“As lovely as our time has been, I must take my leave, Winifred.” She waved her hand as Mother started to protest. “The girls will be wondering where I have gotten off to. I dare not have Hertfort suffer a moment longer. He took them to the park so that I could enjoy a pot of tea with you.” She looked at Rosalind. “You must enjoy the park as well, Miss Richardson. Your mother says you walk daily, often for hours at a time.” Lady Hertfort’s eyes ran down Rosalind’s form, probably wondering how Rosalind remained so plump with all the walking.
Or possibly she was trying to determine what Torrington found sosuitableabout her.
“I do walk, my lady,” Rosalind answered in a wooden tone, perching carefully at the edge of one chair. She willed Lady Hertfort to speed up her exit. There were things that needed to be said to her mother, the first of which was that Rosalind wasn’t marrying anyone because there was no compelling reason for her to do so.
EspeciallyTorrington.
Lady Hertfort took Mother’s hand. “I’ll see you soon, Winifred.” Torrington’s sister took her leave with an incline of her regal head, the silk of her skirts whispering in the quiet of the room as Jacobson escorted her to the door.
Once Lady Hertfort was gone, Mother turned to Rosalind with a smile. “The tea is still warm, I believe, but if it is not, dearest, I’ll have a fresh pot brought. Mrs. Hadley made biscuits, but they aren’t nearly as good as the ones you make. Perhaps you’d have a word with her?”
It was never a good sign when Mother acknowledged Rosalind’s skill in the kitchen.
“What have you done?” Rosalind’s fingers twisted together.
Her mother sat back against the cushions of the sofa, one brow raised, and brought the cup of tea she held to her lips. Small curls, once the color of winter wheat but now faded to nearly white, dangled from her temples. “I’ve had tea with Lady Hertfort.” The curls trembled dramatically as she spoke. “And I asked that Mrs. Hadley not prepare a dessert tonight. I think we should go without in the future.” Her eyes took in Rosalind’s waistline. “All that walking,” she said in a far too casual tone, “doesn’t seem to be working.”
Rosalind’s gaze narrowed on her mother, her stomach pitching in the most unfortunate way. “I suppose not. But it doesn’t matter, does it? I’ve been found suitableas is.”
“You seem upset, dearest. Your mouth is puckered as if you’ve bitten into a lemon.”
“I’m trying to keep from screaming, Mother. How could you?” Rosalind’s fingers tore at her skirts with agitation. “Howdareyou?”
Mother took another sip of her tea. “I’ve told you more than once, Rosalind, that eavesdropping rarely turns out well for anyone involved. It appears you haven’t taken my advice.”
Rosalind loved her mother. Truly. But at the moment, she could have cheerfully strangled her. “You’ve sold me to Torrington. Without my knowledge.”
“Sold? I find that dramatic even for you, Rosalind.”
“I know that you seem to think a mature gentleman is preferable as a husband for me, but I do not. Unlike you, I find elderly men to be repulsive.”
Her mother choked on her tea. “Repulsive. You find the Earl of Torrington repulsive?” A derisive snort came from her. “That must be why you received Lord Torrington,twice, without my being present.”
Rosalind swallowed. “You were out. Would you have preferred I turn him away?”
She would kill Jacobson for this breach of privacy. They could make do without a butler. They had half a dozen footmen. “Lord Torrington was kind enough to provide me with his family’s recipe for custard. Which I greatly appreciated. Nothing more.”
“Hmmm. What about when you called on Lord Torrington, at hishome,without benefit of a chaperone? Was that an expression of your disgust?”
“His butler was present during the entire visit as well as another member of his staff. Nothing improper occurred. We were merely exchanging recipes.” Bijou could be counted as a kitchen maid, couldn’t she? “The fact remains, Torrington is twice my age and a former rake, which I don’t find the least appealing. You must undo this. I won’t marry him.”
“I see.” Mother sipped her tea and gave her a bland look. “Nonetheless, youwillwed Torrington.”
“I won’t.” Rosalind lifted her chin. “I’ll speak to him. We are friends—”
Another derisive snort from her mother.
“And ask him to beg off,” she finished. “I’m sure he will have no trouble finding another suitable young lady.” Rosalind could practically feel the press of her mother’s heel on her neck.
Mother set down her cup before regarding Rosalind with steely determination. “I will not undo this, Rosalind. Be thankful it was Torrington who offered for you when I found out about Rudolph Pennyfoil.”
Rosalind blinked, her fingers digging into her thighs. Mother knew of Pennyfoil.
“Else you would find yourself wed to Cheshire,” her mother continued. “Walking in the park every day. For hours. How addled do you think I am?”
“You”—she paused and took a breath—“told me you didn’t wish me in the kitchens, Mother. I was forced to find another place to practice my talents.”
“So this is my fault?” Mother shook her head in resignation before her voice grew steely. “You’ve enteredtradewith a baker, Rosalind. You, the daughter of a viscount. Once I found out, there was little else I could do but get you wed as soon as possible before a scandal could erupt. Because it will.”
