“What precisely did he say to you while he carried you to Lady Hightower’s carriage?” Juliet asked. “It looked terribly romantic.”
“It should have been everything romantic,” Rosalind said, “and yet, he said so little!”
“What did he say, my dear,” Miss Mayton asked.
“Well,” Rosalind said, thinking back, “I said it was very brave to catch me as quickly as he did and he said, was it? Then I said that if he had not had to catch me, he would have set off after the thief. He said that was very likely. Then I said, very clearly, that I was impressed with his bravery and he said nothing at all!”
Slow tears had begun to roll down Rosalind’s cheeks, as the more she thought back on it, the more a heaviness gripped her heart. He had not been at all as she’d thought he would be.
“I think I may have been wrong,” she said. “I know I said I would not wilt, but I feel very wilted just now. I’m feeling exceedingly…unrequited.”
Rosalind’s sisters hopped on the bed and surrounded her. Finding herself enveloped in arms everywhere, all sorts of nice things whispered in her ear, and handkerchiefs dabbed at her eyes, she took a deep breath.
“Oh dear, what am I to do?” she whispered.
“Now, there, my love,” her aunt said, “there is no reason to despair. It occurs to me that men are the less…perceptive sex. I think we have only been too subtle for him to comprehend.”
“Really?” Rosalind asked. “A pickpocket was too subtle?”
“It appears so,” Miss Mayton said. “I have been very foolish not to see it after all the experience I have.”
“Do explain, Aunt,” Viola said.
“Let us just examine the facts,” Miss Mayton said, “Did not Phillipe hang himself because he did not have the foresight to wait until morning to hear if I received his note? Did not my Transylvanian duke mope about for years thinking I might come back and then when I very coincidentally ran into him again, throw himself off the castle walls? Did Hans perceive that his love could not be requited when I would not hold his hand? If he had, might he have stopped his growing love and not had to throw himself over the side of an Alpine cliff?”
“She makes sense, Rosalind,” Cordelia said. “Men are not as clever as one would hope. I have a mind to make my own requirement physical strength and then my gentleman can leave the thinking to me.”
“Examine the facts, my dear,” Miss Mayton said. “Whenever we are in range of the duke, does he not come straight to you?”
“He does, I have noted it myself,” Rosalind said.
“And does he not seem to hang on your every word?”
“I suppose so, at least it seems so.”
“And most importantly, does he pay any other woman that sort of attention?”
Rosalind dried her eyes. She had not considered that aspect of things. He did not seek out any other woman. Only her. That much she was sure of.
“And finally, do you suppose it was a coincidence that you said we would go to Madame Tussaud’s exhibition and then he turns up too?”
“That is so much evidence!” Juliet said.
“Our aunt must be right, Rosalind,” Viola said.
“If youareright, Aunt, what are we to do?”
Miss Mayton tapped her chin. “We will have to think on it. Whatever it is, it must be a deal more direct.”
“We’ll think of something, Rosalind,” Juliet said, patting her arm. “We always do.”
“While we think,” Miss Mayton said, “we ought to send flowers to Lady Hightower. She was very good to lend her carriage. Had she not, there would not have been the opportunity to be carried in the duke’s arms.”
Rosalind nodded. “You are right and I shall write a very nice note and not mention that vinaigrette at all.”
*
Balthazar had leftthe park and faced the wrath of Henri over the state of his clothes. After being apprised of the nature of the assault on fabric—plates and glasses thrown in the air on account of a pickpocket—Henri had pronounced the Bennington household an enemy to fine tailoring. And, therefore,hisenemy.
