for no good reason.”

  Why couldn’t my parents see that the same was true of me? I thrived where I was; there was no sense in transplanting me elsewhere. I didn’t foresee myself taking to a convent, nor living life alongside a man I neither respected nor cared for. I liked my life exactly the way it was. Unfortunately, I wasn’t a plant, or Mother would have been altogether too happy to keep me.

  With difficulty, I shoved to my feet. Julian lunged to help, cupping my elbow as he bore my weight. He bent to retrieve my shawl for me. I snatched it out of his hands but couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see his eyes dance with good humor, as though nothing had passed between us this morning. The phantom touch of his lips tingled across mine, a memory. I swallowed hard and turned away.

  “Thank you, Mr. Beckwith.”

  “Francine…” His voice was low, intimate, and dark with disapproval. I turned away before I witnessed whether or not his expression matched.

  Near five feet down the line, a ragged gap in the hornbeam might provide just enough room to slip through. I glanced behind me. Pauline lifted her skirts and danced as she tried to pass a clump of women who seemed determined to block the grassy strip next to the lane. She wouldn’t arrive soon enough to save me from spending time alone with Julian. I opted for escape instead.

  My shawl balled in my fist, I arrowed for the gap in the hedge. As I squeezed through, the branches snagged at my hair, encouraging it free of my coiffure. Locks fell free to frame my face as I reached the other side.