The fates had not failed her. He was here and he was as magnificent as he had been on horseback.
He was exceedingly tall, which was far more noticeable now that he was off his horse. Everything else, though, was as she remembered. His tailoring was perfection, his slim frame and broad shoulders were perfection, his strong jaw and those high, prominent cheekbones, his hooded eyes…he was simply magnificent.
Rosalind felt a little sick, and she remembered Beatrice saying she had felt just the same when she realized her love for Van Doren. It was not on the list of Miss Mayton’s signs of true love, but it could very well be an inherited family trait.
She leaned toward Miss Mayton and whispered, “It is him. He is here.”
Miss Mayton followed her eyes toward the magnificent gentleman.
“Him?” she asked, her tone all surprise.
The earl interrupted them. “Rosalind, Miss Mayton, do be introduced to my very old friend, Lord Cannerly. He and I have not crossed paths these twenty years.”
Rosalind was forced to turn away from her magnificent gentleman, but not before she saw Lady Jersey approach him. She prayed her name was on Lady Jersey’s lips just now. It must be so, the fates would not disappoint her in such a manner.
Lord Cannerly was a jolly fellow and after they were duly introduced, he and her father spoke of long-past days and their various battles over piquet.
“Now Earl,” Miss Mayton said, “while it is usual that you and I defeat another couple at whist, I insist that you and Lord Cannerly have the opportunity to pick up your piquet battles once more. Lord Darden and I can stay with Rosalind in the ballroom.”
The earl was delighted with the idea, as was Lord Cannerly. Rosalind was so admiring of her aunt’s forethought on the matter.
The two gentlemen set off very happily together.
Behind her, Rosalind heard a deep voice say, “Darden.”
She slowly turned, certain of who she should find there. She was certain no other voice could make her shiver, as if a cold breeze had blown through the room. It was him.
“Hello!” Darden said, seeming almost nervous. “Your Grace, may I present my sister, Lady Rosalind.”
The duke bowed. “Miss Mayton, Lady Rosalind.”
“Rosalind, this is the Duke of Conbatten,” Darden sputtered.
Conbatten! Of course it must be Conbatten. Hadn’t she known it the first time Beatrice had ever mentioned his name? Or, if she had notknownit, she did remember thinking it was a very fine name.
Rosalind curtsied. “Your Grace,” she said.
“Lady Jersey has given me leave to put myself down on your card, if you are not opposed to it,” Conbatten said.
“Opposed to it?” Rosalind said. “I would think not.”
The duke had a rather bemused expression as he took her card.
“I suppose it will be for supper,” Rosalind said.
“Do you suppose that?” the duke asked her quizzically.
“Do not you think so?” Rosalind asked.
“Rosalind,” Darden said, sounding on the verge of becoming hysterical, “I hardly think—”
Conbatten held a hand up and Darden stopped talking. “If Lady Rosalind supposes it, then it must be true,” he said, penciling in his name.
He bowed and walked off chuckling.
“Rosalind!” Darden whispered. “That was Conbatten, you understand, and that was rather…my God I do not know what it was.”
“It was rather direct, I would say,” Miss Mayton said.
