Amy Rose Bennett - How to Catch a Wicked Viscount

Disreputable Debutantes in the making!

A shocking scandal of epic proportions at a certain London school for Young Ladies of Good Character shakes the ton.

Does your genteel daughter attend such a den of iniquity? Read on to discover ten things one should consider when choosing a reputable academy...

The Beau Monde Mirror: The Society Page

Mrs. Rathbones Academy for Young Ladies of Good Character, Knightsbridge, London

Midnight, February 3, 1815

Heavens. Take care, Charlie. Sophie Brightwell winced as her friend entered her bedroom and carelessly pushed the door shut with her slippered foot. The resultant bang was decidedly too loud in the relative silence of the dormitory wing of the Hans Place town house. Youll wake Mrs. Rathbone for sure. If she finds out what were up to... Sophie couldnt suppress a shiver.

Lady Charlotte Hastingsor Charlie to her friendsthrew her a disarming smile as she deposited a large bandbox of contraband and a battered leather satchel on the end of the single bed. Dont worry so, darling Sophie, she said as she untied the black satin ribbon securing the boxs lid with a flourish. I just passed her bedchamber and she was snoring like a hold full of drunken sailors.

Arabella Jardine, who was perched on the edge of a bedside armchair, pushed her honey-gold curls behind her ears and then smoothed her robe over her night rail. Aye, tis true, Sophie, she agreed in her soft Scots burr. I suspect shes been into the sherry again.

Sophie pressed her lips together to suppress a small sigh. Even though she loved Charlie like a sister, the earls daughter didnt have as much to lose as she did, or indeed their other two partners in crime this nightOlivia de Vere and Arabellaif they were caught flouting the young ladies academys strict rules. So while it was quite true that Mrs. Agatha Rathbone, the apparently upstanding, middle-aged headmistress of her eponymous boarding school, was fond of a tippleor tenon Friday evenings, and nothing short of an earthquake or a herd of rampaging elephants was likely to rouse her, Sophie was still anxious about the whole idea of a midnight gatheringespecially because it was occurring in the room she shared with Olivia.

Sophies pulse leapt once more as the door opened again, this time admitting her roommate, bearing a tray of mismatched china teacups.

Ah, perfect timing, Miss de Vere, Charlie remarked as she lifted two dark glass bottles from the bandbox and brandished them in the air. So what poison will you choose, my lovelies? she asked, her topaz brown eyes dancing with merriment. French brandy or port?

Olivia carefully placed the tray on the cherrywood bedside table then tossed her dark braid over one slender shoulder. Wh-what do you r-recommend? I h-havent tried either one. Her manner of speech was an unusual combination of the lyrical and the discordant, her tone low and melodious with an appealing smokiness. Yet it was her stammer that drew attention; Sophie knew it tended to emerge when Olivia was nervous or extremely fatigued.

My grandfather let me try a wee sherry at Christmas, added Arabella. But Ive never tasted brandy or port wine.

Hmm. The port is probably a little smoother for unseasoned drinkers. But Ive heard my brother Nate say French brandy is excellent. Perhaps we should all begin with that. Charlie turned her bright gaze on Sophie. Wouldnt you agree?

Yes. A burst of curiosity overcoming her trepidation, Sophie leaned across the quilted counterpane to examine the jumbled contents of the box. So, what else have you smuggled in here?

An enigmatic smile tugged at the corner of Charlies mouth. Oh, this and that, she said as she passed the bottle of brandy to Olivia to dispense. All will be revealed after we raise our glassesor I should say cups?in a toast.