—Sir Walter Scott,Marmion
Chapter Seventeen
If you be affronted, it is better…to pass it by in silence and with a jest, though with some dishonor, than to endeavor revenge…If you can keep reason above passion, that and watchfulness will be your best defendants.
—Isaac Newton
Every so often, I had the awful dream of being naked in front of the entiretonduring my come-out. All the guests would be dressed in their finery, and when it was my turn, instead of descending the staircase wearing the most beautiful gown, I wouldn’t have a single stitch of clothing covering me. I’d be exposed to all and sundry, and everyone could clearly see each imperfection, each blemish, and each secret flaw I tried so valiantly to hide. They would know that beneath all the silk and jewels, I was nothing but a fraud. The way I’d always felt on the inside—like I never belonged in the first place.
Well,thiswas exponentially worse than that.
My eyes were locked on Tarik, all the words of explanation lodged in my throat like jagged rocks. I could feel Will’s baffled stare and the rapt interest of the twins, as well as Blake’s riveted curiosity. Of all the people here, he knew me best.
At least, until I’d met Tarik.
But my brain was clogged with so many falsehoods that it was difficult to sort through them all. The lives of my Ansel alter ego and Lady Rosalin were colliding in a manner that made it impossible to separate them…and yet, I had to. For everyone’s sake.
“Rosalin,” my mother’s voice called out, and my eyes fluttered shut as I knew my father wouldn’t be far behind to witness this absolute catastrophe. Sure enough, hushed murmurs through the ballroom preceded the duke’s approach.
“Castleton,” my father commanded, making me jump, as he bore down on Blake, whose gaze went wide. “What’s this I hear about Greece? My nephew has been at university. My solicitor has been receiving regular reports from the Master of the College.”
My jaw clenched. Someone must have overheard Blake’s careless words and scurried over to tell the duke.
“Uh…” Blake’s mouth opened and closed like a dying fish, his face going an awful color of puce at the secret he’d inadvertently revealed. “N-nothing, Your Grace…”
“Speak up, boy,” my father said in a low voice that did not bode well for anyone. It was when he got quiet that people had to worry. As Ansel’s best mate, Blake would know that better than anyone, considering how much trouble he and my cousin had been in over the years.
You could hear a pin drop as Blake licked dry lips. “H-he’s…No, it was a silly jest…”
My father’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline.
I am so cooked.
In my peripheral vision, I could see necks craning as people strained to see why the duke and duchess had marched outside to the terrace. Could this get any worse? How many people were going to behold my impending downfall? My palms were clammy, my nerves shot to hell as I ran through each scenario that could save me, discarding them as quickly as they rose.
Somehow, I had to come cleanwithoutending up in disgrace.
WithoutTarikbeing a casualty of my hubris.
I sucked in a breath. “Papa, this is all my f—”
But the whispered start of my confession was overshadowed by a sudden rumpus in the ballroom, music petering out and the sounds of chatter rising anew as someone unexpected burst in through the upper doors. “By God, is this a party, or is this aparty?”
We all swiveled in shock at the very familiar voice.
And there stood my cousin at the top of the stairs in all his dandyish glory, and the unexpected answer to my very fervent prayers. Goodness, I had never felt so relieved in all my life.
Had he received my letter? I hadn’t wanted him here for the ball, considering the knife-edged balancing act of my two identities, but in truth, his timing could not have been better…not that it would save me from what was to come with Tarik, but at least my father was one less calamity to worry about. My cousin descended the staircase three steps at a time like an uncultured lout, and the crowd parted to let him through.
He embraced my mother, kissing her on the cheek. “Auntie Susu, don’t you look radiant.”
“Ansel, dearest, we do not conduct ourselves thus,” she chidedhim, smiling, and I could hear the sudden intake of breath from behind me like another nail in my proverbial coffin.
“Sorry, Auntie,” he said jovially. “Hullo, Uncle. Took me forever to get here. My sincerest apologies for being late.”
“Clearly, you’re not in Greece,” the duke said, eyes narrowed as he glared at poor Blake, who visibly quailed from the withering blast of irritation.
Ansel shrugged with a relaxed grin. “Of course not, Uncle. I wouldn’t dare miss Auntie Susu’s ball.” He embraced his own mother, who appeared beside my parents, delighted to see her son.
