Her mother actually smiled. “Not a thing. I do believe everyone will have a marvelous time.” As a buzz arose from the foyer, Lady Dorothea tapped her hand. “Here they come. Find your sister, please. I want her to receive with your father and me.”
Ah. There it is.“Of course, Mother. I believe she’s in the study with Papa.” Rose fetched Cecily and Edmund, then retreated to a far corner, chatting a moment with two of the musicians before they began to play. As more people filled the room, she slipped behind the screens to catch her breath. The tall partitions blocked much of the light from the blazing chandeliers, leaving enough for the servants to work and not run into each other, but casting the area in a series of long shadows. Two baize-backed doors at the far corners led down to the kitchen, and a few tables against the wall between the doors allowed the footmen to pick up newly supplied trays of champagne and food without going down to the kitchens. Rose had set it up that way because she knew Cook did not like strange servants underfoot.
Unused palms lined the space immediately behind the screens, and Rose pushed between several of them and the screens, finding a hinged seam where she could peer out at the festivities without being seen. It was there she watched as Her Grace, the Duchess of Kennet, entered with her daughter, Lady Elizabeth, and two of her sons, Lord Newbury and Lord Robert. Rose’s breath caught. They were resplendent, standing out even in a crowd of Society’s elite. Keeping with the evening’s theme, the duchess’s tiny form had been wrapped in a bright scarlet satin gown, which made her skin and hair seem to glisten under the candlelight. The satin on her right shoulder was gathered and clasped by a golden band. Material from the deeply cut bodice then rose up over her left shoulder, dropping into a broad cape that trailed on the floor behind her. A gold sash embroidered with concentric red squares bound the narrow skirt beneath her breasts. Ribbons featuring a jagged geometric pattern bordered her hem, and she carried a matching red and gold fan, the lanyard of which looped around her right wrist.
Beth, pale and blonde in contrast to her mother and brothers, glowed in a similarly designed gown, primarily gold with green accents, although her cape ended just below her hips, emphasizing their roll and sway with each step. Robert’s handsome form turned every woman’s eye with his royal blue topcoat and breeches, accented by a gold waistcoat stitched with an intricate medallion design in blue. The color scheme emphasized the brilliance of his blue eyes. Thomas’s evening kit was, as usual, black, but his red waistcoat with distinctive gold buttons gave him a profile equal to his more dandified brother.
Rose forced herself to breathe as they were presented to her parents and Cecily. Thomas gave a precise bow, then looked around, scanning the room. He paused to say something to Cecily, who grinned and pointed directly at the screens.
Oh, she did not!
Thomas nodded, smiled, then offered his arm to his mother, escorting her into the room and around to the clusters of nobles who had begun to gather plates of food. Rose watched him, her chest tightening. The curls of his ebony hair were barely tamed, slipping their styling to lie in soft waves near his collar and around his ears. His eyes studied each person he met, as if they were the only ones in the room. The arch of his cheekbones highlighted the slim angles of his face. His pure beauty left Rose to chew her lower lip as her heart raced.I cannot do this.
“My lady?”
Rose jerked but did not turn. “You should not be down here, Sarah.”
“I came to see if you needed anything?”
“Other than the ability to screw my courage to the sticking-place?”
“You are one of the most courageous people I have ever known. You don’t need my help for that.”
Rose turned and maneuvered from behind the palms. “Thank you, Sarah.”
“And if I may say, he’s a fool if he doesn’t see you for the remarkable person you are.”
Fighting a smile, Rose tilted her head. “I do believe I have given you leave to speak far too freely to me.”
“Should I stop, my lady?”
This time, Rose did grin. “Never.” She straightened her gown. “So. Into the lion’s den.”
“Of course. It’s where a lioness belongs.”
Rose patted Sarah on the arm, then stiffened her spine and stepped off, marching out from behind the screens, turning around the edge of them as if she were on a mission—
—and straight into Thomas Ashton’s back.
He jerked, trying not to spill a cup of lemonade, as Rose did a quick dodge step to avoid falling at his feet. The sound that emerged from her mouth sounded quite similar to the one Athena made when her tail was trod upon, and the scarlet-clad duchess, who stood next to her son, covered her mouth with a gloved hand, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
Lady Dorothea, standing just beyond them, scowled, her words a low hiss. “Rose! What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to find her breath or her voice. “I was just—” She gestured weakly behind her. “Just—” She stopped, finally finding her composure. “I was checking to see if anything needed to be replenished.”
Thomas held his cup away from his body, grinning. “My lemonade, apparently.” He looked down at wet spots on the floor.
Rose’s cheeks felt as hot as a fireplace grate as she followed his gaze. “I—I’ll get a footman.” But the step she took away from them was halted by a hand on her arm, and she looked down to see a red satin glove gripping her wrist.
“I’m quite sure my son can find someone to take care of this. I have been looking for you. Come, let’s find a table so we can talk.”
Rose swallowed and let herself be led away by the diminutive duchess. As Lady Dorothea stepped in beside her, Her Grace shook her head slightly. “I’d like to speak to Lady Rose alone, please.”
Rose would never forget the look on her mother’s face at that point, which was an odd blend of jealous, mortification, and rage. But she stopped and turned, moving back toward the front of the room.
“Um... why do you wish to talk to me, Your Grace?”
“Well, I could let my son talk to you, but he would have to begin by apologizing for being a graceless boor, and that would be a bit awkward.” The duchess paused, examining the tables near them, then pointing. “Oh, I like this one here.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Far enough away that people will not be tempted to eavesdrop and visible enough so that people will not mistake how much I care for you.” She sat with the grace of a Society matron, spreading her cape around her feet.
