Page 64 of The Lady’s Deception

She was going to make him see that he deserved happiness as much as she did.

Stretching, she sat up as the maid came in with hot water and wished her good morning. It would be good. She had something now that no one, not even Charles, could take from her.

“G’mornin’, Miss Gorse.” The young woman curtsied. “Her Grace sent me to help you dress.”

This, of course, meant borrowing more from Paris’s sister’s wardrobe. But the Duchess of Raynham’s clothes were considerably more lavish, both in style and quality, than plain Erica Burke’s had been. Rosamund chose a morning gown of fawn-colored poplin with a narrow stripe of pink, and with the maid’s skillful pinning, the dress looked as if it had been made for her.

“Pretty as a picture,” pronounced the maid. “Now, if you’ll sit down at the dressing table, I can help with your hair.” Rosamund, who was still in a mood to indulge herself, complied eagerly. The maid picked up a brush in one hand and section of hair in the other. “Goodness me, ma’am. What’s happened to your neck? Oh dear, and here on your cheek, too.”

Rosamund peered into the mirror at the mottled pink skin to which the maid pointed and remembered the pleasing burn of Paris’s rough beard. She flushed, turning her face redder still.

“Well, Her Grace keeps a pot o’ cream for rashes and things,” the maid reassured her and went back to fussing over her hair. “She makes it herself, in the stillroom at Hawesdale. From flower petals and the like. Seems she’s always getting’ her hands into something she shouldn’t.”

Once her hair was arranged, the sweetly scented lotion was found and applied. Not everywhere, of course; Rosamund was rather enjoying the more private reminders of Paris’s touch.

What had been his first thought upon waking up this morning? He’d fallen into such a deep sleep last night, she hadn’t been able to rouse him. Hadn’t been able to tell him what was in her heart. Though she’d been tempted to sleep beside him, it would have been inviting discovery. Instead she’d cleaned things up as best she could, managed to cover him with sheets and blankets though he’d still been lying crosswise on the bed, and sneaked back to her own chamber.

Would she see him at breakfast this morning? And if so, how did lovers keep from blushing whenever they laid eyes on one another?

She needn’t have worried. The breakfast parlor, a bright and airy room at the rear of the house overlooking the garden, contained only the duke and duchess and a pair of footmen, one on either end of a long sideboard filled with chafing dishes. Raynham laid aside his newspaper and rose when she entered. “Good morning, ma’am.”

“I hope you slept well, Miss Gorse,” said the duchess, smiling. Rosamund could not decide whether the words hinted at knowledge of anything that might have interfered with her rest.

“Thank you, yes.” The unvarnished truth. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt more relaxed, despite the worries that plagued her. “And the lecture—was it all you’d hoped?”

“Oh, indeed. Very informative. I’m hoping to supplement Mr. Beals’s research by examining the local botanical remedies for these tropical fevers. People do tend to underestimate the power of plants and flowers.”

“They underestimate the power of lady botanists, too,” said her husband, whose eyes were once more focused on his paper. “At their peril.”

Erica’s eyes flashed and then softened as she looked toward her husband with what Rosamund could only describe as a private smile. “Let me get you a plate, Miss Gorse,” she said, remembering herself and rising.

“I can serve myself. You’ve done so much already.”

“Nonsense. I’ve never been one for sitting still. Eggs? A bit of toast?”

A footman poured a cup of steaming chocolate and set it down at the empty place at the table. Rosamund realized suddenly that no fourth place had been set. “Your brother does not join us this morning?”

Erica gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “He was up at dawn. Might’ve gone for a ride with Raynham, but no. He insisted he had work to do. I daresay he’s arranging for his return to Dublin.” Her voice dropped, but Rosamund could’ve sworn she heard the duchess mutter, “Eejit.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Rosamund did not realize she had grabbed her fork at the wrong end until she felt the tines prick deep into the soft flesh of her palm. He couldn’t really be leaving her, not after last night?

As soon as the old doubt rose, she scuttled it. It was true that on each of the prior occasions when they’d shared an intimate moment—that first kiss, the inn in Wales—she’d woken to discover him gone. But he’d always come back to her. She had to trust that he would do so again.

Just then, a commotion in the corridor drew everyone’s attention, and without any announcement, the Dowager Duchess of Raynham entered the room, with her daughter, Daphne, and Bell in tow. Raynham’s stepmother was an elegant, fair haired woman, surely not forty years of age, who moved with the grace one expected of a duchess. Her daughter, dark haired and sallow, looked to be a little older than Daphne.

“Good morning, all,” the dowager duchess said, kissing both her stepson and her daughter-in-law on the cheek. “I hadn’t thought to call quite so early, but…” She gestured at the three girls huddled near the door, who giggled rather conspiratorially. “Daphne and Bellis were adamant that Viviane meet the famous Miss Gorse first thing.”

Stunned, Rosamund curtsied to the duchess and was nearly knocked over by Daphne and Bell, whose arms encircled her waist as she rose. “This is a pleasant surprise. I expected you to have forgotten all about me by now.”

“Oh, Miss Gorse,” Daphne chided. “How could we? We wouldn’t be in London if it weren’t for you. Paris never would’ve brought us otherwise.”

“And we wouldn’t have Eileen if it weren’t for you, either,” added Bell.

“Bell rescued the kitten,” she reminded them, as she greeted Lady Viviane and they all moved toward the table.

“But you rescued Paris,” said Erica, in a voice only for Rosamund’s ears.

Mr. Burke had said much the same only the day before. Instinctively, she parted her lips to deny it. She was the one in need of rescue. She was hardly in a position to be rescuing others.