She simply had to tell Cleo what she’d done. She was rather glad her friend received her in the wood-paneled library of the Hastings’s townhouse and did not suggest refreshments. Eloise’s hands were shaking so hard she was certain she’d never be able to hold a cup of tea. “I must be mad,” she told her friend as they sat on the heavy wooden chairs the library boasted. “But I find myself actually enjoying the thought of tormenting him.” “I think your choice was inspired,” Cleo assured her, brown eyes glinting with malice. “We’ve both heard rumors of the number of ladies he has wronged. Tomorrow you strike a blow not only for yourself but all of them as well. If only I knew their names, I’d issue personal invitations.” Eloise couldn’t help but giggle at that. “We might even sell tickets and donate the money to Comfort House.” Cleo clapped her hands. “No, I have one better: we could enter a wager in the betting books at White’s on his ability to complete your tests.
