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B y the time Tiffany arrived in the drawing room, all the members of the group, except newly married Serena, were present—Courtney, Ashleigh, Farah, Ivy, Valora, Lauren, plus Claire and herself. She had each of their investment records in her hand, thanks to her visit to Mr. Sprat this morning, and she walked round the table giving each woman her copy.

Last year they had set up the Sisterhood as an investment group, after Serena and Claire discovered Tiffany had been investing a portion of her allowance each quarter for years so she could have a better future. Claire had laughed at her in the beginning, while Serena loved the idea of a woman having financial freedom. Then they saw the returns Tiffany was making and asked her to invest some of their allowance too. Claire mentioned Tiffany’s skills to Valora, Serena mentioned it to Lauren, and soon all the girls wanted Tiffany’s help, and the DD was born. To most of them it was a bit of fun. A secret scandalous pastime.

“Oh, my goodness! Look at my balance. You really are a miracle worker, Tiffany. Thank you, darling.”

Tiffany beamed at Courtney’s praise. Lady Courtney Montague was the sister of Lord Ashley Montague, Viscount Milburn, eldest son and heir to the Marquess of Lorne. At four and twenty, Courtney, an auburn-haired beauty, was the eldest of the group. Five years ago, her fiancé, an officer in the army, had gone missing after the Irish Rebellion. As theirs had been a love match, Courtney refused to marry anyone else. She still loved her fiancé deeply, and was investing money for the same reason as Tiffany. They both wanted the freedom from their family to live as they pleased.

Valora barely glanced at her sheet, but then she had no reason to worry about money. Tiffany squeezed her shoulder as she went past.

Lady Farah Perrin also barely looked at the sheet. Tiffany suspected the sister of the Duke of Blackstone had no need to worry about money or marriage either. She was a shy girl with a ghostly complexion. At one and twenty, she simply loved being part of the group because Farah was an only daughter and valued the other girls’ friendships. Her brother, His Grace, was also a very formidable man. Farah struggled to assert her own wants within his household.

Ivy jumped to her feet and hugged her. “Thank you, Tiffany. I can finally hire an additional woman to teach at the orphanage.”

Tiffany loved Lady Ivy Ware, Wolf’s youngest sister. It was such a shame Tiffany was in love with her brother. That was the reason she rarely visited Ivy at her home. Two years younger than Tiffany, Ivy was one of those women who always thought of others before herself. Tall, dark-haired, with a creamy complexion, she surely would not remain unmarried for long. She was the patron of an orphanage on the outskirts of London. Wolf had tried to stop her, saying she was too young and na?ve, but for once she’d stood up to her “know-it-all-brother”. The orphanage was doing a fabulous job and Tiffany often went with her on her calls.

“You can have my dividends this quarter if you need them, sister dear,” Ashleigh said to Ivy. “Think of it as my contribution.”

Ivy blew her sister a kiss across the table. Ashleigh was the complete opposite of Ivy. Fair-haired like her mother, and somewhat cynical about life. But then she had a reason to be. She was three years older than Ivy, and just as beautiful…and she was officially on the shelf. There was some scandal in her past that none of the girls were privy to, or if they were, they’d never said a word. None of them cared. They loved Ashleigh, even if she did not mix in society as much as the debutantes. Ashleigh had joined the DD’s last. Tiffany suspected it was because she was bored. She always gave her money to Ivy. Perhaps she wanted to atone for her past lack of judgment.

Claire was busy issuing instructions for the staff to send more tea and keep her brother out of the drawing room. It was unlikely Fane would disturb them; Tiffany had heard him come in early this morning after carousing all night. He’d almost caught her slipping out. He’d unlikely rise before three.

Lady Lauren Cavanaugh, the eldest daughter of the Earl of Danvers, flashed Tiffany a pretty smile as she took her seat next to Lauren at the head of the table. Lauren’s red hair matched her temper, but Lauren rarely raised her voice within the DD. At home, to her father—that was a different story.

“Do you want to spend your dividend or reinvest it this quarter?” Tiffany asked her.

An expression of pain flashed so quickly across Lauren’s face, Tiffany almost missed it. “I will take my dividend, thank you.”

When her friend did not say more, Tiffany knew it meant her father had been gambling again. Her brother was Courtney’s lost fiancé. Lucien had been his father’s only son and Lord Danvers had not gotten over his death. He’d taken to drink and gambling. She patted Lauren’s hand.

At four and twenty, Lauren had resigned herself to spinsterhood. She had to hold the house together for her sister, Madeline, and their father. Madeline had just turned seventeen, and Lauren had pinned her hopes on making a good match for her sister. She was investing as much as she could to have the coin to give Madeline an appropriate come-out next season.

A servant placed food in front of Tiffany. Since she’d missed breakfast, she had to eat. Tiffany loved food and she was hungry. She wasn’t the thinnest of women and so she made an effort to never overindulge. For one, if she put on weight, she’d need a whole new wardrobe, and she hated wasting her money on frivolous things like clothes when what she had was more than adequate. She could wear the same gown to every ball for a week and no one would even notice.

Wolf had changed all of that. Bother.

Ashleigh spoke up. “I’d like to skin that brother of yours, Valora. Do you know that at the ball last night, he thought it was funny to introduce Horace Roberts to me, and I had to dance with the man.”

Oh, no. Lord Horace had four left feet and most women’s toes were bruised and battered by the time he’d finished.

“On top of the fact he bruised my feet, Horace insisted on walking me back to my mother’s side and he did not leave all night. Vale was laughing and waving at me as if it was a huge joke, while I had to behave like a proper lady and pretend to enjoy his company. I bet Horace turns up at my house today.” She slammed her hand on the table. “It was cruel. They both know I have to behave spotlessly.”

Claire piped up. “You’ll have to wait your turn. Valora wants to skin Vale too.” Claire elbowed Valora in her side. “Go on, tell them.”

Valora gave Tiffany a panicked look.

“Valora was telling us that she wanted to go to Mrs. Buchanan’s soiree. But Vale has forbidden her from attending.”

If a hatpin had fallen on the rug, it would have been heard throughout the room.

“I can top that,” Farah said. “His Grace has issued an order. I’m to allow Lord Franklin to take me for a turn in the park on Friday.” She looked at their confused faces. “If I go for a turn with Lord Franklin, everyone will assume I favor his attentions. My brother will not listen when I say we are not suited. He thinks I don’t know my own mind.”

“Sometimes I think I’m lucky that my father drowns his sorrows in a bottle and barely remembers I exist,” Lauren stated, and Tiffany had to agree. It was why she did not particularly want a husband. Children would be nice but not in a loveless marriage where she had no say in her life.

“You are lucky,” Farah enthused.

“I must admit, I’m starting to get very tired of men thinking they know what is best for us,” Courtney said.

Valora spoke over the murmur of agreement. “I think we should bring them down a peg or two. Or at least make them understand we are perfectly capable of making our own decisions. If I want to go to Mrs. Buchanan’s famous afternoon soiree, why shouldn’t I? What could be so scandalous about a garden party in the middle of the day?”

The silence indicated Valora’s question was one they all wanted answered. What were they missing out on?

“We need a plan for how to attend.” Claire looked at Courtney, then noticing her expression, she leaned back in her chair with a huge grin. “Courtney Montague, you have something to add?”

Courtney mirrored her friend’s smile. “Just a germ of an idea.”

Ivy giggled. “Share it.”

“I think we should make a game of it. Let’s each of us select one of our male tormentors’ names out of a hat, and in another hat, we can place ideas for how we could torment them and teach them a bit of humility. Then we each select one piece of parchment from each hat, giving us the deed and the name of the man to target. At the end we can reveal what we have done. That should make them realize we are women to be reckoned with.”

Lauren laughed. “Ooh, I like the sound of that. But what on earth could we do to them that would bring them to their knees?”

Claire sat forward. “I know for a fact that Fane is very vain. Perhaps we could place an order for the most ridiculous colored and decorated waistcoat, tell Prinny what it looks like and that Fane was getting it designed especially for his ball. Fane would be forced to wear it by royal command.”

“Forced to? I can’t see Fane being forced to do anything,” Tiffany said.

“What about making Vale take a swim in the pond in Hyde park?”

“How would you do that?” Farah asked.

“That’s up to the person who draws his name from the hat,” Courtney replied. “The person who draws the deed must work out how to achieve it.”

“Oh, His Grace has a reputation for the finest French brandy,” Farah said. “We could send a bottle to all his stuffy friends as a gift but water it down. He’d be mortified.”

Ashleigh seemed less than enthused. “How are these pranks supposed to make them take us seriously? We would be better doing something they respect.”

They all began to nod in agreement.

Tiffany spoke up. “I was thinking we should concentrate on our investments. Maybe we should issue the men a challenge. We make a higher return over the next twelve months and they leave us to make our own decisions in all aspects of our lives.”

“How can we help with that?” Valora wailed.

“You’re the investment brain,” added Lauren.

“You will all need to keep tabs on your brothers. What are they investing in? Who are they meeting with? We will have to work the social engagements and the lords in positions of power. We have to keep our eyes and ears open, searching for information and any investment that might give the men an advantage.”

“Are we not overlooking something? They have to agree. Why would they bother with us?”

All heads swiveled Ashleigh’s way.

Tiffany thought hard for a moment and considered her current wager with Wolf. But only the two of them were privy to the bet. “They won’t know it is us. We shall issue an anonymous challenge. The winner takes all of what either party earned that year. If I know Fane, Vale, and Wolf, which I do, they won’t be able to resist, nor will the others.”

“I love this idea.” Claire laughed and clapped her hands. “Can you imagine. The men will hate not knowing who their challenger is.”

Tiffany gave a sly smile. “They may spend more time on trying to find out who has challenged them than on the investing. The men would never suspect a group of young debutantes who are so helpless, they can’t even choose who they should allow to escort them for a turn in the park.”

“Brilliant,” Farah said, clapping her hands. “And if we do all the pranks as well, they’ll never connect us to the brilliant investor. I really would love to see my brother embarrassed.”

“It all sounds heavenly,” Ashleigh stated. She looked directly at Tiffany. “But can we beat them?”

There was the rub. Tiffany was good but so were the men. They had paid investment advisers too. She had Mr. Sprat, and she could call on him as well. She wanted to do this. She wanted to prove herself. Plus, if they won, her share would give her financial security for the rest of her life. She would gain her independence and not have to rely on charity any more, nor would she be forced into a marriage of convenience with Wolf.

It was about time the men in their lives realized that the ladies were a force to be reckoned with. Some a woman wanted more than a life of fluttering her fan and batting her eyelashes trying to attract a man.

She already had a wager with Wolf. Could she out-earn him on one investment in a month? She’d wager her life on the fact that she could make more money in twelve months than he could. But could she make more than all of them combined? Even the brilliant Fane?

“They will be hard to beat. But even if we lose, won’t they be impressed at what we did achieve and that we fooled them?”

“Impressed? Maybe. Angry and humiliated, definitely,” Claire said.

“Well, that means I’m in,” said Ivy.

One by one the eight DD members agreed to the plan.

“I’m doing the investing,” Tiffany said, “so you ladies can think up the pranks. Remember, this is not only about the pranks. You have to learn what is going on in your brothers’ investments as well as anyone else’s. Most men don’t remember to hold their tongues around women. We are brainless idiots who cannot possibly understand what they are talking about.”

Before anyone could answer, a loud masculine voice came from the entrance hall. Tiffany looked across at Claire, who frowned and began to rise just as the door flew open.

A man stepped into the room, and Tiffany’s heart did that annoying little flip it always did whenever she clapped eyes on Wolf.

His deep burgundy jacket fitted him like a new glove and showed off his broad shoulders to perfection. He was dressed for riding and his Hessians somehow emphasized his powerful thighs.

She noted every inch of him, and her skin prickled with heat as she realized his gaze was taking in every inch of her.

“I see Lady Claire has rallied her troops once more. What on earth are you ladies discussing with such vigor? The latest French fashions perhaps?” His gaze swept across the group. “A few new dresses might not go amiss.”

As usual in Wolf’s presence, Tiffany’s tongue would not function and she could not think of a scathing retort.

Valora did it for her. “We were discussing what we would wear to Mrs. Buchanan’s soiree. Perhaps a different wardrobe would make us blend in better.”

For one fleeting moment, the big bad wolf’s face showed fear. “Very funny, Miss Valora. Vale has forbidden you from attending. I’m sure once I reveal this ridiculous plan to Marlowe, he’ll do the same to you two,” he said, pointing at Tiffany and Claire.

“Then run along and tattle to Marlowe. Don’t let the door hit you on your conceited arse on the way out,” his sister Ashleigh said.

His face looked like thunder. “You and Ivy are forbidden to attend.” When they simply looked at him with angelic faces, Wolf added, “I’m warning you.”

At that ridiculous edict, the eight women burst into giggles, and Wolf turned his angry gaze on Tiffany. “I’m sure Miss Tiffany won’t want to attend. She has more sense. In fact, I’ve come to request her company for a carriage ride tomorrow afternoon.”

The giggling stopped and all eyes swung her way. Tiffany’s blood boiled in her veins. The cheek of the man. She’d said a slow courtship. This wasn’t slow. And he hadn’t won the bet yet. How to answer? “If the weather is fine, the outing would be acceptable. I’ll bring Milly, our lady’s maid.”

“Perfect. If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I shall find Marlowe and leave you to your, er…leave.”