Sabrina wasn’t sure she agreed that she was ready, but she had come a long way. It would be foolish to not seize this opportunity, especially if Aldington was open to improving things, as it seemed he might be. “What is the plan?”
“Tomorrow evening—later, around eleven—Lucien will show his brother to a private chamber on the second floor of the Phoenix Club.”
Interrupting her, Sabrina asked, “Why the Phoenix Club?”
“Because there are bedchambers, and it offers discretion that an inn or other establishment might not. Both you and Aldington will be secreted upstairs wearing masks and cloaks, so there will be no chance of recognition. Aldington will be waiting in one of the chambers, blindfolded, and you will enter a few minutes later. A single candle will be lit so that you can see the surroundings. As I said, you’ll retain your mask in case his blindfold is dislodged.”
“You’ve thought of everything,” Sabrina said in wonder. “What should I do when I arrive?”
“You should undress to the level of which you are comfortable. Most of all, you must be commanding and alluring. Everything you say must carry the weight of experience and sensuality. We’ll practice this today, if you’d like.”
Sabrina appreciated her friend’s support and assistance, even if the thought of practicing seduction made her stomach knot. “I’m still not sure I’m capable of doing this.”
Evie folded her hands in her lap and regarded Sabrina expectantly. “Are you an outgoing person fond of crowds?”
“Not at all. But I’ve already told you that.” During their first meeting and again last night as exhaustion had begun to set in near the end of the rout.
“Yet you behaved last night as if you were both.” Evie’s expression dared Sabrina to argue. She could not. “You can do the same as the tutor. The only obstacle is you believing you can.”
She had already done much more than she’d expected herself capable of just a few short weeks ago. A sudden calmness swept over her. “I can do it.”
Evie beamed with pride. “I’m so glad. Now, let us finish our tea and begin your lesson.” She waggled her brows.
Later, as Sabrina rode home in the coach, she couldn’t help but think the scheme was utter folly. She was going to pretend to be a tutor of something at which she was woefully uneducated, and her husband was turning himself over to the care of a stranger. That he’d never taken a mistress and would now meet with a former courtesan—even if she was a fraud—to learn how to seduce his wife was somehow sweet. Would she feel differently, however, if the former courtesan was someone other than her? It was a moot question because it was her.
Her mind turned to what she would wear tomorrow evening—something she could remove and don without assistance. A corset would be an unnecessary bother. The idea of going without a corset was titillating—perhaps that was the right mindset she needed. Her cobalt gown last night had made her feel like a countess, so she would dress to summon the role of a former courtesan. And she would speak with a different tone. Lower, perhaps. Seductive. A tickle of anticipation danced over her flesh.
There was also a chill of uncertainty that had nothing to do with her self-doubt. This was a deceptive scheme. Though this would help their marriage, she couldn’t ignore the troublesome flash of guilt when she acknowledged that it was still a betrayal. She hadn’t even discussed this concern with Evie. The rest had been too overwhelming.
Since Aldington had agreed to meet with this stranger, he wasn’t entirely blameless—not that it was a competition or that both of their behavior somehow canceled out the wrongness of it. But was it really wrong if they were both trying, however drastically, to save their marriage? If it meant the difference between a lifetime of loneliness and an intimate union they both enjoyed, Sabrina knew which she would choose. Whatever the cost.
Following his racing club meeting, Constantine drove his phaeton to his father’s house in Grosvenor Square. As he stepped down from the vehicle, he brushed his hand over the side, where a bright yellow sun, the official design of the Gentlemen’s Phaeton Racing Club, was painted on the ivory lacquer. The name was perhaps unoriginal, but it perfectly stated their purpose. It was a club comprised of drivers of phaetons with two horses who raced to various locations.
Constantine looked to his pair of matched bays. They and the vehicle were his greatest pride, for this was the one activity he did for himself. His father hadn’t suggested or asserted it, but he did support it.
With a deep, fortifying breath, Constantine turned and went up the steps to the house. The duke’s stoic butler, Bender, greeted Constantine. “His Grace is in his study.”
There was rarely any chitchat with Bender even though he’d occupied this position all of Constantine’s life. Instead of just greeting him and walking past, Constantine asked, “How are you today, Bender?”
The lines around Bender’s blue-gray eyes creased more deeply, the only indication he had a reaction to the question. “The same as any day, my lord.”
“Then that’s well, I suppose.” Constantine handed the butler his hat and gloves before taking himself to his father’s study, moving more quickly than perhaps was necessary.
The door was open, which meant the duke would allow interruption. Still, Constantine stood at the threshold and cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Seated behind his massive oak desk, the duke looked up from the papers he was reading. He set down the magnifying glass he employed and sat back slightly in the chair. “Aldington, come in. I’m pleased to see you, since you are my only rational and capable offspring. Sit.”
It wasn’t an invitation but a command.
Constantine took a chair near the hearth instead of the one next to the desk. It was a minor grasp for independence, but one he liked to take from time to time. “Lucien and Cassandra are both rational and capable.”
“Your brother is a wastrel who squandered a promising military career, while your sister, who is arguably the prettiest young lady to grace Society in a number of years, has no suitors!” He slapped his hand on the desk to punctuate his frustration.
“As it happens, my errand today involves Cassandra. Lady Aldington has offered to take over as her sponsor, and I think it’s a capital idea.”
The duke’s mouth opened as he stared at Constantine for a moment. “No. That’s a terrible idea.”
Suddenly, the notion that the duke was somehow behind the countess’s return to town seemed utterly silly. Which meant she was acting entirely on her own. Constantine would contemplate that later. His father continued, “Lady Aldington is far too timid to assume that role. If she were a man, I’d call her a milksop.”
Constantine frowned, a mild display of the reaction he felt. What he wanted was to tell his father to shut his insulting mouth. “I find your description of my wife ironic given you insisted I marry her.”
“You are well aware that she had to be forced into it.” His father wiped his hand over his eyes. “I regret that I chose poorly for you.”
“Perhaps you should have let her cry off then,” Constantine said frigidly.
“And suffer the scandal of it?” The duke shook his head. “Never. Though, given that she hasn’t been able to provide an heir, perhaps I should have considered it.”