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Rosabel began to wish the evening were over. She was no longer interested in the Season. She knew she had to marry, but it was beginning to feel overwhelming and burdensome. Perhaps it would have been better if her parents had arranged a match for her when she was an infant. She felt the puff of a sigh escaping her.
“You know Hilaria is cut from a different cloth. Don’t allow it to trouble you.”
“It doesn’t really bother me. I’m used to her at this point in life. I was just remarking, in fact, I wouldn’t have thought that you would be the type to offer to perform the introductions, either, if I had thought to imagine the experience.” Vicky looked around the room a little before turning back to her sister. “I can’t really say there’s anyone present that I haven’t been introduced to at some point. Even though this is my official debut Season, it’s not as though I’ve never been up to London.”
“I know, but surely you haven’t met everyone.”
“Thetonisn’t really that large of a group despite how crowded some of the ballrooms become.”
Rosabel had to acknowledge the truth of Vicky’s words. With a quick glance around to note that no one was paying particular attention to the two sisters, Bel asked her sister a personal question.
“What sort of husband are you hoping for?”
“One who loves horses and dogs,” her sister replied almost immediately.
“Vigilia that hardly narrows it down. That could be anyone present.”
“No, I disagree, Bel. Everyone probablyhashorses and dogs. But that doesn’t mean they love them. There is a difference. I think how a man treats his animals says a great deal about how he might treat his family, especially his wife.”
Rosabel stared at her sister, wondering if she ought to request further clarification. She needn’t have considered it for Vicky carried on to explain.
“Unfortunately, a man’s wife is pretty much his possession in the same way as his dog or his horse. Dogs and horses have feelings that many often choose to ignore. If a gentleman can be seen to care for his horses well, not pushing them harder than he ought to, and ensuring they are well fed and such, then there is a much better chance that he will do likewise with his wife.”
Rosabel blinked at Vicky, rather shocked by her sister’s words. “I would like to think your husband will treat you even better than his animals.” She hoped her voice was sufficiently moderated because a part of her felt as though she were about to yell at her sister. “You absolutely must set a higher valuation upon yourself.”
Vicky laughed. “I can assure you, I have an excellent valuation of myself, but I’m telling you, watch how the gentlemen treat animals. It tells you a lot.”
Rosabel thought to pursue the topic, feeling the need to protect her sister, but she pushed it to the back of her mind for the moment as two gentlemen were approaching to request their company for the next set that was just forming. Bel resolved to keep an eye on her little sister throughout the Season to ensure she didn’t pursue any questionable alliances based on her daft theory. While, of course, she would never want to be involved with someone who abused their animals, that was setting the bar a little too low, in Rosabel’s opinion, for who would make a good match.
With a sinking heart, Bel realized she would have to arrange for her sisters to be paired appropriately. She couldn’t fathom why her parents hadn’t done so already. If Vicky’s standard was so low, it shouldn’t be difficult to find her a good match. With their dowries, there was no shortage of interested, and eligible parties.
Her heart sank further as she imagined her mother’s reticence to match the younger girls was because she, Rosabel, was still unwed. But that was an antiquated tradition that she refused to feel rushed by. She gave her head a shake and returned her attention to her sister.
“Have you seen Hilaria? I would have expected her to be on the dance floor the entire night.”
Vicky grinned. “She has been talking about it enough, hasn’t she?” There was a pause while the younger girl looked around the glittering, crowded ballroom. “No, I haven’t seen her, but that isn’t really saying much. With how many are squeezed in here this evening, she could be just a few paces away and we might not see her.”
“We should be able to see the ridiculous feathers she had her maid stick in her hair this evening. I swear, I do often wonder what that girl is thinking.”
Vicky’s grin had not abated. “It is hard to fathom at times that we are all from the same household.”
“And related. And not even that far apart in age. Honestly, she is a mystery much of the time.”
There was no further discussion as they were swept into the next dance by their partners. A pleasant interlude passed. Rosabel, like all her sisters, did love to dance. She particularly enjoyed the country dances that didn’t allow a great deal of opportunity to converse. There was just the music and the movement. It was the purest joy she could experience during the Season. By the midpoint, the steps were familiar, and she knew she could trust the other dancers to keep their parts, so Bel allowed her gaze to drift around the ballroom once more.
She was looking for Hilaria, but her gaze stuttered to a stop when it landed upon Wexford. There was just something so compelling about the man. But she was puzzled why he would be in conversation with the cad, Lord Prescott. It lowered her opinion of him considerably. Not that he looked at all pleased to be having the conversation, but he did appear engrossed in it. A part of Rosabel wished she was near enough to overhear what was being said, while most of her was glad she was not.
She couldn’t tolerate Viscount Prescott despite how rude that made her feel. She wouldn’t want to risk being drawn into their conversation. Despite her aversion to Prescott, he was always drawn to her and would invariably try to speak with her whenever they were in the same room. It was as though he had completely forgotten their history. Or perhaps he thought to discomfit her.
Her interest must not have been sufficiently hidden, though she had tried to be discreet, only allowing her gaze to alight upon them when the dance put them directly in front of her. It didn’t look like a light social visit. From what she could see of Wexford’s face, he seemed totally focused upon Lord Prescott’s words. Until his gaze locked on hers. Rosabel tried to tear her eyes away from his and appear unaffected, as though she hadn’t just been caught examining him while he was deep in conversation with someone.
Willing her face not to betray the smallest inkling of her feelings, Rosabel addressed some innocuous question to her dance partner. The steps of the dance took her away from him before he could answer, which was just as well as she had no idea what she had actually asked the gentleman.
The rest of the night passed in a blur during which she found herself avoiding both Lord Prescott and Wexford. It wasn’t hard to do as she spent the entire evening on the dance floor, but it left her sufficiently exhausted that she slept late the next morning.
