“Excellent! Come with me.”
Puzzled, Rose let herself be pulled away from Thomas, releasing his arm and glancing back at him as they walked away. He was already engaged in conversation with her father, and she let out a sigh of understanding.
Cecily giggled, holding Rose’s arm even tighter. “You look so confused. Did you forget that Papa wanted to talk to him?”
“Not exactly, but we were—”
“Oh, the whole room could see you were—” Cecily’s broke her sentence on the same word she’d interrupted Rose, grinning. “I thought he was going to kiss you at any moment, and Mother was beginning to have an apoplexy. Papa decided to take things in hand.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the ladies retiring room, silly. I really do need you to fix this stupid feather. And I need to... visit there for other reasons.”
“I thought you’d be glued to Lord Philby the entire evening.”
Cecily steered them around a group of gossiping matrons, and they dodged two footmen with trays of ratafia. The crush of the crowd seemed even worse toward the hallway that led to the ladies retiring room, and they emerged from the door almost like a cork escaping a bottle of champagne. In the less crowded hallway, Cecily gave a sigh of relief. “My word, all these people. It was getting so hot in there.”
“For once I’m glad I’m not dancing. Why are you not with Lord Philby?”
“He’s not here yet. They sent a footman on ahead to let us know. Apparently, their carriage broke a wheel or something, and his mother is too frail to walk the rest of the way. He’s staying with her.”
“Gallant of him.”
Cecily giggled, a sound so infectious that Rose did as well. They entered the retiring room and paused.
“Relief first or feather first?”
Cecily released her arm. “Oh, definitely relief first. I’ll be right back.”
Rose grinned as her sister disappeared into the inner chamber of the room, then found an empty stool next to a low table with a mirror. Several of these set-ups dotted the room, along with a number of upholstered chairs and chaises, many already occupied with ladies who had to do repair work or who were fanning themselves frantically. The ballroomwashot, despite the coolness of the air outside, and the evening was yet early.
After a few minutes, Cecily returned, carrying the feather. “The thing finished falling out when I was—”
Rose snatched the feather. “Give me that.” She stood and motioned for Cecily to sit. Trying to recall the many times Sarah had affixed feathers to her own head, Rose found the spot where it had been and worked it back into the tight curls and adjust a few of the hairpins. “I think that’ll do.”
Cecily examined in the mirror, then gave her a quick hug. “You have a bright future as a ladies’ maid.”
“I would never have the patience.”
They left the room, but Cecily stopped abruptly, holding up her hand. “My dance card.” It must have slipped off.”
“You can get another—”
“No, it already has names.”
“Don’t you remember who you are going to dance with?”
“Not a one. They are not Tristan, so I did not give them a second thought.”
“Fine. I will wait here.” Rose let out a mock sigh of frustration. “I have been waiting on you for ten years. What’s five more minutes?”
“You really should go on the stage.” Cecily dashed back inside.
Rose moved closer to the far wall of the hallway, watching the steady stream of women—in twos, threes, or entire clusters—moving in and out of the room, all of them caught up in their conversations and paying little attention to anyone else. Most of them were beautiful, and she knew how smart a few were, but most seemed focused entirely on their own dresses, or the dances, or the men. It reminded her of her exchange with Thomas. Did any of this really matter in the long term? What would it be like to know you had a truly lasting legacy?
“Lady Rose?”
Rose, surprised to hear a male voice in this place, turned to find herself staring at Denis Northey, who had a half-amused sneer on his face. “Northey. What are you doing in this hallway?”
