“So I see.” Thomas suddenly wanted to know more about this girl—this woman—who had once been their childhood playmate.She called herself unattractive. How could anyone think that?“How did you know about his debt to Bill Campion?”
She strolled away from them, headed for a refreshment table. “I’m thirsty.”
Robert watched Rose walk away, an odd look in his eye. Then he whispered. “You inquire. I’m going to see where Broxley got off to.”
As Robert headed for the terrace, Thomas followed Rose, picking up a cup of his own. He took a sip and grimaced. “This stuff is truly vile.” He set down the cup.
“Not as bad as the swill at Almack’s.”
His eyes widened. “I thought you had never been to Almack’s.”
Her smile had a sly cast to it. “See how it works? I never said I had not been to Almack’s. I said that I doubted Cecily would ever get a voucher because of me.” As he laughed under his breath, she went on. “Remember there are six of us. I am the eldest, but was once a naïve and impeccably dressed debutante, schooled in perfect behavior, just like my peers. I was never beautiful enough to get on the list on my own, but my mother was, as was Abigail, who is only eleven months behind me. When Beatrice came out a year later, all four of us had a season of those Wednesday night balls and horrible food. Then they married, and I did not. The boys found wives almost as quickly. It’s been five years since my parents has had a child enter Society, and almost eight since our season at Almack’s.” She peered into the remnants of the lemonade in her cup and set it aside. “A lot has happened.”
Thomas listened to her recitation a moment, watching as the humor and excitement drained from her face and the gaze in her dark blue eyes turned distant. He thought about what her friend Ann had almost said. “A lot that’s painful.”
She still didn’t look at him. “I believe every life has pain in it, Lord Newbury.”
He liked it better when she was cursing at him. Thomas realized she’d reject any semblance of pity, especially from him. But he found that he desperately wanted to keep her talking. “Lady Rose?” he said softly.
She finally turned. “Yes?”
“You haven’t answered two of my questions.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“How do you know so much about Broxley’s debt with Bill Campion?”
She crossed her arms. “You want me to give up my network?”
“Yes. Because I think we can help each other.”
Her brows furrowed but there was intrigue in her eyes. “How?”
“The idea is still forming. Please answer the question.”
She looked around a moment. “Walk with me. I should get back to my seat. It would not do for us to spend too much time together. It’s improper. And I actually am starting to believe you are trying to improve onyourreputation, not ruin mine.” Rose pulled up the shoulder of her gown, which had slipped down again.
He offered her his arm, trying not to notice the expanse of flawless skin that small flaw in her gown exposed. Thomas had noticed that the dress didn’t quite fit properly, and Beth had mentioned that it was several years out of style. Yet Thomas suspected that all of that was on purpose. She did not want to stand out—but did not seem to mind when she did. Of all the types of women he’d expected to meet tonight, Rose Timmons was... unexpected.
They strolled around the upper tier, slowly but without lingering near any one group. “It started after a friend of mine was ruined.”
“As Miss Blackburn hinted.”
She nodded. “I was devastated for her. Despondent. I railed at the unfairness of it all. She had donenothing, but it was the appearance of the thing. She was forced into a marriage that has made her miserable. My parents were unforgiving and insisted I sever contact. Cecily was too young. The others were gone or about to be. My maid Sarah consoled me. I began to spend more time with her and the other servants. And their friends. They knew. The servants know everything.”
She paused as they moved through a cluster of people. “It started there. Then I started taking over some of the household management from my mother, who’d much rather embroider and gossip over tea than run her home. The servants opened up to me even more, introduced me to butchers, vendors, laborers. My father has moved a portion of my dowry to a personal account, and I learned quickly who I needed to pay for information and who I could offer something in trade. Dresses. My brothers’ old clothes.” She looked up at him. “Two of Mr. Campion’s major-domos are wearing Albert’s old evening kits.”
Concern for her washed through Thomas. “Please tell me you don’t go down there yourself.”
She stopped cold and leaned back staring at him, eyes wide. “Heavens, Newbury, I’m not completely mad. I would not go into Covent Garden at night without two bodyguards and my brace of pistols. After all, I am not Duke Wolfsbane.”
He stiffened and glared at her. “I do not like that name,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know why not. It suits you.”
“It most certainly does not.”
“And how long was it before that miscreant could walk again?”
