“I think you are right,” Rosalyn replied, a little distractedly. She glanced at her own reflection in the looking-glass opposite. She had chosen to wear a pale blue heavy silk gown to the soiree that the duchess had organised for the evening. She was tired after the morning’s activities in the village, and her mind kept on drifting to the duke.
He had been so helpful, so thoughtful, she acknowledged smilingly. And sometimes, his gaze on her had seemed more than supportive or friendly. Her cheeks glowed. She could not deny that she felt something, and that he did, too.
“I thought I would wear my lavender gown again? It is my favourite,” Isabel commented. Rosalyn inclined her head.
“And so, you should,” she replied. “If you do something a little different with your hair, it will look entirely different, too.”
“I thought perhaps I would try leaving the front loose in ringlets?” Isabel suggested.
“I think that would be grand,” Rosalyn replied. She glanced at her own reflection again, considering the gown and her choice of hairstyle. She had taken her hair back in a bun tied with green ribbon, some loose locks left in the front to curl in around her face. The sage green gown brought out the colour of her eyes. To her own surprise, she looked fresh and well-rested, not tired at all.
“I will fetch my red ribbon,” Georgina announced. “It is so red, that I think it might not match!” She giggled as she ran to her chamber to fetch it.
Rosalyn smiled to herself. She wished she did not feel so tired. Usually, she would have been amused by her sisters’ lively interchange, but she felt drained and a little confused after the morning in the village.
I wish I understood the duke,she thought distractedly. He gazed at her sometimes in a way that set her heart aflame, and yet sometimes he was distant and businesslike.It makes no sense.
“Hurrah!” Georgina announced, disrupting her musings. “Here it is! And it matches so well, I could have bought it for the purpose.” She had wrapped a thick crimson ribbon around her hair, tucked in under the bun at the base and encircling her hair midway between her brow and the bun. It looked beautiful, especially with the red gown that Georgina had chosen.
“It looks very well,” Rosalyn told her firmly.
“Thank you,” Georgina said shyly. Rosalyn smiled to herself. Lately, she had noticed that uncertain expression on Georgina’s face more often, as though she was distracted, thinking of someone. She tucked the thought away, intending to inquire, subtly, if there was a man who held her fancy.
I suppose I understand that feeling now,Rosalyn thought, cheeks flaming. She was grinning to herself as she went to fetch her shawl from the wardrobe. Isabel was styling her hair at the looking glass while Georgina chatted about the music and the dances.
When they were all ready, they went out into the hallway together. Papa and Sebastian were waiting, and Rosalyn’s heart thumped with excitement as they joined them and walked down the stairs. Sebastian looked particularly grand in a black tailcoat and she smiled. He most certainly had a reason to look his best. The duke’s sister and he never hid how they felt about each other.
“Well, this is pleasant,” Papa said warmly as they reached the ballroom.
“Yes, it is,” Rosalyn murmured quietly. Her stomach was knotting with anticipation, her heart thudding. Part of her wondered what had possessed her. She never normally felt that way about balls—a little apprehension and excitement, yes, but nothing like she felt in that moment.
She was still musing as they walked in and the duke, his mother and his sister waited at the top of the stairs to welcome them. She dropped a low curtsey, cheeks flaming as she lifted her eyes to the duke’s. He wore a blue velvet tailcoat and pale grey breeches and his cloud-grey eyes seemed even more intense than usual. She stood straight, lifting her gaze to his face.
“Miss Rothwell,” he greeted her, his voice resonant and rich.
Rosalyn looked away, the tone sending shivers through her. Her sisters greeted their hosts, seeming oblivious to the tension between herself and the duke as they walked towards the stairs. Rosalyn was a little ahead of them and arrived first in the ballroom.
“Ah! Miss Rothwell!” Lord Winbrook drifted over to her almost at once. “May I say how ravishing you look?”
“Um...” Rosalyn blushed, but from discomfort, not from pleasure. “Thank you, my lord,” she managed to say. She glanced around, but her sisters were engaged in conversation with Lady Amelia and Lord Grassdale, and they could not see her. Sebastian lingered on the stairs to talk to Lady Harriet, and Papa chatted to the duchess. There was nobody to help her.
“Might I say also that nothing would give me greater joy than to have your hand for the first waltz?”
“My lord,” Rosalyn said carefully. While there was no reason for her not to dance with him—even though she was betrothed to the duke, a friendly dance with someone else would not be frowned on—she did not wish to. He unsettled her greatly.
“Ah! Miss Rothwell! You look lovely,” Lady Philippa murmured, gliding across to join them. “I was so touched to see your act of charity for those young children today.”
“Thank you,” Rosalyn managed to say. She had not thought of it as an act of charity—she had seen the children and she had longed to give them a Christmas gift. She knew that her action had not been well-received—the duchess, for one, had shot her a furious glance, doubtless annoyed that the oranges that were intended for the staff—as the duke informed her—had found a place with the village’s poor children.
“You set a fine example,” Lady Philippa continued. “So many of the guests witnessed it.”
“Thank you,” Rosalyn repeated, shrinking inside. Though she was certain that Lady Philippa meant to compliment her, the words made her feel acutely aware of the duchess’ disapproval, and the disapproval of many of the guests. They reminded her how much she stood out.
“You are certain you will not waltz with me?” Lord Winbrook asked her again.
“Um...well...there is no custom that would gainsay it,” Rosalyn stammered.
“Thank you, Miss Rothwell. You do me a great honour,” he said, smiling warmly at her. Though everything about his expression seemed affable and friendly, Rosalyn felt uncomfortable.
