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PROLOGUE
London, England
“Lady Rumpton, where are you taking me?” Sophia lifted her head and brushed back the loose locks of her chestnut hair from her cheeks, peering out of the carriage window and into the thick darkness. “Thishardly seems like the way to Almack’s Assembly Rooms.”
“Ha! We are hardly going anywhere so traditional. Now you are a widow, you shall see that there is more freedom to be had in where you choose to go in an evening.” Lady Rumpton sat forward from her place on the opposite side of the carriage, her countenance so enthusiastic that her cheeks were rosy, even in the dim candlelight. “Before we go any further though, there is something we must change.”
“What is that?” Sophia asked, sitting back and looking at her new friend.
“No more ‘My Lady’ or ‘Lady Rumpton.” With these words, Lady Rumpton moved across the carriage and sat beside Sophia. “If we are to be true friends, and as I am about to share my secrets with you, then it is high time you call me Rachel.”
“Truly?” Sophia couldn’t stop the amused smile spreading across her face.
“You look ready to laugh, dear,” Rachel said, gesturing to Sophia’s face in amusement.
“It is just that I have been told for so long I must address people by their titles. Good Lord, to think of my husband’s response if he were to ever hear me address a marchioness by her Christian name!”
“He cannot hear you now, can he?” Rachel said, her smile still beaming. “You have done your grieving, and the time has come for you to take your place in the world again. Even if that means bending your old husband’s rules a little.” She added the latter sentence in a conspiratorial whisper, as if it was a scandalous thing to utter.
Sophia laughed once again, just as the carriage came to a jolting halt. Turning her head to peer beyond the window, she could see nothing except streaked lantern light, and cobblestones that gleamed with the day’s rain still speckled on their surface.
“Well, you have me intrigued, My Lad…” Sophia broke off when she saw Rachel lifting her fair eyebrows in her direction. “Rachel,” she hastily corrected herself. “Where exactly have you brought me?”
“I thought for your first night of freedom, away from that rather careful eye of your brother-in-law,thiswould be the perfect place.” She reached for the carriage door and opened it without waiting for the footman to do it for her and jumped down. Sophia rushed to follow, climbing down too and holding her paisley shawl tighter around her shoulders.
There was a chill in the air tonight, one that bristled at her exposed neck and teased the loose locks of her hair. As Sophia turned her head back and forth, all she could see was a darkened building, with very few hints of what was inside.
“You are keeping secrets,” she whispered to her friend as Rachel offered her arm to her. “Tell me, are we at some seedy house in Soho? Or a theatre where we shall have to wear masks to hide out identities?”
“All grand ideas, but something tells me you will enjoy this a little more.” Rachel waved a hand at the footman who attempted to follow them into the building, clearly showing what she thought of his advances. He scurried back on instruction, leaving Rachel to hold the door open for Sophia with a bold smile, curving her pink lips. “Men are not permitted here. This isourplace,” she whispered, so only Sophia could hear her.
Rather thrilled by the prospect, Sophia stepped in through the door and into a candlelit corridor.
For so long, Sophia felt as if she had been in a man’s world. She went from her father’s house to her husband’s house, doing as she was told, the perfect ‘proper lady’; that at least was what her father would have called her. Now, her late husband, the last Earl of Elkins, was no longer around to watch over her shoulder and tell her how to act. He was not standing by her side, quelling her wish to dance or have another glass of sparkling wine.
There are no rules now… No men to give instructions.
Sophia breathed deeply as she followed Rachel through the corridors, their only sounds the brushing of their chiffon and silk skirts as they hurried. At the end of the corridor, Rachel paused with her hand on a gilt door handle.
“Be prepared, Sophia,” Rachel said dramatically. “It might surprise you what I am about to reveal.” With these words, the door was opened.
Sophia stepped forward. First, she was struck by the sheer amount of candlelight in the room, then her eyes adjusted to that yellow glare. The grand hall was full of women. They were all sat at circular tables or standing around with glasses of wine and port in their hands.
One table was full of decks of cards, and the women were wagering on their hands, piling their betting chips high. At another table, women were exchanging papers bearing sketches, discussing art and drawing to such an extent that their passion was plain in the redness of their cheeks. At another table, politics was discussed. Each woman gave a view and the others responded, passing round bowl-shaped glasses of brandy and offering pipes for smoking.
“Smoking? Gambling? Politics?” Sophia saw it all as she wandered forward, her head turning back and forth so fast that she cricked her neck. “If my husband ever saw all of this…”
“He cannot see it, remember?” Rachel followed her in with glee in her tone. “Welcome to a world free of men, my dear. There is no man here to tell us we cannot smoke, or gamble, or talk politics. We can do as we like.” With these words, Rachel took Sophia’s hand and led her across the room. They headed toward another table entirely where women were sat together, their heads bent toward one another in whispers. “Allow me to introduce you to my favorite table.”
“What is discussed here?” Sophia whispered, just as she overheard some giggles from some of the ladies. Some of the ladies blushed so strongly at what had been discussed, that it became evident it was of a suggestive nature.
“Here we discuss perhaps the thing that was forbidden most to us by our husbands. Here, we talk of lovers.”
“Lovers!?” Sophia nearly dropped the glass of sparkling wine that was placed into her hand.
“Of course. Oh, you are an innocent, Sophia, look at that blush on your face.” Rachel urged Sophia to take a sip of the wine. “Have you truly never thought of it?”
Of taking a lover?
Sophia’s wrinkled nose seemed to answer the question without words, prompting her new friend to laugh heartily.
“I see you have not yet experienced a good night in a man’s arms. Perhaps that should be your first experience now you are a widow. To take a lover.”
Could I?
As Sophia looked around the room, she began to feel a surge of excitement. Nothing was out of bounds here, and nothing was frowned upon.
Maybe I could…
