“Oh, I say—” protested Lenninger.
Too late Retta remembered that Lenninger had close ties to Dorset’s family. But by now she had become decidedly provoked. She refused to back down. Nor had she quit pacing; she paused in front of Rebecca.
“Look, Rebecca. Your views and your interests have always been very different from mine. I am sorry to say that I have found the marriage mart sadly lacking in possible partners. For me, that is. It is true that I had offers, but most were extended because I am—as Melinda unnecessarily pointed out, and thanks to my maternal grandmother—very rich. What is more, on my birthday in February, I shall have sole control of my affairs. Why would I turn all that over to some fortune hunter?”
Rebecca sniffed. “You cannot appear in company on the arm of your fortune.”
Richard gave a low whistle. “Egad, Retta, you underestimate yourself. And you don’t think much of men, do you?”
She took an empty chair near him and patted his arm. “I like you well enough, little brother. But I am heartily tired of being seen in terms of all those pounds sterling that I will have one day. I daresay one could take any worker off the London docks, dress him appropriately, teach him to talk without a cockney or country accent, limit his discussions to horses, hounds, and gaming, and you’d have a splendid specimen of your typical gentleman of the ton.”
“Oh, ho! Did you hear that?” Lenninger asked of no one in particular.
“You do not really mean that, do you, Retta?” Gerald cautioned from where he still stood near the fireplace.
She lifted her chin. “Yes, I think I do.”
“You may be right,” Harriet said, “but it is a hypothetical proposition that cannot be proved.”
“Why not?” Rebecca challenged. “I should like to see you put that theory to the test, oh sister mine.”
“As would I,” her husband echoed.
“Hear! Hear!” Richard said with a grin.
Melinda squealed and clasped her hands together. “A wager!”
“Oh, Retta,” Hero and Harriet said in unison, shaking their heads.
“This is preposterous,” Gerald said, straightening his stance. “All of you, do stop teasing Retta and discuss something else. Ladies do not make wagers.”
“Spoilsport.” Melinda directed a small moue at him.
“She was the one who said it could be done,” Rebecca said. “Let us see if she can follow through on such a bizarre claim.”
“What would be the terms of such an arrangement?” Richard asked.
They were all silent for a moment: Gerald, Harriet, and Hero apprehensive; the sisters, Lenninger, and Richard clearly considering the possible terms of such a wager. Retta mentally kicked herself for allowing the matter to get out of hand, but she would certainly not back down now!
“I have it,” Rebecca announced. “If Lady Henrietta fails to transform her dockworker into a gentleman by her birthday, she will forfeit to me that black mare Papa gave her on her last birthday.”
Retta gritted her teeth. All her life, it seemed, she had endured Rebecca’s envy and covetousness. The countess had once forced Henrietta to give up her favorite doll to the pouting Rebecca. “Rebecca is just a little girl and you—” Later, it had been a ball gown that Retta had bespoken with a modiste. Nothing would do but that Rebecca should have one exactly like it, though in a different color, thus making Retta’s gown less special. Retta remembered the vicious whispers. “Oh, look, another set of Blakemoor twins. Are they not just too sweet?” And now Rebecca wanted her precious Moonstar? No. It could not happen.
But she found herself snapping, “And if I win?”
Rebecca laughed. “I doubt you would want my first born son. No, really—how about my emerald necklace and earbobs? They are worth far more than a horse.”
“I cannot believe any of you are taking this idea seriously,” Gerald protested. “If Father were here, he would forbid it. Neither Mother nor Uncle Alfred would consider it quite proper, either.”
“But they are not here, are they?” Rebecca said. She gestured at Retta. “If her ladyship truly thinks so little of English gentlemen that she can pass a commoner off as one of us, let her just try to do so. Perhaps she could present him at an assembly at Almack’s.”
“Almack’s!” Melinda hooted. “Oh, how delicious. Foisting some shabby man off on the patronesses of the ton’s most exclusive club! If you were found out, Retta, you would be barred from society forever.”
“Oh, Retta,” Harriet implored, “do not do this. You know how much you love that mare.”
“It is an improbable if not impossible task, my friend,” Hero warned.
“Well, if she wants to renege, we must allow her to do so,” Lenninger said slyly.
“Of course.” His bride smirked.
Retta was silent for a moment, wondering just how it was that she had underestimated all these years the full extent of Rebecca’s animosity towards her. Then she said, “All right. I shall do it. If nothing else, it should prove to be an interesting social experiment. Your emeralds against my mare.
She rose and extended her hand to the still seated Rebecca. They shook on it just as men might have done in Brooks’s or White’s or any other of London’s gentlemen’s clubs.
Chapter 2
There was long moment of silence as the seriousness of this whole idea sank in, then Richard said, “So just how do you intend to select the subject of this, uh, experiment?” His view of the situation seemed to have sobered as he rose to stand next to his brother, his hands clasped behind his back. “What kind of man would you choose? And how will you know who won?”
“He must be reasonably young,” Retta said, “and in good physical shape. Intelligent enough to play his part convincingly. If he fools any of the patronesses and other members of the ton for an entire evening, I will have won.”
“We shall simply go down to the docks tomorrow morning and find someone,” Rebecca said.
“The docks are no place for ladies,” Gerald said.
“We need not get out of the carriage,” Rebecca said, “and with you stalwart men to protect us, surely no harm could come to us.”
“I get final choice,” Retta said, asserting herself that much at least.
“Oh, no. You will be too persnickety,” Rebecca objected.
Richard offered the compromise. “How about this: We visit the docks. We choose, say, three possible candidates. Then Rebecca has final choice from among our three. Gerald and Retta will then interview the man. If Retta accepts him, the wager is set. If she rejects him, we choose another three for Rebecca’s choice.”
Rebecca folded her arms across her chest. “How many times must we do this before she is required to forfeit?”
“Until you select a suitable specimen,” Retta retorted.
“I should think no more than three times would be needed,” Gerald said.
“Well . . . all right then,” Rebecca said grudgingly.
“The point is,” Richard emphasized, “the choice will be yours, Rebecca. You cannot come back, when all is said and done, and cry ‘foul’ for any reason.”
Rebecca glared at her brothers. “You two always take her side.”
Richard rolled his eyes.
Retta said