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Chapter One
London, Autumn 1805
Rosabel tried to keep the jealousy from showing on her face. It would be decidedly uncouth to display any negativity at her friend’s wedding. Or rather her sister’s friend’s wedding, but what was the point of splitting hairs at the moment? It was just so obvious that the bride and groom were deeply in love with one another.
It was enough to curdle one’s stomach.
Especially if one wanted that for oneself.
This was Rosabel’s third Season, if one were counting. And, of course, everyone was. The only thing that was saving her was the fact that she, as an earl’s daughter and one who was considered beautiful at that, was in no rush to marry. She could pretend that it was her choice to remain unwed. And in a certain way it was. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t received offers. She just hadn’t accepted them. Thankfully, it was well known that she had received several offers so, she needn’t hide her face in shame. Not like her poor sister, Hilaria. Not that she had much sympathy for her. If Hilaria weren’t such a bear there might be more interest from the gentlemen.
Not only was Hil unfriendly and grouchy, she had let it be known she had no interest in anyone ranked lower than a duke! Foolish girl! She clearly hadn’t thought that through very well. She might not be the brightest spark in the hearth, but it isn’t hard to count how many princes and dukes there are in the realm. You don’t even need your toes to do the math. She should have at least included the marquises.
Rosabel once again made a conscious effort to control what might be conveyed in her expression. She nodded and exchanged pleasant smiles with a young lady across the room from her, who was watching her attentively. Probably looking for a reaction, spiteful little cat, Bel thought with an inward grimace while maintaining an even smile. She was determined that all present would think her nothing but delighted for the new Countess.
And she truly was, on one hand. Bel had no interest in Lord Crossly for himself, nor his title. But the obvious adoration on his face as Georgia had walked down the aisle toward him had nearly overset her. Why couldn’t an eligible gentleman look at her like that? Like how her own father still looked at her mother, despite her mother’s occasional less than appealing traits. That was what she wanted – a life partner to enjoy standing by her side for the rest of their lives.
It might not be fashionable. It might not be common. But Rosabel would marry for no other reason. And she would guard that secret until her death if she must. She wouldn’t allow anyone to mock her feelings. But she also wouldn’t accept a proposal that was not accompanied by deep feelings.
As she was composing her thoughts and turning a face of serenity to the crowds circulating through her mother’s rooms, Rosabel’s gaze encountered that of the Duke of Wexford. She tried to turn her attention away but for the first time since she had made his acquaintance, the duke seemed actually to be fully paying attention to her.
Tearing her gaze from his, Bel turned bodily away from him, even as she had the impression that he might be coming toward her. She refused to watch to see whether or not he did so.
“Lady Rosabel.”
It took effort, but Bel managed that not even so much as a hair reacted to the deep voice coming from just behind her right shoulder. However, inside she could feel quivers of excitement shivering to be released.
“Your Grace,” she acknowledged with the requisite curtsy. Bel ensured that she didn’t quite meet his eyes, keeping her gaze closer to his chin. For that reason, she couldn’t avoid seeing the briefest twitch of his lips. She almost blinked. Even more than she, the duke had a reputation for controlling his reactions with a will of iron.
“Your mother has outdone herself. I will admit, it was a surprise that she was to be hosting the wedding breakfast today.”
Bel kept her expression neutral. “Why would it be a surprise? Georgia has no one to do it for her, and she did make her debut in our home. We would be the logical choice, wouldn’t you think?”
“There’s no secret that Crossley doesn’t spare much thought for your mother,” the duke observed in his cool voice that made Bel wish to ruffle his composure.
She kept her own tone cool as she nodded in acknowledgement. “Perhaps, but since he doesn’t have any close family to speak of, he didn’t object to my mother’s offer. I suppose it saved him from doing it himself.”
This time she sensed rather than saw his twitch of reaction.
“So, you think he couldn’t be bothered to host his own fete to celebrate his great love?”
It took even more effort to control her reaction this time, but Bel was reasonably certain she had pulled it off. She was feeling rather less shivery over his deep voice, though, now that she was growing irritated with his reminder of the earl’s deep affection for his new wife. She forced herself to offer a negligent shrug, as though she couldn’t be bothered to care either way.
The duke laughed, and Rosabel wanted to stamp her foot and walk away from him. But, she controlled the urge and allowed a smile to touch her lips.
“You are an interesting female, Lady Rosabel. I’m surprised you haven’t fulfilled your ambition of landing a coronet.”
“Really, Your Grace? Are you offering yours?” Bel was ridiculously proud of herself for the boredom she could hear in her voice when she asked the question. And smirked a little as the duke laughed once more.
“Not at this time,” he answered without rancor, offering her a bow as he took his leave of her.
Bel didn’t watch him leave but was well aware of his progress through the rooms. She kept her gaze on the bride and thought over the duke’s words. With a sigh, she acknowledged that he was probably right. Crossley could easily have hosted his own wedding breakfast. He most certainly would have preferred it. But then it would have been Georgia hosting. And while she had come a long way very quickly, she wouldn’t have enjoyed her introduction to the role of countess to also coincide with being hostess to such a large gathering, and her wedding day no less.
Glancing at her mother, Bel had to acknowledge that the woman was in her element. Their poor mother hadn’t yet managed to marry off any of her own flock of daughters. Feeling that she had a role in Georgia’s match would make her feel that she had accomplished something. It also would allow her to save face. By demonstrating the family’s support of Georgia’s marriage to Lord Crossley, it would hide any embarrassment over the fact that he had chosen the unknown provincial girl over one of the Sherton sisters. Bel had to acknowledge that her mother was no fool, even if she was decidedly foolish at times.
As Rosabel continued to watch the circulating guests, she finally acknowledged that it was a kindness on Crossley’s part to allow Lady Sherton to host the event. As Wexford had said, there was no love lost between the earl and Bel’s mother. Bel wasn’t sure what the history was, but she suspected it had something to do with the earl’s first wife. She had been some sort of distant cousin to Lady Sherton. And Crossley held the countess to blame for something or other. From what she had gleaned from the few things Georgia had said, it hadn’t been a successful marriage. Perhaps the countess’ matchmaking inclination had been involved and Crossley held her accountable for his unhappy union. In the past, Bel had never paid much attention to the older branches of the family tree nor to the affairs of the members of such. With a huff of dissatisfaction that she quickly suppressed she realized that she ought to try to do so. She wasn’t a schoolroom miss any longer. She probably ought to learn to think of someone other than herself.
That bracing thought propelled her forward as she caught sight of the bride alone for the first time.
