AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Rosaline itched to dance. She’d always liked dancing, especially the loud, fast dances where you always made mistakes but nobody noticed because it was so very, very fast.
She didn’t suppose Lord Benedict was the type of gentleman to whirl a lady round and round, during a country reel, hollering at the top of his voice.
There was a soft cough to their right, and Rosaline turned to see a tall, thin man with a mop of ginger hair fighting its way through the copious amounts of pomade he’d used to smooth it down. He had a thin face, a shy smile, and buck teeth that weren’t quite hidden behind his lips. He had a kind expression, Rosaline thought.
Lord Benedict, sounding incredibly bored, made the introductions. The gentleman was one Lord Alexander Gately, who would one day be the Duke of Shropshire.
“May I congratulate you on your courtship. Or is it an engagement now? The gossips couldn’t make up their mind.” Lord Alexander said, smiling at them. He had a slight lisp, which Rosaline thought was quite sweet.
“It is a courtship for now.” Rosaline answered, since it seemed clear that Lord Benedict wouldn’t. “We hope that will come to an arrangement soon.” She smiled lovingly up at him, in a piece of acting which was worthy of any stage.
Lord Benedict favored her with a brief smile, leaving Rosaline feeling a little put out. If he wanted her to convince Society that they were a loving couple, he would need to put in some work too.
“Well, as I said, congratulations. Not all of us have been so lucky as to find our life’s partner yet. Miss Wyre, I see you’re not dancing? Your Grace, why do you not dance with her?”
Lord Benedict favored him with a stare. “I’m not sure I’m in a dancing mood.”
“Isee. That’s quite understandable, it’s a dreadful crush in here. Miss Wyre, would you favor me with a dance? The set is just beginning.”
Rosaline had not been expecting that. She glanced up at Lord Benedict. He was staring at Lord Alexander as if seeing him for the first time.
“Your Grace?” she prompted, when it didn’t seem as though he was going to say anything. She probably didn’tneedhis permission to go and dance with another man, but they were supposed to be practically betrothed. It would look odd.
“By all means.” Lord Benedict said finally. “Go, have fun.”
Lord Alexander took her hand, leading her towards the dance floor. Rosaline glanced over her shoulder and saw Lord Benedict standing stock still where she’d left him, staring dangerously after her.
CHAPTER14
Benedict imagined throwing a glass of red wine at Lord Alexander’s pristine, pale-yellow waistcoat. He imagined the stain spreading, never to come out.
No, no, no. I amnotburning with jealousy over Rosaline Wyre. I’m not even going to marry the girl. If Lord Alexander falls in love with her, they’d make an excellent pair.
Actually, no, they wouldn’t. Rosaline needed to secure a good husband, preferably someone wealthy enough to keep her and her siblings safe, and powerful and firm enough to ward off her awful parents. Lord Alexander was certainly rich enough, but if he married someone penniless and disgraced, his odious father would disinherit him in favor of one of his younger brothers.
He sighed, closing his eyes. Now that he’d realized that Rosaline and Lord Alexander wouldn’t suit at all – and he knew Lord A. of old, and knew he’d just want to steal away what he presumed was a great heiress – he was duty-bound to let her know.
Benedict began to move through the crowd. Between his formidable reputation and his false lover, he was more or less left alone. That was fine. Benedict liked to be left alone.
His height allowed him to see over the heads of the crowds, and he could see the dance floor across the room. Couples swirled around each other, smiling and laughing. He caught a glimpse of a head of orange hair, and dark curls that belonged to Rosaline.
She was laughing, he was sure of it. Something twisted inside Benedict, something sharp and angry, something that left a sour taste in his mouth which had nothing to do with the watery punch.
Setting down the offending glass with aclack, he moved towards the dance floor.
He received murmured congratulations, and received compliments on Miss Wyre’s beauty, charm, and manners. Benedict wasn’t entirely sure why he was receiving the compliments. He was certainly happy to acknowledge her beauty, and certainly her wit and charm, buthecouldn’t take credit for any of it. It wasn’t as if he had anything at all to do with Rosaline’s good looks.
He’d bought her the dresses, certainly, but even the finest gown couldn’t brighten a plain face, and the dullest gown couldn’t temper a beautiful one.
Although perhaps Benedict was alone in that belief. According to Society, the clothes very much made the man (or woman), and there was no getting around it.
He was at the edge of the dance floor now. It was a fast dance, a country dance, but there would be a few quiet instants, allowing the dancers to take a breath. He chose his spot among the crowd of clapping onlookers and waited.
He’d chosen well. Rosaline skidded to a halt, chest heaving, and clapped while some other dancers promenaded down the center of the space. It would be her turn soon enough.
He reached forward and tapped her on the shoulder.
Rosaline squeaked, spinning around, eyes wide. She sagged in relief when she saw that it was him.
