“Rosalyn! It’s me,” Georgina whispered in a particularly loud whisper through the door. “Can we come in?”
“We wanted to ask you about our dresses,” Isabel added, talking in a low voice.
Rosalyn opened the door and let them in. Georgina half-collapsed into the room from where she had been leaning on the wood. She had a mulberry-coloured gown in her arms. Isabel walked in behind her, carrying a very pale lavender blue gown.She shut the door behind them, and they stood awkwardly by the door, looking at Rosalyn.
“Are we disturbing you?” Isabel asked.
Rosalyn blinked and shook her head. “No. No, dears! Come in. I was just planning my own outfit. Come in!” she gestured them to the padded chair and the stool by the dressing table, the only two places to sit, besides the bed, in the room.
“I thought you mentioned you might wear brown?” Isabel asked attentively. Rosalyn nodded.
“Yes. Yes, I did. Or green?”
“Yes! Your beautiful sage-green day-dress. Do, do please wear it!” Georgina begged her.
Rosalyn went to her wardrobe uncertainly and opened it, taking out the gown. She had been unsure—it became her extremely well, but she had always felt a little self-conscious in it, since when she wore it in London it had drawn some stares. She took out the sage green gown and held it up against herself, studying her reflection in the looking glass opposite.
Her own hazel eyes stared back at her, seeming huge in her slender, pale face. She normally thought of her eyes as pale tawny brown, but when she wore the green dress, green flecks seemed to appear there, making them seem larger and striking.
“Oh, do wear it!” Georgina begged again. “It is such a becoming colour on you.”
“You do look very pretty, Rosalyn,” Isabel told her gently.
Rosalyn swallowed hard. She felt too shy to wear it—the last thing she wanted was to stand out. But if her sisters insisted, she could not refuse.Besides,she thought, her cheeks heating up,mayhap the duke would like it.
“I am going to wear this,” Georgina informed her, holding the dark red velvet dress up against herself. “You don’t think it clashes?” she gestured to her cinnamon curls.
“No. It suits you very well, Georgina,” Rosalyn assured her. Georgina did look very beautiful with her very pale skin and red hair shown up by the dark red gown. Her large caramel-brown eyes also showed up beautifully.
“I wondered about my hair,” Isabel informed Rosalyn as she held up the soft-blue gown. “I thought perhaps something similar to the chignon that you wore the other day? With a silver clasp? But mayhap that would be too formal for an afternoon event.” A frown creased her smooth brow, her slim face showing her worry. Isabel often worried about doing the right thing.
“I think that would be a good level of formality,” Rosalyn assured her sister gently. “You are a young debutante—dressing prettily could hardly be criticised in you.”
“Oh, Rosalyn,” Isabel said warmly. “You always make me feel at ease.”
“As you should,” Rosalyn told her softly. “As you should.”
She stepped behind the screen in the corner of the room to change into the green gown, and then her sisters were racing to take their turn. Time was in limited supply—they were expected to be ready by four o’clock, and they all still needed a ladies’ maid to arrange their hair.
“Now we had best hurry to our chamber,” Georgina said as she stepped out from behind the screen, the dark red dress hugging her curvaceous figure. Isabel was already dressed, waiting at the door, her black hair falling like water around her shoulders onto the pale lilac gown. Rosalyn’s heart twisted as it filled with love for her two younger sisters. They were so beautiful, so innocently full of joy and life. She smiled at them both.
“I shall meet you in the drawing room,” she said warmly.
They both hurried out of the door and into their own room, and Rosalyn shut the door behind them, smiling to herself.Letthem keep that,she thought, a silent prayer.Please, let them keep their innocence.
She rang the bell to summon her maid to style her hair.
Twenty minutes later, her hair styled in an elegant but simple chignon decorated with a ribbon in a similar green, she walked into the hallway. She went to check if her sisters were in their chamber, but as she lifted her hand to knock, she heard the sound of hurrying feet. She whipped round, as her sisters must be running over to her, but her jaw dropped as she saw that it was not her sisters, but the duke.
He was dressed in a navy-blue tailcoat—so dark that it seemed black—with white shirt and dark brown trousers. His hair was tousled and his eyes round. He saw her and stopped, cheeks reddening.
“Miss Rothwell,” he stammered. “I did not know that you were here.”
“I was looking for my sisters,” Rosalyn said, frowning. “Is something amiss, Your Grace?”
“One of the horses. An older mare. She is sick. I was running to find the butler,” he explained. “Someone needs to fetch the apothecary.”
“Is she coughing?” Rosalyn asked.
