He sighed. “Another night of celibacy, then,” he said. “And don’t tell me that it is good for my soul, Rosamund, or I’ll throttle you.”
“All right,” she said, “but I’m sure it is.”
They looked at each other and laughed a little ruefully.
Chapter 15
There were times over the next two days when Rosamund regretted that she had not gone with Lord Beresford the night the betrothal was announced. Everyone about her seemed happy—Annabelle was positively bubbling with high spirits—and called upon her to share their joy.
Her brother was as good as his word, and was treating her as an equal instead of as a much younger sister for whose life and happiness he was responsible. He went riding with her one morning and confided his satisfaction in having secured such a dazzling future for Annabelle.
“And she seems so happy with her betrothal, doesn’t she, Rosa?” he said. “That is what is important, after all. When I married Lana, I suppose there were those who saw it only as a very good match for me, but I think I would have married her if she had been a pauper.”
Rosamund smiled and gazed fondly at him. Since the age of ten, she had seen him only as the elder brother who tried to play father to her. Now she could see him as a man of feeling, a man with a great deal of love for his family, including her. She regretted the lost years.
“And we have only Anna,” he said, “It has saddened Lana that there were never any more. Anna’s happiness has been the focus of all our hopes.”
“Well,” Rosamund said, “you will probably have half a dozen grandchildren to fuss over, Dennis.”
He smiled at her while a pain knifed through her heart at the thought that the father of those grandchildren would be Justin.
And Lana was happy. She took Rosamund into her sitting room one morning and talked about the wedding and the bride clothes while they both stitched at their embroidery.
“You must come to London with us, Rosa,” she said, “to help Anna and me with the shopping. You have such a good sense of style.”
“And yet,” Rosamund said, “I have been shut away in Lincolnshire for nine years.”
“But I am not talking about fashion,” her sister-in-law said. “A sense of style and color is innate, and you have it, Rosa. Will you come?”
Rosamund smiled and agreed. Yes, she would help Justin’s bride to dress, in style. They were talking about a wedding trip to Italy.
Annabelle herself was like a coiled spring. She was almost constantly flushed and animated. She talked more in those two days than she had since Rosamund had returned home with Dennis. And always it was about Justin and what he had told her about his life and his home and what plans he had for them and where he was to take her.
“But finally we are going to settle on his estate,” Annabelle said. “In the country, Aunt Rosa. Aren’t I fortunate? My children will be born there. Oh, I hope I have a son first. I am so very happy.”
Rosamund was a little afraid that the girl would work herself into a fever. There was something almost desperate about her happiness. Clearly she had made her decision during that night of doubts and was living out that decision with all her determination.
There had been a reply from Leonard’s cousin, and Rosamund was very welcome to go there whenever she liked and stay as long as she liked. Her trunk was open in her room and many of her possessions packed away already. But the days before she could decently leave passed at a snail’s pace and she seemed trapped inside everyone’s happiness.
She smiled and tried not to draw attention to herself by behaving in any way different from what might be expected of the aunt of the newly betrothed girl.
But there were times when she regretted her rejection of Lord Beresford. A discreet affair would have distracted her mind. And she had no doubt that Josh would have made it a pleasant, even exciting, sexual experience. There was no reason why it should not have been as thoroughly satisfactory as her affair with Justin had been. Perhaps by the time she had left, she would have been in love with Josh.
After all, she told herself, there had been no more love or commitment when she had agreed to make love with Justin. Some of the reasons she had given Josh for not going with him were somewhat hypocritical.
But there was a difference. She had wanted Justin. Perhaps the wanting had been a purely physical thing, at least at first, but even so it had been he she had wanted. She did not want Josh. She merely wanted comfort, forgetfulness, distraction.
No, she decided every time she looked at Josh and wondered if it would be possible to get him to renew his offer, she could not do it. She could not make love with a man merely because she could not have the man she loved.
Fortunately, perhaps, for her fragile strength of will, Lord Beresford did not renew his advances or even speak with her privately.
When the marquess’s birthday finally arrived, Rosamund felt almost cheerful. This was the final day of her ordeal— of this portion of it, at least. The next day she would be able to leave. And there was plenty of activity to keep her busy throughout the day. She helped with the gathering and arrangement of the flowers for the ballroom in the morning and part of the afternoon, and busied herself for the rest of the afternoon washing her hair and getting herself ready for the ball.
By the time dinner approached, she was counting the hours. She would have Dennis’ carriage come for her immediately after luncheon. She had fewer than twenty-four hours left at Brookfield.
It was possible—yes, it would be possible after all to live through those hours.
Annabelle had tried to help with the flower arrangements rather than join in the actitivies of her other young cousins. But whereas she had been quite competent about the gathering of the flowers from the hothouses, she had never had an eye for arrangements. After either her mother or one of her aunts had rearranged several of the vases she had been satisfied with, she decided to wander off into the formal gardens and get some fresh air before going to her room to prepare for the evening.
