“Wise man, although I hear he took some criticism in Parliament.”
Robert and Thomas exchanged a rueful glance, which made Bill laugh again. “Kennet and I have twenty years on you two. Wisdom is usually hard won.” He paused, his face growing somber again. “Speaking of wisdom... you do realize that Bentley is not just a wealthy man. He’s ruthless. And dangerous. While your moving against him may be unexpected, he will not hesitate to retaliate. And the closer he veers toward ruin, the more desperate he’ll be.”
Thomas thought again of the note he’d sent Rose. Putting her at arm’s length had definitely been the right move. “We understand.”
Bill stood. “I’ll do my part, but after that, I ask that you keep this club out of it as much as possible. But do keep me informed. And good luck to you both.”
*
Rose read overthe fifth draft of her missive, finally satisfied with the wording.
Dear Lord Newbury,
I appreciate your kind apology, although it was unnecessary as nothing untoward or improper passed between us. Your plan to continue providing me information is also kind but unnecessary, as my own sources have been, and will continue to be, sufficient. So there is no need for continued communication between us.
I wish you and your brother all good fortune with your future endeavors.
Lady Rose Timmons
Polite. Adequate. And not nearly as harsh or bitter as the first four. And it had only taken her a bit more than a week to write it. Ten days.That’s a bit more than a week, right?
Ten days, two short notes about the debts of two men at Campion’s hell, one ball, two soirees, a musicale, and four afternoon calls with her mother, now that she was no longer needed as a chaperone for Cecily’s unending string of callers. Rose had seen Beth and her mother twice, but Thomas and Robert had not been in attendance at any of the events. Through one of her connections on the docks, she’d heard that they both had been spending more time with their father and the Ashton business holdings. Good for them.
Rose read her note one more time, then folded and sealed it and added to her stack of morning notes. Next she tackled one to her friend Ann, who had politely declined the invitation to the soiree Lady Dorothea was hosting—with an excellent reason.
My dearest Ann!
While I am disappointed that I will not see you three days hence, when the dreaded—for me—soiree takes place, I am thrilled that Lord R—has included you in his family’s celebratory dinner for his sister’s betrothal. You must remember not to outshine the lady in question, which will be difficult, as you glow with delight any time Lord R—reaches for your hand.
May your joy in his presence continue to grow.
Your devoted friend,
Lady R—
Rose had not been surprised when she’d received Ann’s regrets. After the Eatonton Ball, it had taken only one musicale—where Lord Ramsbury never left Ann’s side—and one soiree for the young nobleman to pay a visit to Ann’s father. His suit of her was now official, and Rose fully expected a betrothal would be forthcoming. Their childhood friendship had blossomed into a charming love match.
Rose’s joy for Ann ran true, but it did not hurt that some of her guilt over spoiling other possibilities for Ann had been assuaged when her friend had declared that Lord Ramsbury had been the very man she had been hoping for over the years.
Not every childhood infatuation resulted in such a remarkable outcome.
Rose added the letter to the stack, then rang for Davis, who picked up her letters without a word and eased out of the room. She reached for yet another sheet of foolscap and placed it in front of her, but paused, a wave of fatigue settling over her. Never had she wanted a season to be finished as much as she did this one. Her love of the glittering parties and gay dancing had faded for some reason, and her whole life suddenly felt like a façade, a pretense she couldn’t sustain any longer. As the last of her dreams faded beneath reality, her enthusiasm for the gaiety that encouraged them waned. Perhaps she should not wait for Cecily’s betrothal. Her sister would be fine.
Tap.“Rose?”
She looked up as Cecily hesitated in the doorway. “Yes?”
Her sister’s smile held a touch of sadness. “Are you sure you won’t come with us to the modiste? Mother said you could choose a new frock.”
“No, dear, it would just be a waste of time. I won’t need—”
“—A new frock in Yorkshire. So you’ve said a hundred times. But they do have parties in Yorkshire. Even Aunt Sophie has parties.”
Actually, I’m positive she does not.“And I have trunks full of gowns to choose from.”
“Rose—”
“Go. Be happy. You need to look brilliant for Lord Philby, not drawn down by worrying about me.”
