Free To Sin With A Stranger by Kathryn Caskie Page A

intimate affair it had always been in the past.
    Gleaming carriages jammed Hanover Square, packing it as tightly as a pricked sausage casing, extruding their gaily dressed passengers through narrow gaps where they might, between horse teams and vehicles, allowing them to flow onto the pavers and into Partridge House.
    Sir Rupert Whitebeard, who didn’t give a tail flick for appearances, instructed his footman to dispatch their party where they were on George Street, and he, Christiana, Isobel, and her father would hoof their way to Partridge House rather than spending the entire evening waiting inside a carriage that was not going anywhere.
    Though the night was chilly for spring, Isobel saw that every window in Partridge House had been thrown wide. Three young misses were leaning out one of the upper windows, laughing loudly, and gleefully using their splayed fans to draw cool air into the crowded room.
    Isobel tightened her hold around Christiana’s arm. “I do not have a good feeling about this. The house has never been this crowded.”
    “I am sure the dressmaker simply told a few patrons that yours was the most glorious gown she’d ever stitched, and everyone must come to see it for themselves. No debutante could wear that color…or that daring neckline.” Christiana laughed, but Isobel would have none of her levity this evening.
    She knew better. She knew why the house swelled with the upper ranks of Society. They were there to see her. And him. The common miss and the Scottish marquess, whose possible romance had become the most discussed topic in all of London—at least so wrote the
Times
. The idea was ludicrous. The country was at war, for heaven’s sake. Men were dying! Isobel stopped abruptly and stared at Partridge House. A shudder shook her.
    Oh God
. Why had she ever believed she could do this? She fought the urge to spin around and run back to the carriage.
    Then, inside her head, she heard the answer oh-so-quietly.
    For your brother.
    For the lost husbands, lovers, and sons.
    She sucked down a deep breath of cool air, and listened with her heart.
    For the widows of our soldiers.
    For their children.
    Yes. She could do it. She could. She must. Whom else could they turn to when they were in need? Only her.
    Isobel pulled Christiana close so that their two fathers, who walked solemnly and slowly behind them, would not overhear her plan to coax a few guineas from every prosperous family inside the house. “I will need your assistance this night, Christiana.”
    “With what, avoiding that handsome Scottish marquess of yours?” Christiana whispered back.
    “Not at all. I fully intend to engage Lord Blackburn, while drawing as much attention from the
ton
as I might.” Though she tried to restrain any outward reaction that might call her father’s notice, the right side of her mouth twitched and lifted upward.
    Christiana’s eyes grew as round and bright as the full moon above. She stopped walking. “Whatever do you mean?”
    Startled her father might see Christiana’s delay, Isobel tugged her along. “The moon does seem to be shining directly upon Partridge House, Christiana. Look at that,” she exclaimed, before lowering her voice to a confidential tone again. “You mayn’t believe it, but I wish for as many people tonight to become interested in the wager as possible.”
    “Do you take me for a fool? I do not believe it for one instant. No one would ever wish such a thing upon herself.” Christiana was still staring at Isobel as they walked.
    “You have to stop peering at me that way. My father will get the notion that I am meaning to cause mischief—and I am not. What I am about to do this night is for the widows and orphans.”
    “Lud, Issy, what is it that you are going to do?”
    Christiana pressed her hand to her side. “Your teasing is making my breath come so hard that my corset is creaking. Please, do tell me now and end my suspense.”
    Isobel shot a hunted glance over her