Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady. Bronwyn ScottЧитать онлайн книгу.
the reality. If she was discovered at any point, she would be brought back to London and forced to fulfil her uncle’s contract.
No, running away wasn’t a valid choice. Julia prided herself on being practical. If she was honest now, she had to admit that the prospect of successfully eluding Oswalt, who would most likely hire professionals to hunt her down, was a slim one indeed. She had learned much during her short time in London, but she had not learned enough to hide herself indefinitely, or at least until her twenty-fourth birthday, which marked the end of her uncle’s guardianship. Even then, she wasn’t certain being four and twenty would nullify her uncle’s contract with Oswalt.
She stood up and started pacing again. ‘Think, Julia, think. How do you get out of the contract?’ She mumbled to herself. She could use the 1823 legislation and marry another. Her uncle couldn’t stop her. She discarded that notion immediately. Where would she find a husband in five days who would be willing to risk marriage against a pre-existing contract?
A husband might be too ambitious on short notice, but one didn’t need a husband to be ruined. She could cast aspersions on her suitability. That option might work. A plan began to form.
There was a rout tonight at Lady Moffat’s. It would be well attended and many of the beaus who made up her court would be there. She would lure one of them out on to the terrace, coax a walk in the garden, flirt with him a bit and make sure they were found in a compromising situation.
Yes.
No.
Julia shook her head. The only way that would work would be if Oswalt cried off in the heat of his anger over being cuckolded before the ink dried on the contract. He might not care. He might not believe her and insist on the examination anyway and the physician would discover her hoax. The idea left too much to chance. Besides, even in her dire straits, she couldn’t lower herself to be like her uncle and use an innocent pawn in a deceitful game. She couldn’t countenance one of her swains being used so poorly at her whim.
She must be thoroughly ruined in order to ensure the contract would be void. She must be ruined tonight and back in the morning to prove it. Then Oswalt would be thwarted in a very final manner. Julia tapped a finger on her chin. How did one get ruined quickly?
There was prostitution, of course. She could saunter into Covent Garden and offer herself to the first man who came along. But that wasn’t much of an option. She knew from a stern lecture she’d accidentally over-heard Cousin Gray give his younger brothers about the importance of being selective in ‘satisfying their urges’ that people could get infected with sexually related diseases. Unfortunately, Gray had seen her before she could learn much more. But while all the nuances of catching such a disease were beyond her realm of knowledge, she didn’t think it was much of a trade to risk infection and what Gray had termed as ‘certain lingering death’ for being Oswalt’s enslaved wife. At least with Oswalt, there was the chance he would die soon. With the other, there was no chance of any redemption on the horizon.
Common prostitution might be out of the question, but the direction was correct. Julia turned at the wall and paced another length of the room, veering around the bed to the window. She’d also heard vague, scandalous references from her male cousins regarding brothels that held virgin auctions. That was a distinct possibility. She didn’t know precisely what such an event entailed, but she would definitely be compromised.
Julia’s stomach clenched and she experienced a wave of nausea at the import of what she meant to do. Could she go through with it? Could she give herself to an unknown man? Would that be any better than the indignities Oswalt’s proposal forced upon her?
The truth was, she found her options as abhorrent as marriage to Oswalt. It was positively terrifying to imagine the consequences of her choices. If she chose to run away, she’d be running away from a lot more than Oswalt. She’d be shut out of society for ever. No one would dare countenance a friendship with a woman who had done what she was contemplating. There would be no husband or children of her own in the future. Such action could not be erased. Her family would have nothing to do with her. After this, she would be irrevocably on her own.
She would be free. Entirely left to her own devices.
Julia sat down hard on the bed, momentarily stunned by the revelation. Freedom had suddenly become quite expensive. It was clear now that freedom would cost her more than embarrassment at a brothel and an uncomfortable confrontation with her uncle. Those things would be over in a week. But she would keep paying for the rest of her life, and life, the way she knew it, would be over for good.
Her life would be over for good with Oswalt, too. No matter what she chose to do, it was a certainty that everything was going to change irrevocably this week. She was at a crossroads whether she wanted this to be so or not. She wished Cousin Gray was here to talk things through with her. But Julia supposed she’d better get used to being alone and relying on no one but herself. It was going to be her lot in life. Today might be the last day she had to decide her fate. Would she put her faith in her own capabilities to make her way in the world or would she put herself into Oswalt’s hands?
Better the devil you know? Not this time. She would summon her courage and take matters into her own hands.
Resigned and more than a little bit frightened, Julia bit her lip and began to think through the only choice open to her. It would have to be the auction. In her mind’s eye, she could see her strategy unfolding.
She would convince her aunt and uncle that she was accepting, even glad of the decision they’d made on her behalf. She would call for the carriage and tell her aunt and uncle that she wanted to share the good news of her betrothal with her friend, Elise Farraday. Hmm. She’d better make sure of the weather first.
Julia drew aside the curtains at the window and peered outside. Good. The morning fog was clearing away to reveal a blue sky of late spring. The driver would believe her if she asked to be dropped a few streets from Elise’s home in order to walk and enjoy the lovely day. Then she would make her escape and wend her way through the streets to Covent Garden and from there to the finer brothels of London where she’d make her plea. By morning she would be ruined.
By a stranger.
In humiliating circumstances.
From which there would be no turning back.
It was a plan.
It was her only choice.
Only?
The word gave Julia pause. As a rule, she did not believe in dichotomous thinking. Life was far too complicated to narrow the world’s complexities into a mere two categories of black and white, yes and no, true or false, do or do not.
Was there another way? A more private way? Julia felt cowardly to even consider it, but perhaps there was a way to be ruined and to preserve discovery unless forced to reveal her fate beyond the confines of her uncle’s contract? If so, she’d much prefer it to the public exposure of an auction and the risk of someone recognising her, the risk of being revealed before the deed could be accomplished. The spark of a counter-plan flickered to life in the back of her mind and gathered impetus.
Another way.
Another man.
None of the young bucks that peopled her débutante’s court would qualify. Unbidden, there came to mind a blurred image of a man she had encountered once—she couldn’t use the word ‘met’ for she’d only seen him from a distance at a crowded rout one of her first nights out in London. But whispers about his presence had made the rounds of the ballroom readily enough and for once no one thought about editing their words in front of débutantes. Indeed, the opposite was nearly true. Mothers apparently felt their pristine daughters needed to know about the dangers this man posed.
He was Paine Ramsden, third son of an earl, known in less charitable circles as a dark rake with a reputation so black he could not be countenanced in polite society. Julia had learned quickly that he attended the rout solely as a favour to his aunt, the Dowager Marchioness of Bridgerton, Lily Branbourne, who insisted he was her favourite nephew, regardless of