The lady coughed and wheezed.
“You must be the Earl of Westmont,” Lady Hightower said to the earl. “Your daughter graced my drawing room with her playing the other night. Miss Mayton, how do you do?”
Balthazar noticed the earl color at the mention of his daughter’s playing, so he was not completely in the dark on such matters.
“This is Lady Hightower, Earl,” Miss Mayton said by way of introduction.
“Lady Hightower,” the earl said, “I thank you for your assistance just now.”
“Never fear, Earl, there is more to come,” Lady Hightower said. “Despite my vinaigrette, Lady Rosalind still droops like a tulip in the tropics.”
Lady Hightower was, of course, correct. Lady Rosalind was still limp in his arms, despite the surprise vinaigrette.
“My carriage is just there, very close, as I do not enjoy slogging across hill and dale to attend one of Lady Crinkleton’s self-congratulatory ceremonies. We all appreciate her efforts but I do not need to act the foot soldier to prove it. I will take Lady Rosalind into my carriage and give her a cool glass of ale. Conbatten? I do not imagine she can walk in her current condition.”
Having given everybody their marching orders, Lady Hightower picked up her skirts and sailed off in the direction of her carriage.
Balthazar had no recourse but to sweep Lady Rosalind into his arms and follow.
“It is very good of you to carry me, Duke,” Lady Rosalind said weakly. “You did catch me so quickly, it was very brave.”
“Was it?” he said.
“Of course, had I not fallen into your arms, I am certain you would have caught the thief.”
“Very likely,” he said.
“Naturally, a lady cannot help but to be impressed with the bravery of it all,” Lady Rosalind said with a deep sigh.
Balthazar pressed his lips together lest he laugh in the face of his drooping tulip. He had wondered if he watched some sort of stage play. Now he was rather certain of it.
Lady Rosalind was so intent on gentlemen displaying their courage and bravery that she’d begun to engineer opportunities for it. Who else had been a victim of her stratagems?
He could not imagine how in the world she’d done it, though. How had she gone about hiring herself a thief?
They reached Lady Hightower’s carriage and Balthazar placed Lady Rosalind gently on a seat.
“You can stay upright, Lady Rosalind?” Lady Hightower asked. “I am certain you can if you put the effort into it.”
Seeing that Lady Hightower insisted on it, Lady Rosalindwasable to keep herself upright.
Of course she was, the little minx.
“Very good, Conbatten,” Lady Hightower said. “You may be off.”
“I bid adieu to my rescuer,” Lady Rosalind said in a faint breathy voice.
Balthazar bowed. He closed the carriage door, turned, and got some way from the carriage before he allowed himself to snort with laughter.
Chapter Eleven
Rosalind had veryunexpectedly found herself in Lady Hightower’s carriage, sipping a glass of ale.
The lady had asked her an awful lot of questions! Did she often droop like that when faced with a trying circumstance? What was her opinion on Conbatten? How long had she known the duke? What were her ideas of a lady marrying for a title?
In between all the inquiries, she’d waved that awful vinaigrette under her nose.
Rosalind had answered the lady very vaguely, except for the last question. That one she answered very strongly—nobody was to imagine that Lady Rosalind Bennington cared anything for titles. Other young ladies might consider it good sense, but she viewed holding a title over love as the most foolish thing in the world.
