A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

“I thought you lost a year while you were in mourning and then another for half-mourning—”

“Yes, but I’ve had one Season. Last year. Mama was hoping for a match then.”

“So how are we alike? Tell me.” Rosalie pulled the last pin and shook her hair free with a soft moan of relief.

“I loathe the balls and parties. Perhaps not at first, but they soon became tedious. One is much like another. All the girls our age wax on and on of fashion and gossip. And the gentlemen . . .” She sighed, falling back on the settee edging Rosalie’s bed to gaze forlornly up at the ceiling. “Have you met a single one to stir your blood?”

Rosalie stared at Aurelia for a moment, caught off guard from her candid speech. But that was only part of her hesitation. She was a little surprised to find that this elegant young lady, brought up with all the polish and advantages afforded one of high birth, wanted something else. Something more.

Aurelia glanced her way. “Come now. Be truthful.”

Rosalie gave a nod, agreeing. “No. No, I have not. Not that I’ve spent much time with anyone besides Lord Strickland in the last week.”

Aurelia grimaced. “Indeed. He did close in rather quickly on you, didn’t he? You’re simply too nice.”

“Should I be impolite?” Rosalie demanded helplessly. “I can’t be caustic and sharp-tongued like—”

“Me?” Aurelia rolled to her side and pulled her knees to her chest, her pastel green skirts a pool around her as she faced Rosalie. The color did nothing for her friend’s olive-toned complexion. Sadly, it made her look mildly ill.

They fell into silence, each lost in their thoughts.

Aurelia bit her lip until she finally said with a heavy exhale, “I don’t suppose I can continue to behave that way either. Mama is at her end with me. She’s complained to my brother . . . he’s threatening to send me to live with my elderly Aunt Daphne in Scotland. Once there, I might as well give up all hope of ever . . .”

Her voice faded and Rosalie prodded, “Ever what?”

“Of ever experiencing adventure, love . . . a kiss that doesn’t make me want to wipe my mouth off afterward.”

Rosalie sat up anxiously. “Someone kissed you?”

“It happened last season. Archibald Lewis, the vicar’s son, isn’t that ironic? He snuck a kiss on me.” She wrinkled her nose. “It tasted of fish and soured milk. Wretched experience. But that’s beside the point.” She fluttered a hand. Rosalie nodded, feeling a bit dizzy in her attempt to follow. “Wouldn’t you want to know what a kiss felt like from someone who knew how to kiss? And isn’t old enough to be our father? And doesn’t look like the back end of a mule?

“Er, well. Yes.”

“Me, too.” Aurelia punched a fist into her palm. “It’s simply not fair that my brother and Dec and that boor Camden can sow their oats to their hearts’ content while we must wither on the vine, waiting to be plucked up by an eligible gentleman.”

Rosalie shook her head. “But what can we do about it?”

Aurelia gestured wildly. “Something. Anything!” Her arms flopped at her sides. “If I’m to be sent to rusticate with Aunt Daphne until I’m old and dead, then I should blasted well live a little first.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial pitch. “We should go to Sodom.”

“Sodom? As in Sodom and Gomorrah? From the Bible?” Rosalie frowned, not sure if this was some tonnish expression she had yet to learn.

“It’s a private club host to all manner of illicit activity.”

Illicit activity? Her cheeks warmed even though she was not entirely certain what that meant.

Aurelia continued, “I’ve overheard Dec speak of it with Camden.” She sat up on the settee, apparently warming to the subject. “You must be a member. Or get an invitation from a member.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I’m sure no such invitation would be forthcoming from Dec.”

Rosalie snorted, imagining her stepbrother’s face if Aurelia approached him with such a request. “No. I imagine not.”

“So we would have to secure memberships for ourselves. I’ve enough pin money set aside. I don’t know the cost, but I’m sure we could manage some manner of temporary membership that—”

“Aurelia,” Rosalie broke in. “Slow down a moment. You cannot be serious. Ladies of repute cannot attend such a—”

“I’m certain they do!” Aurelia nodded doggedly. “Wearing dominos, with no threat of discovery, why ever not?”

Rosalie stared at her, trying to process what she was suggesting and come up with a reason why this was the worst idea in the history of terrible ideas. She only arrived at: “You are serious.”

Aurelia nodded. “I am quite serious.” She scooted closer on the great big bed, her brown eyes luminous. “Will you not join me?”

“I—I—”

“Do you not crave a taste of adventure before you marry the likes of Lord Strickland?”

“I’m not marrying Lord Strickland,” Rosalie was quick to object.

Aurelia sank back on the settee with an arch of her dark eyebrow, flopping her arm onto the bed where Rosalie’s skirts pooled. She toyed with the pink fabric. “Indeed,” she said mildly. “You’re not? You’re certain of this?” A decided glint entered her brown eyes.

Rosalie sat up a little straighter, crossing her legs beneath her voluminous skirts. “I think I would know who I will and won’t marry.”

Aurelia made a humming sound and crossed her arms over her chest. “I heard Strickland mention to Mama that he wished to call on Dec.”

Rosalie said nothing for several moments as she processed this. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with me—”

Now Aurelia snorted. “It has everything to do with you. Did you think Mama and Dec were merely planning your social calendar for you? Oh, Rosalie,” she tsked, and shook her head. “They’re planning your life . . . right down to the groom.”

Rosalie inhaled sharply through her nose. “You’re mistaken.”

Aurelia gave her a pitying look that seemed to say, We shall see.

Rosalie shook her head, a sick feeling starting in her stomach as she watched her companion rise from the bed and smooth down her skirts. “If you say so. Meanwhile, if you change your mind . . . I’m sure I can get us inside Sodom.”

“Thank you, but I don’t think so.”

Aurelia groaned. “Oh, very well. I shall die a dusty old spinster with only the memory of Archibald Lewis’s kiss to comfort me.”

Rosalie fought down a grin. Aurelia was nothing if not entertaining. “Dusty and old are not words that come to mind in association with you. I doubt you’ll behave old even when you are.”

“Very well.” Turning, she held up her hand and fluttered her fingers. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Rosalie murmured, rising to her feet as her maid entered the room, bypassing Aurelia.

She moved to stand before the mirror, gazing at her reflection as Sally moved behind her and began unhooking the tiny buttons on her gown.

“Good evening, miss,” the maid said. “Have a nice time tonight?”

“Yes, Sally, thank you.”

“You look lovely in this pink gown . . . so brilliant with your hair.”

“Thank you, Sally.”