by Rose Gordon
“Where is Frances?” Perhaps she could at least delay the inevitable awkwardness by asking a few questions.
“She is finishing her breakfast. Why haven’t you eaten yet?” Helen flung open her wardrobe and removed her russet-colored cloak. “For heaven’s sake, do hurry.”
Rosamond draped the cloak over her shoulders. “I wasn’t hungry.”
Helen looked pointedly at her waist, which had shrunk a tiny bit over the past few days. “Nerves? Or are you trying to make yourself more slender?”
Rosamond glanced down. “Both. A little.”
“Good. Richard likes women who are lithe and slim,” Helen replied. “Let’s go.”
Somehow, the realization that Richard might like her if she weighed less made her feel even more jaded about their upcoming reunion. It was also a painful reminder of all of her inadequacies, which she had relentlessly cataloged over the past two days as she lay huddled in her room. At least her cloak concealed her plump figure. Now all she had to do was act naturally when in Anthony’s company, which would be difficult enough, given how much she had been mooning over him since they’d last met.
Had she not seen him since the night they returned? It seemed a small eternity since she’d spoken to him.
She followed Helen down the corridors and out the great hall. Helen was taller and quicker than she, and Rosamond had to scramble to keep pace. By the time they arrived at the barn, she was completely out of breath. She propped herself in the doorway, trying to gain some semblance of composure, while Helen charged in.
“Anthony,” she demanded imperiously, “come out here and speak to me.”
Anthony strode over from one of the stalls, wiping his hands on a rag. He was wearing breeches, boots, and a shirt open at the neck, with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Rosamond looked away. She was having a hard enough time trying to appear serene and poised without seeing Anthony in such attractive disarray.
“What do you want?” He spoke tersely. “I’m busy.”
“You’ve been busy for days,” Helen retorted. “It’s high time you took us to have fun. Hitch up the sleigh and take us driving.”
“Us?” Anthony turned, and spotted Rosamond. He gave her a brief, curt nod. “I can’t today, Helen. Run along and find something else to do.”
“Oh, bother.” Helen crossed her arms over her chest. “We need something to occupy us until the ball tomorrow. We’re terribly bored, Anthony, and we want entertainment until Richard arrives. Be a good chap. We hardly ever ask you for anything. Rosie—“ She turned to Rosamond, a pleading expression on her face, “Do speak up. Anthony won’t refuse a guest. He’d say no to his own sister, but not to you.”
Rosamond swallowed, for her mouth had gone instantly dry. “It would be very nice of you,” she managed to croak.
He glanced over at her, a lock of hair falling over his brow. “Fine,” he muttered, ungraciously.
“Oh, thank you, Anthony.” Helen reached over and squeezed her brother’s arm in gratitude. “I’ll go and fetch Frances. Rosie, why don’t you stay here and talk to Anthony? Keep him company while he hitches up the horses?”
Fear shot through Rosamond like an arrow. “Oh, no. I shouldn’t. I’ll go back to the house and get Frances.”
“Nonsense,” Helen trilled, giving Rosamond a meaningful look. She swept past her brother and, as she passed Rosamond on the threshold, she hissed, “You still have time to practice.”
Rosamond stayed rooted in the doorway. She would not practice her sorely-lacking flirting skills on Anthony. What she felt for him was deeper than any flirtation, and if she opened her mouth to try to charm him, she’d likely make an absolute cake of herself, spilling the whole truth.
He was a wonderful man. He would make some girl very happy one day, just not Rosamond Hughes. So she must speak and act naturally around him, as naturally as she dared. She couldn’t avoid him, and she couldn’t love him, so she must just be kind to him.
He was bringing the horses around to the sleigh. “Can I help you?” she offered, finally walking all of the way into the barn. She put the hood of her cloak back as to see better.
“Wouldn’t want you to mess up your nice clothes,” he responded, his voice dry.
“Nonsense.” She removed her cloak and draped it over a nearby hay bale. “Here. I’ll fasten the other side while you work on this one.” Having something to do helped her to overcome her profound embarrassment. She worked deftly, buckling the buckles and threading the reins through the brass rings on the harness. “Lovely work on conditioning this harness,” she added. “The leather so often stiffens and begins to rot if it gets too wet. I was a little afraid the snow storm the other night destroyed it, but you’ve done a great job.”
He straightened, and stared at her over the horses’ backs. “I don’t understand you,” he muttered, his jaw clenched.
“Oh, I just meant that you show great care and pride in all the work you do with your horses.” He looked positively angry, and something deeper ran in his expression, too. Some kind of hurt. She stepped around to his side of the sleigh. Why was he so unhappy?
“No, I mean, I don’t understand you—I don’t understand why you want to change who you are.” He took a step forward. “Whenever I am in your company, and we are alone, I think what an extraordinary woman you are. But you want to change that.” He braced one hand against the carriage, and leaned forward, as though challenging her. “Don’t become another flibbertigibbet like my sisters. You are a rare jewel and lovely just as you are.”
All of the oxygen in the room had vanished. “I don’t think so,” she gasped.
He reached out and touched her cheek. “You are.”
The tip of his finger was rough, and it caught a little on her skin. She could not suppress a quick intake of breath at his touch. Her heart pounded heavily. He must be able to hear it.
“Are we ready?” Frances’ merry tone cut through the air like a knife. Rosamond sprang backwards, knocking herself against the sleigh. Heat flooded her face, and the place on her cheek where Anthony had touched her burned as though she had been branded.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” She grabbed her cloak from the stack of straw and drew it on. She kept her face turned stubbornly away from Anthony. How much had the girls seen? How long had they been standing there?
As they piled into the sleigh, Helen leaned over, her cheerful plaid cloak draping across Rosamond’s lap.
“Well done, my dear,” she whispered, patting Rosamond’s arm. “You will have no trouble working your magic on Richard.”
It was a sweet kind of torture to be near Rosamond as they skimmed over the frozen fields. He could not seem to control himself around her. More to the point, he could not refrain from touching her. If he wasn’t winding a silky-soft curl around his finger, then he was stroking the velvety smoothness of her cheek.
She had said she wasn’t enough. She was trying to make herself into something she was not in order to get Richard.
But would Richard appreciate the treasure heaped at his feet?
He guided the horses carefully around a bend in the road, and his sisters whooped with joy. Rosamond alone sat quietly, her eyes half-shut and her head tilted upwards, as though she were savoring the icy-cold breeze. She would not look at him, would not even glance in his direction, since their shared moment in the barn.
It was unlikely Richard would realize the treasure Rosamond was. He made no secret of loving his his bachelor ways, and of having many adoring women on a string. He would not love Rosamond the way Anthony would. Would he be a blackguard if he stole Rosamond from his brother?
No. He had been wrong to think so in the first place. Richard wouldn’t give up his carefree existence to settle down, no matter how Rosamond was being pushed to present herself. He loved his freedom too much, and he was still seeking his fortune. A wife would tie him down.
He turned the horses so they began heading back to Graveleon, and a collective groan arose fro
m his sisters. “We’ve been sledding for an hour already,” he shouted above the din. “I have other matters to attend to this afternoon.”
As a matter of fact, he had important business that he must focus upon. Now that he had banished the problems of Richard and brotherly honor from his mind, he had to formulate a plan. No, not a plan. A courtship.
He dropped the girls at the portico for the great house, taking great care to treat Rosamond cordially, but without flustering her again. His sisters were his witnesses, and they would enjoy any perceived flirtation far too much—and for the wrong reasons.
When he reached Danby, the castle was full of guests for the duke’s Christmas gathering. Cousins, uncles, aunts, and other relations both distant and close, were milling about the grounds, chatting in the hallways, or taking tea in one of the many rooms on the first floor. Servants ran to and fro, a sure sign of the crush of visitors, for usually the servants at Danby were never seen and rarely heard.
He only needed to speak to one person, however, and he had a pretty good idea of where she might be.
He took the steps two at a time, dodging relatives as best he could, until he reached the second floor. Then he made his way to the library. The massive oak door was closed, but he had an excellent reason to interrupt.
He opened without knocking. The imperious, white-haired woman he sought glanced up from the volume she was reading, a smile hovering around her lips.
“Well, Anthony?” She put aside her book.
“Grandmother, I am ready to court the only woman in the world who can make me happy,” he confessed. “Have I your blessing?”
“You had it from the day you first came to Danby,” she retorted crisply. “What took you so long?”
“When you enter the ballroom tonight,’” Helen lectured as she stuck pins into Rosamond’s curly hair, “be sure to pause for a moment so that all eyes are focused upon you. Richard likes it when a woman makes a grand entrance.”
Rosamond’s eyes filled with tears. It had to be the way that Helen was stabbing hairpins into her scalp. It couldn’t be because she was absolutely miserable. “I shall try.”
“Frances, do be helpful and select a pair of earbobs and a necklace from Rosie’s jewel case,” Helen scolded. “None of us have time to be idle.”
Frances leapt from her position on the chaise lounge and dutifully scavenged through Rosamond’s jewelry collection. “I know, I know,” she muttered, combing through Rosamond’s gems. “It’s just that I keep waiting for Richard to arrive. If I continue to look out the window, I might catch a glimpse of him.”
“I can’t believe he’s not here already.” Helen glanced at her handiwork in the mirror. “Fancy, making Mama and Papa wait this long. I don’t care if he has been on the other side of the world. One should have a sense of the fitness of things. After all, he has a lovely woman waiting for him, right here.” She patted Rosamond’s shoulder.
Frances took out a pair of diamond earbobs, and an ornate diamond necklace that always made Rosamond blush with shame. It was far too elaborate and fancy for a country girl, especially when she would rather fade into the background of other people’s lives. On the other hand, it was a good choice for tonight. Apparently, Richard preferred completely pretentious and attention-seeking women.
“Come, stand up.” Helen directed Rosamond over to the armoire, where they had hung her deep wine-colored dress on the door. “Did you wear your corset? Good. Let’s tighten it before we drop the dress over your head.”
Rosamond gave an inward groan. What she wouldn’t give for a lithe, slim figure. Helen and Frances never had to wear corsets, which were essentially a product of a bygone age. But to achieve the necessary gracefulness of figure, she had to stuff herself into one like a sausage. “Grab on to something, and suck in your breath,” Helen ordered.
Rosamond complied, and the stays around her waist tightened.
“Excellent.” Helen motioned to Frances, and the two girls tugged the dress carefully over Rosamond’s head, taking great care not to muss her hair. Then Frances fastened the diamond necklace around her neck, while Helen slipped the earbobs into her ears.
The girls exchanged satisfied smiles when they were done.
“Perfect,” declared Frances.
“Just what Richard wants,” added Helen.
Rosamond glanced at herself in the mirror, and gasped. She didn’t look like herself at all. The wine-colored gown, a gift from Papa that she had hidden in the back of her wardrobe, was cut lower than she was used to. However, the necklace covered up her too-bare décolletage.
Helen handed her a gossamer shawl. “Here. We’ll put on our heavy cloaks downstairs.”
Rosamond nodded. Never had she felt so utterly miserable. There was nothing she could do. Everything was going according to plan. In fact, the sisters had said over and over that everything was going smashingly according to plan. Their part in the plan was now complete. They had dolled her up to look like a stranger, and instructed her on how best to snare Richard with her coquettish ways. Nothing remained except the most important part.
Now she had to entrance a man she’d nurtured a tendre for since childhood, even though she was certain that she loved his brother instead.
She drew on her gloves. Then she picked up her fan. “Thank you both for working so hard on my behalf. I don’t know how I can ever show my appreciation.”
“Marry our brother,” Frances teased. “Having him off the bachelor lifestyle will certainly be a relief.”
Ah, yes. Marry their brother. But which one? Would the girls be just as pleased if she threw herself at Anthony and begged him to marry her?
She followed the girls downstairs, where Lord and Lady Carew were waiting. She had to walk more slowly than Frances and Helen, as her corset made it difficult to breathe and to descend stairs. As she trailed behind them, Anthony stepped into the vestibule.
Rosamond’s heart skipped a beat. He was so handsome. No, handsome was an inadequate word. Yes, his black hair was brushed back sleekly, and only an unruly lock curled rebelliously over his forehead. Yes, the cut of his suit was impeccable, showing off how very muscular and tall Anthony was—probably from all the hard physical labor he insisted on doing himself. There was something about him that was more striking than conventional male good looks.
There was a vitality and an earthiness to Anthony that somehow made every other man she’d ever met seem like a puppet. Including Richard.
“You look lovely, my dear,” Lord Carew effused as she made her way down the last few stairs. “I declare, Jane, we have a bevy of belles in our midst.”
Lady Carew gave Rosamond a kind smile that warmed her heart. “Yes, we are most fortunate to have such pretty girls to take to the Danby ball.”
Anthony said nothing, but simply stared at Rosamond. She wasn’t sure if he thought she looked nice, or if he was dumbfounded by her ridiculous splendor.
They crowded into the Carews’ large carriage, for even the luxurious, outsized carriage was a little too small for two men and four women. Anthony sat across from the three girls, beside his parents. He was situated directly across from Rosamond, and it was difficult indeed not to raise her eyes and look directly at him every time she just wanted to look up. So she kept her eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor. There was no need to moon at Anthony. If he caught a glimpse of the depth of her feelings for him, it would be highly embarrassing.
“Who are you going to dance with for the first dance?” Helen nudged her.
“I…hadn’t thought…” Rosamond shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. She had no idea whom she should dance with. She didn’t know anyone at Danby Castle save Richard and Anthony.
“Anthony, do be a good chap and dance with Rosamond,” Frances wheedled. “I know you hate to, but it’s a lively country dance. You’ll like it.”
“Yes, Anthony, do,” Helen added. “Rosamond won’t have anyone until…” She shot a covert glance at her parents. “Until certain people ar
rive.”
Thank goodness for the relative darkness of the carriage, lit only by dim lanterns. It concealed her hot cheeks, which must look absolutely scarlet by now. “He doesn’t have to,” she managed to mutter. “I’ll be quite fine on my own.”
“I’d be delighted.” Anthony gave her a warm smile. “I’m not very good though. I must warn you. You may dance once with me and then declare yourself done.”
“Indeed.” Helen giggled. “More than one lady has had her toes stepped on.”
A ridiculous feeling of loyalty mixed with gratitude shot through Rosamond. “Thank you, sir.” Even though she had called him Anthony before, and they had spent an entire evening alone in each other’s company, she must remain formal before his parents.
She pressed herself as far into one corner of the carriage as she could. If she could just disappear for a moment, perhaps her friends would stop calling attention to her. It was most distressing to be the center of attention.
The rest of the ride passed in silence, until they spotted the brightly-lit torches of Danby Castle leading the way to the front entrance. She gathered her courage. She must achieve what she and Richard’s sisters set out to accomplish.
The ballroom was a magnificent room lit by towering chandeliers. It was also the scene of an absolute crush. Everywhere she turned, well-dressed people were in her way. She managed to remove her cloak and hand it off to a servant, before seeking a place along the wall. With her back to an elaborate fresco, she could observe the ballroom better, without feeling lost and disoriented.
“You aren’t going to remain a wallflower all evening.” Frances groaned, coming to stand beside her. “We won’t let you. If necessary, we will force Anthony to dance with you until Richard arrives. I shall tell him right now. You want more than just the first dance.”
“No, don’t. I just needed to get my bearings,” she retorted. She was grateful to her friends, she really was, but their constant attendance on her was starting to rub. “I’m sure Bexley will be here soon to escort me to the floor.”