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7
Romy scoured the terrace for any sight of her cousin, but Lady Richardson didn’t appear to be on the terrace circulating with the other guests. After bursting into her room as Romy was making herself presentable after the journey, her cousin had chastised Romy for her late arrival before departing in a flurry of skirts.
Romy and Theo came down a short time later and were directed outside by a servant, but Cousin Winnie was nowhere to be found.
Nor was Blythe, much to Theo’s dismay.
Miss Waterstone greeted Romy warmly, visibly surprised to find her at The Barrow. As were Lady Meredith Clare and Lady Mildred Dresser.
Rosalind took Romy’s arm. “I’m not sure where Mama has gone, but she made me promise to make sure you stayed on the terrace so you can be properly introduced to Lady Molsin.”
“I still haven’t forgiven you for the invitation.” Romy leaned over and whispered in her cousin’s ear. “But I like the dress, by the way.”
“You designed it.” At Romy’s look, she said, “Phaedra told me. And don’t be cross. No one will hear of your secret from my lips. I’m rather proud of you. I lack all but the most basic of talents.”
Romy took in her cousin’s petite, slightly rounded form. “You’ve marvelous instincts about dough.”
“True.” A smile hovered at her lips. “But Mama doesn’t allow me to make pastries anymore.” She patted a generously curved hip. “At any rate,” she nodded at Theo, “you can’t depend on me to save her from her own foolishness in regard to Blythe. Not when I’ve my own problems to deal with. I’m terrified Lord Torrington means to offer for me. He’s arriving with Mr. Waterstone tomorrow.”
“He’s quite an attractive gentleman,” Romy offered.
“And twice my age.” Rosalind appeared deflated by her mother’s determination to marry her off to the older, widowed earl. “He wants more a brood mare than wife.”
“You’d be a young widow.”
“It isn’t funny, Romy, and you aren’t being helpful.”
“I’m trying to help you see the positives in the situation.”
“Hmph.” Her eyes widened slightly. “I think I’ll fetch a small plate while Mama is occupied elsewhere. Excuse me.”
“Rosalind, where are you—”
“Lady Andromeda, I’m surprised to find you here,” Lady Beatrice intoned from behind Romy, trying and failing to keep the dislike out of her otherwise dulcet tones.
“No more than I am myself, Lady Beatrice,” Romy answered, silently cursing Rosalind for her abandonment. Keeping a serene, composed look on her features, she tried to think of more pleasant things than speaking to Beatrice. Honey on toast, for example. A bolt of fine tulle. The sound of her pencil as she sketched out a new gown.
Strangling Rosalind.
“I confess, Lady Andromeda, I was quite shocked to learn you would be attending with Lady Theodosia.” Beatrice glanced at Theo, who was discreetly squinting, fingers trailing across the stone wall as she moved forward. “Is your sister well? She seems a bit...out of sorts.”
“Perhaps unsteady from being in a coach for so long.” Theo had already tripped over a table leg. Her vision was much more impaired without her spectacles than Romy had been led to believe. “It was very kind of Lady Molsin to include us along with Lady Richardson. She and Miss Richardson are cousins of ours.”
“Lady Molsin is kindness itself,” Beatrice replied with a small hint of steel, her annoyance at not being consulted on the guest list apparent. “She only neglected to inform my mother and me.”
“We were a last-minute addition.”
“Apparently.”
Romy glanced out over the rolling waves of flowers, broken up by only a narrow gravel path which disappeared into the gardens. Now that the required pleasantries were over, she and Beatrice had little to say to one another, each searching for an excuse to end this awkward but necessary greeting.
“Does Granby have an orchard?” she said to Beatrice, searching for something to say. Romy could just make out what appeared to be apple trees at the edge of the immense lawn.
“I’ve no idea.” Beatrice drummed her fingers against her skirts, lips pursed, the thin veneer of politeness beginning to fray about the edges.
I should tell her I designed her ballgown. Just to give her fits.
A smile broke across Beatrice’s lips, turning her from merely beautiful to absolutely stunning as she waved excitedly at someone behind Romy.
