*
Balthazar had neverconsidered himself a person who laughed easily, but these days he felt like he was on the verge of laughter often.
Lady Rosalind’s story about the lovesick and very rash baron was both hilarious and alarming. She was clearly plotting out some new opportunity for the gentlemen in her sphere to display their dedication and bravery.
How would it be done though? Where would she dig up a lovestruck and out of his wits baron and his short and fat brother Archibald?
He could not think she meant to try any such thing. Rather, she would go round the Town sighing and mentioning this problematic baron, waiting for someone to declare they would meet the fellow at dawn.
She was a daring and adorable creature.
Would she be daring enough, though, to be easy of mind if a husband left the house at midnight to venture into the Rats’ Castle?
“I wonder, Lady Rosalind,” he said cautiously, now that the other guests within hearing talked of some new play or other, “what your views might be on duty? Duty can sometimes be onerous, or even dangerous at times.”
“If it is a duty,” Lady Rosalind said, “then it must be done no matter how onerous or dangerous. Naturally, one would give all for one’s family.”
“Yes, I suppose they would. Unless it could be avoided.”
“A person ought not avoid it if it is a duty, though,” Lady Rosalind said. “For instance, two summers ago my sister Juliet was stung by a hornet. She was in terrible pain over it. As I am known to be courageous in my family, it was my duty to approach the nest and knock it down so they never could sting her again.”
“And so you did knock it down?” Balthazar asked.
“No, not in the end,” Lady Rosalind admitted. “It turns out they build surprisingly sturdy nests and so after I climbed a ladder and hit it with a broom they got very angry and I was stung quite a lot. But still, it was a duty to try. In any case, my sister felt ever so much better knowing that I had answered their insult.”
She paused, then said, “And Juliet could not feel too bad over her swollen arm when she saw what happened to my face.”
Balthazar smiled. Lady Rosalind’s battle with the hornets did not tell him much about how she would view his various forays on behalf of the queen, but it was engaging, nonetheless.
He had a great urge to trace his finger along one of her cheeks and gripped his napkin instead.
It was getting harder to resist those sorts of inclinations.
Perhaps he ought to consult with the queen. He felt the need to consult with somebody and she was the only person who could comment directly on whether he had the right to indulge his feelings.
His ever-growing feelings, it seemed.
In the meantime, he was happy to listen to Lady Rosalind very charmingly natter on about the battle of the hornets. It turned out that not only had her hornets built a very sturdy nest, but they were easily enraged, exceedingly energetic, and had chased her all the way back to the house. Some had even got into the house and the footmen chased after them with brooms while Lady Rosalind and her sisters hid behind curtains in the drawing room.
As dessert was served, his thoughts were brought back to the present and the very well-fashioned pianoforte he’d noticed in Lord Cannerly’s drawing room. In a matter of a half hour, they would find themselves back in that room and opportunities for playing would present themselves.
He would consider it a success if he was able to keep Lady Rosalind and that instrument forever parted.
He would not like to view Lady Worthington’s expression were she to be taken on atravel through the world of music. He certainly would not like Lady Rosalind to view such an expression. She may have been stung by hornets, but he would prefer she not be stung by Lady Worthington’s or anybody else’s looks of incredulity.
“Do you play piquet, Lady Rosalind?”
Chapter Fourteen
Rosalind had foundher sisters all splayed on her bed and asleep when she arrived home. They’d since woken up and Miss Mayton had hurried in, dressed in her nightclothes and a nightcap.
She’d told her sisters all about the evening—how Conbatten had taken her into dinner and then urged her to play piquet with him, rather than entertain the party at the pianoforte.
Miss Jenson had played the instrument instead and once Rosalind heard her cautious and rather insipid stylings, she’d comprehended Conbatten’s intent. The dear man had not wished for poor Miss Jenson to feel as if she could not measure up to a travel through the world of music.
Rosalind had not mentioned feeling a bit outclassed by Lady Worthington, as she did not like to think of it. And, after all, Conbatten had not urgedthatlady to piquet, had he?
“I have prepared him so when the carriage arrives and he receives the challenge to a duel, he will not be caught unawares, as it seems he was with our pickpocket,” she said.
