A Debutante's Guide to Rebellion by Kathleen Kimmel Page B

was having second thoughts. It had been a foolish proposal to begin with. They’d only known one another for a few days, and he was young. It would be ten years before anyone even began to grumble about him finding himself a wife.
    â€œThen do you not want to . . . ?”
    â€œIf you don’t want . . .” Eddie said, and they paused, staring at each other. “I want to,” she said. “If you do.”
    â€œI do,” he said.
    â€œBecause it’s a logical solution to our problems,” Eddie said, almost a question. She could not bring herself to ask if it was anything more. She could not bear to hear the answer. Either way, it would make this all far too frightening.
    â€œExactly,” Ezekiel said, and she relaxed. “Very well. I will make all the necessary arrangements. You need only ensure that your mother does not suspect us.”
    â€œI think I can manage that,” Eddie said. “Honestly, I think she would be surprised I had such an original thought.”
    â€œYour mother doesn’t know you well at all, does she?” Ezekiel said, and she felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat.
    She kept his words clasped close long after he’d left, when she lay alone in bed, waiting for what the morning would bring.

Chapter Nine
    The door opened only for the necessities: water and a basin with which to bathe each evening; food; the ferrying of chamber pots. The day of the ball arrived to find Eddie pacing her room, near-mad with boredom and nerves. John had managed to sneak her a few books, but she proved too anxious to read them.
    When a key scraped in the lock, she froze in place. The door opened on a maid, who quickly stepped aside to allow Lady Copeland to enter, her hands folded imperiously in front of her. She surveyed the room, her gaze seeming to light on Eddie out of chance. Her brows raised slightly.
    â€œWell. We certainly have our work cut out for us,” she said. “My room. Now.”
    Eddie bowed her head meekly. She must go along with her mother’s preparations and show no sign of anything but surrender. It would not be difficult. She had, after all, years of practice.
    So she followed her mother down the hall with small, shuffling steps, and sat with eyes downcast before the vanity. Her mother’s maid attacked her hair at once. She had not curled it the night before, and so only her natural curls were on display, which set both older women clucking and sighing to one another.
    â€œNo matter. As long as you look presentable, the rest won’t matter,” Lady Copeland said, as if to reassure her, and patted her on the shoulder. “You’ll see, my dear. You’ll be ever so happy.”
    Eddie bit her tongue and said nothing. Her mother hummed as Judith worked, perusing her own wardrobe. As the minutes dragged on, and Eddie focused on not wincing every time there was a sharp tug at her scalp, Lady Copeland grew listless. She rummaged in the back of her wardrobe and took out the lockbox, as she often did when she was bored, and set it on her writing desk.
    Eddie looked away before she opened it. She didn’t need to see her mother fawning over the jewels. Those damned things received more attention than Eddie ever had. The constant sketches, one setting after another, all to find the perfect way to display them. It was far more care and effort than Lady Copeland ever put toward finding the right setting for
Eddie
. She was determined to force her into whatever situation presented itself first.
    â€œThat is the best I can do,” Judith said with an air of defeat, and waved her hand vaguely in the direction of Eddie’s head. Her hair was braided and knotted in a bun at the top of her head, held in place with a bevy of pins and a circlet of five-petaled flowers. Loose curls hung at the sides of her face in waves, softening her features. She looked, she thought, very nearly