Page 3 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

“You are always kind,” Lucy groaned and gave her a grimace of exasperation.

Even Amy rolled her eyes at this, albeit playfully, and carefully wrote her resolution.

“And I resolve…” Lucy tossed back another gulp of brandy with barely a wince this time.

“To be as wicked as possible,” they all finished for her in chorus.

Elizabeth laughed aloud and the other three girls joined her.

Lucy blinked in surprise, mock offense showing dramatically on her features. “Apparently I ought to resolve to be less predictable.”

Elizabeth grinned at her friend, loving seeing her boldness in its full glory. “Don’t you dare. We’d be at a loss as to what to do with you.”

Lucy gave a throaty laugh and drank from the bottle again.

Elizabeth glanced toward Hannah as Lucy wrote her resolution in the journal.

A look of apprehension crossed Hannah’s face, and she sighed. “To be more patient.”

“Isn’t that what you tried last year?” Amy asked gently.

Lucy scoffed. “And only made it a week last year, if I recall.”

Hannah wrinkled her nose. “To be fair, patience does take a while.” Twisting her lips to the side, she took the book from Lucy and began to write in a slow, careful, evidently patient script.

As they’d all given their resolutions, Jillian was clearly next.

Elizabeth sat a little straighter in anticipation. One never knew what to expect with Lady Jillian Jennings. The only girl of five children, spoiled to a fault as a child, and then the reins tightened on every aspect of her life once she was old enough to declare she wanted to be an artist instead of an earl’s daughter. As a result of such freedom, followed by such restraint, with a head filled with dreams and feet that refused to stay on the ground, she was perfectly unpredictable.

“I resolve…” She swept her finger over the page as if she expected magic to secret her the answer. “To never wed.”

The girls all sucked in a breath. Well, except Lucy, who simply smirked.

Surely they had not heard correctly. Elizabeth gaped at Jillian. “What?”

“What if none of us ever wed?” Jillian’s chin lifted slightly, and she got that dreamy look on her face like when an idea struck her. “We wouldn’t have to cede ourselves or our property to a man, we wouldn’t be forced into an uncomfortable match.”

“I don’t want to wed either,” Lucy said firmly, her resolution thrown into the group like betting chips in a card game.

“Perhaps we could all live on a country estate together when we become spinsters and our parents have given up on us,” Jillian mused. “And we can make the ballroom into an extra library, stacked to the ceiling with books.”

Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. An extra library. Stacked to the ceiling with books. And no obligation to think of. Just day after glorious day in the country with no balls to attend or dinners to fret over. No stiff, uncomfortable gowns she had to worry about staining, or men she would have to parade in front of to impress while hoping not to trip. Just Elizabeth and books and the idea of reading uninterrupted for days, weeks, months, years on end.

And maybe they could even have a music room where they could host their own concerts. After all, Jillian did play the most exquisite harp, and Elizabeth had always wanted to learn the flute.

“I shouldn’t like to wed, either.” Hannah grabbed the bottle from Lucy and slugged back a drink, as if sealing the pledge with the burn of alcohol.

A smile brightened Jillian’s face as she wrote on a fresh page—The Vow of the Wallflowers, with the ‘s’ blooming into a perfectly drawn rose. She signed, then passed the journal to Lucy who did likewise, and then on to Hannah.

Elizabeth nearly grabbed the book, but hesitated.

She had two younger sisters, both of whom would need to see Elizabeth married before their own chances for unions could be considered. But the thought of meeting men, worrying about treading on their feet or falling on the dance floor, of humiliating someone by spilling something on herself—or worse, on them—it was all too much.

She would never be good enough for love—why bother even trying?

“No man wants a wife who trips over air.” Elizabeth pushed aside her doubt and reached for the book. “And I should love a music room filled with every instrument I could play regardless of the time.” She gave a firm nod. “I’m in too.”

It wasn’t until after Elizabeth signed the book that she considered Amy.