Harry would have to wait longer than any other bachelor to see how his companion fared. But he had faith in her—he’d seen her perform “Kubla Khan.” He took a thoughtful sip from his flask and thought that victory might very well be the last thing they’d share, he and Molly. But the thought didn’t buoy him as he expected it should.

Behind the curtain shielding the makeshift dressing area, Molly and the other mistresses were frozen in place, staring at the tree branch that held the women’s special evening gowns. Someone had slashed through Molly’s, apparently with a knife. The skirt hung in tatters, and there was a gaping hole in the bodice and one on the lower back.

“No,” she whispered.

“Oh, Delilah!” Bunny put her hand to her mouth.

Hildur held up the ruined gown and looked through one of the jagged holes. “It is a fishnet now.”

“I know it was Sir Richard,” Molly said without emotion. She’d known all along Sir Richard was after her. And now he’d made his mark.

Bunny’s eyes were wide. “I saw him over here earlier. But I thought he was simply being nosy, as he always is.”

“He hates me,” Molly said flatly.

Bunny squeezed her hand.

“He hates everyone,” Athena said, her eyebrow raised in a weary arch. “But he does seem to hate Lord Harry especially.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” Joan put an arm around Molly’s shoulder. “He thinks he’s a coward. But we all know Lord Harry is worth a thousand Sir Richards. I don’t care what people say about his army disgrace.”

“Do you know what happened there, Delilah?” Athena asked her.

Molly’s face reddened. She couldn’t tell any of them why Sir Richard hated Harry. Or that Harry was innocent of all accusations. “No,” she said. “But I know Harry. And he is a good man. He’s told me he’s done nothing to hurt Sir Richard, and I believe him.”

“We kill Sir Richard,” Hildur said. “Right now.” She pulled Molly toward the curtain.

“No,” said Athena firmly. “Not now. The show must go on. Kill him later.”

Hildur hesitated, and Molly released her hand. “Thank you”—she smiled at Hildur, then looked at Athena—“but you’re right. The show must go on. And I can wear the gown I have on now.”

It was the bishop’s blue muslin, the first dress of Fiona’s she’d ever worn. She’d donned it this afternoon especially for Harry, a parting gift to him. Because after tonight, he wouldn’t see her in scandalous gowns anymore! He’d be married to Anne Riordan, and Molly would be on the shelf, still pouring out tea for Cousin Augusta.

Or he’d be carousing about London with not a care in the world, the winner of the Impossible Bachelors wager—and if not that, at least one of the losing bachelors who’d slipped past parson’s noose by drawing a saving straw at the end of the bet.

She’d be without Harry, of course. Either way. And wearing modest gowns as the years passed and this week’s contest became a distant memory.

She bit her lip. She must stay focused on what was happening now. Not depressing thoughts of the future.

“I know this is probably a silly question, but is the gown at all fixable, Bunny?” Joan asked.

“No, not even if I were near my sewing box.” Bunny looked sadly at Molly. Then she gazed around at the others. “But I have an idea. And if you’re willing to go along with it, Delilah will have as much a chance as any of us to win the finale.”

“Then let’s do it,” said Athena.

Bunny’s face lit up. “I’ll be right back.” And she lifted up her gown and ran to the men. When she reappeared a minute later, she said, “I brought something that will allow us to remove beauty from the criteria for judging.” Her eyes sparkled. “Or, depending on your perspective—that is, if you’re a male—we might use this tool to accentuate our beauty.”

She opened her palms to reveal three small knives. “Every man had one on his person, of course. I brought several back and told them some of us needed to clean our fingernails and teeth.” She giggled.

“None of them particularly enjoyed hearing that, I’m sure,” said Joan with a grin.

Bunny nodded. “Sir Richard was the most horrified of all. I think it’s because he could see from my expression that I knew exactly what he’d done to Delilah’s gown.”

“And that we kill him with these knives,” said Hildur between gritted teeth.

Molly laid a hand on her arm. “It’s all right to hate him on my behalf, but I really don’t think we have to, um, kill him.”

Hildur’s shoulders sagged.

“We can cope with this ourselves in the way women do, Hildur,” said Bunny. “We shall simply outsmart Sir Richard.”

“Yes,” said Joan, her eyes bright with interest. “Are you proposing what I’m thinking you’re proposing with these knives?”

“I think she is,” said Athena. “And I do believe she’s brilliant!”

“You mean—” Hildur made a cutting motion with her hand. “To my dress. And yours.”

Bunny nodded, her mouth curved in a mischievous smile.

“Goodness, no!” Molly blurted out. “I couldn’t ask that of any of you.” She laid a hand on Bunny’s arm. “Thank you so much for the thought. But…no. I can wear what I have on.”

“But Delilah,” exclaimed Bunny in the most impassioned voice Molly had ever heard her use, “Lovely as you appear, your gown isn’t nearly as splendid as these creations made by Prinny’s orders! I want us to match, all of us.” Bunny’s eyes grew a bit shiny, and she looked around at all the women. “I haven’t known any of you longer than this week, but I—I feel like we’re sort of…sisters. And—”

“And sisters, on special occasions, wear matching dresses,” interjected Athena.

“Exactly,” replied Bunny. “We shall all be almost naked…together.”

“And no one mistress will look better than the other,” said Joan.

“They’ll be driven mad with indecision.” Athena laughed.

“So many tits to choose from!” Hildur threw her arms wide.

Molly chuckled and wiped her eyes. “You’re too kind. All of you.”

She’d feel special romping about near-naked with these suddenly dear friends—Athena, Joan, Hildur, and Bunny. They were going to ruin their gowns on purpose—to help her.

One of their own.

Molly got a lump in her throat. Maybe she wasn’t a real mistress, but she’d been included in their number, and it felt like the highest honor. She would miss them all deeply, she thought, as she hugged each of them separately, saving Bunny for last.

Because Bunny was her very special friend.

Chapter 35

The men were getting impatient. It was taking longer for the ladies to get ready than they’d anticipated, so they lit more cheroots and drank more brandy.

Sir Richard leaned over to Harry. “I still believe something’s not quite right with you and Delilah, Traemore, and I shan’t give up trying to find out.” He’d spoken loud enough for all the men to hear.

Now that Harry knew why Sir Richard disliked him more than he disliked everyone else, he tried to be—maybe not completely kind, but kinder. Especially as he was still not at liberty to divulge the truth to Bell about what had really happened to his sister.

“Try all you want, “Harry told him. “I couldn’t give a fig, to tell the truth. Would you like a light for that cheroot?”

“No.” Sir Richard scowled. “Not from you.”

“Do you really think any of us will be inclined to wish you good luck tonight when you are such a horse’s ass, Bell?” said Maxwell, blowing a smoke ring in his direction.

“I don’t need your good wishes,” Sir Richard replied. “You are obligated by oath to choose the best mistress tonight. I know how honorable you gentlemen are. You won’t allow personal differences to stand in the way of fairness.”

“If you mean we won’t let Bunny pay the price for your shortcomings, then I suppose you’re right,” said Arrow.

“See?” said Sir Richard. “I can count on you fools to be sickeningly honest in your assessments of the women.”

“We most definitely can’t count on you to do the same,” stated Lumley.

“An Impossible Bachelor stops at nothing to retain his lofty status as a man among men,” said Sir Richard. “My tactics are perfectly unexceptional and, sadly for you dolts, unidentifiable. They shall remain locked in the vault of my brain, only to be shared perhaps with the occasional by-blow who might seek advice about how to avoid the parson’s mousetrap.”

“Advice which includes ensnaring respectable virgins and seducing them,” said Arrow, “then threatening to deny everything if they dare tell their mamas how you crawled through their windows past midnight to deflower them.”

“And you object to that sort of thing?” Sir Richard said in that world-weary voice of his.

Harry stamped out his cheroot. Sir Richard was an enigma. He was angry because he was sure Harry had seduced his sister, yet his whole adult life he’d prided himself on seducing everyone else’s sisters.

“I object to any young lady being taken advantage of, Bell,” said Harry.

“I don’t believe that,” Sir Richard growled. “Your history says otherwise. Prove it by marrying one of those young ladies, Traemore. I’ll be laughing from the back of the church.”

Ouch. Harry knew he should marry Molly, shouldn’t he? He was suddenly unable to think of a single retort.

Lumley filled in for him. “Don’t be so sure you won’t be the one at the altar, Bell.”

Bunny came to the curtain and announced that the ladies were ready.

Harry stood, vowing not to let Sir Richard disturb his equanimity again tonight. Facing the other bachelors, he held up an envelope. “Tonight we come to our last competition. According to Prinny’s wishes, the women will perform dramatic readings they’ve selected themselves. I’ve a note from His Royal Highness that I must read aloud to you.”