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“So, the great husband hunt is still on, and the game is afoot?” Rosalin asked playfully and Eleanor had to resist swatting her with the back of her hand.
“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about all this,” Eleanor said, glancing at her friend through the corner of her eye.
While she enjoyed Rosalin’s company, she always felt a little intimidated by her presence. The two women shared similar features, what with their silk spun, red hair, and their crystal-clear blue eyes, but where Eleanor was small and curvaceous, Rosalin was tall and elegant. She was a whole five years older than Eleanor, and she carried herself with a regality that Eleanor was sure she couldn’t even attempt to mimic.
Rosalin had married in just her first season, tying the knot in a grand ceremony to George Button, the Earl of Clay. He was a boorish man, with a balding head and a brash manner. Rosalin had confessed to Eleanor that she only agreed to marry him nine years ago because her mother had forced her into the union. And so, every season since, Rosalin made the rounds, dancing with eligible bachelors, making it just a teensy bit more difficult for women, like Eleanor, to find their own suitable matches.
“As you said,” Rosalin said with an impish grin, “I’m already married. I don’t really care what any of these gentlemen think of me.”
“Yes, you do,” Eleanor rejoined, putting down her glass of punch and turning to look at Rosalin squarely.
“Yes . . . I do. . .” Rosalin said slowly. She finished off her own drink and then put the glass daintily on the table. “You know, Eleanor, finding a husband is only part of the challenge.”
“Indeed?” Eleanor questioned, her thin eyebrows quirking in surprise.
“Oh, yes,” Rosalin replied. “A lady must also seek out happiness.”
Eleanor groaned. “I’m perfectly happy as I am. Why must I rely on a man? It’s not as if he can fill some void in my life. . .” As Eleanor was turned so she was looking only at Rosalin, she did not notice her brother Frederick’s rapid approach. She only quieted when she realized that Rosalin was looking just over her shoulder and no longer paying any attention to what she was saying.
“You need a husband, little sister, because I am quite through with you,” Frederick said in a light-hearted way. When she turned to him, he gave her a cold smile and she knew that even though he said his words in a nonchalant tone, he was not joking.
“But Frederick-” Eleanor began, and he cut her off abruptly.
“Lady Clay, you are looking as lovely tonight as ever,” Frederick said, bowing his head respectfully toward Rosalin.
Her blue eyes brightened, and she gave him a charming smile. “Thank you, Lord Barrow. I am happy to see you this evening. I thought we locked eyes earlier, but my glance must have escaped your notice.”
“Oh, nothing escapes my notice,” Frederick whispered roguishly and then he winked at Rosalin. Eleanor made a disgusted face as she looked back and forth between her friend and her brother.
“Rosalin. . .” Eleanor started, but again, Frederick spoke over the top of her.
“I am hoping to entice you to join me for the next dance number, Lady Clay,” Frederick said, a smile spreading onto his fine features. Frederick and Eleanor might be related, but they had very little in common. Frederick had dark brown hair, that carried tints of red in it. His eyes were light, like Eleanor’s, but they tended to look more green than blue. His complexion, while as fair as his sister’s, was dotted with tiny freckles, giving him a boyish look, even though he was several years older than his sister.
Rosalin nodded her head, “I accept your invitation, My Lord.”
He smiled appealingly at Rosalin and then he averted his eyes momentarily to glance at his younger sister. Eleanor straightened her spine and stood proudly under his withering gaze. “Now, as for you, little sister, I suggest you find yourself a suitable dance partner. The time has come for you to marry and you cannot entice any eligible bachelors if you spend all night here at the refreshment table.”
“But Rosalin secured your hand for the next dance, and she is standing right next to me,” Eleanor replied, a challenge in her voice.
Frederick gave her a cold glare. He leaned in closely and whispered in her ear, careful not to allow Rosalin to overhear what he said, “Listen closely, Eleanor. I’ve had enough of your childish antics. You have made a laughingstock of our family with your ridiculous manners. Find yourself a husband tonight. For if you do not, I will be forced to act.”
Eleanor pulled away from him incrementally and stared intently up into his stern face. “But Frederick, what if I am unable? What if I cannot find a husband tonight?”
Frederick smiled at Rosalin over top of Eleanor’s head and then he inched closer to his sister so that they were nose-to-nose. “Should you be unable to secure yourself a marriage proposal this evening, I will be forced to drive you from the house. You and all your preposterous pets will have to find yourselves a new abode.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Eleanor seethed, her chin jutting out as she ground her teeth.
“Try me,” Frederick returned darkly.
“But you cannot do such a thing,” Eleanor protested, keeping her voice low, so as not to draw attention.
“Watch me,” Frederick answered. He tipped his head toward hers so that their foreheads were nearly touching. “Find yourself a husband tonight, Eleanor, or be prepared to see exactly what I’m willing to do.” His green eyes sparkled maliciously, and Eleanor felt her stomach lurch. She knew Frederick was not having a go at her. He was perfectly serious.
“I shall try,” Eleanor whispered.
“See that you make it a priority,” Frederick murmured and then he straightened his spine. He glanced at Rosalin once more, and his features which had darkened considerably, became light again. “I look forward to our dance, Lady Clay.” He inclined his head toward her and then strode off at once. Eleanor turned to Rosalin, and she felt defeated. She tried to hide her dismay, but she knew she was doing a poor job of it.
“It’s not all bad, you know,” Rosalin said at length.
