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“What are you doing?” she whispered. “I’m dancing. I don’t think you’re allowed to cut in. Wait, is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. Just meet me in the sunroom after the dance is finished, won’t you?”
Rosaline frowned. “Are you sure nothing’s wrong? You’re acting oddly.”
“Not at all. Enjoy your dance.”
Benedict saw Lord Alexander coming forward to take Rosaline’s hand, and he melted back into the crowd, heading towards the sunroom.
The sunroom was not technically open to the guests.
The terrace was available for not-so-private conversations, under the watchful eye of the chaperons. Benedict had no time or patience for those bitter, disapproving matrons, determined that their charges wouldn’t have a shred of fun until they were firmly bundled into marriage and responsibility.
There was a thin, nervous-looking footman posted near the sunroom door, obviously considered not quite handsome and confident enough to be posted anywhere more visible.
He’d wilted under Benedict’s calm, level stare, and said nothing as the duke passed by. Benedict pushed open the doors into the sunroom and stepped inside, leaving the door ajar.
The Viscountess’ sunroom was something of a modern addition, and not a particularly good one. It might have been a pleasant room, were it not for the low ceilings and tasteless décor. On a cool night like this, the temperature was quite bearable, but Benedict suspected that on a hot day, this room would become a sweltering inferno. He imagined that the Viscountess and her family would avoid the sunroom, only sending hapless maids to sweat profusely as they cleaned and dusted.
There were a few overstuffed sofas scattered around with deliberate carelessness. Benedict sat on one, and immediately began to fidget. They were designed to look comfortable and inviting but were nothing of the kind.
Blast the Viscountess and her vulgar tastes,Benedict thought in irritation.There’s not a comfortable spot to be found in this whole wretched house.
The door creaked open, light from the bright hallway outside spilling into the darker sunroom. There were only a few candles in here. The guests weren’t mean to be in the sunroom, so the room was dark and silent.
Rosaline hesitated in the doorway, squinting into the room. She flinched when Benedict got to his feet, the movement revealing himself.
“Oh. There you are.” She said uncertainly. “I thought I’d gotten the wrong room.”
“Not at all.”
Rosaline glanced over her shoulder, then stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“We aren’t supposed to be in here. The sunroom is off limits to guests.”
“In parties like these, nobody really cares where you go, so long as you don’t go snooping in the bedrooms or rifling through the drawers in the study.”
Rosaline came closer, almost close enough to touch.
Almost.
She was still at least an arm’s length away, her large eyes very dark in the gloom. She was looking up at him, watching him the way a rabbit might watch a bird of prey above.
“Well, whatever you say. What did you want, Lord Benedict?”
Benedict hesitated. The answer that sprang to mind was not one he could say.
Icouldn’t bear to see you dancing with that man.
“Lord Alexander isn’t a suitable person for you to pursue. He won’t marry you, and even if he did, it wouldn’t work.”
Rosaline frowned. “I thought you said that you planned to help me find a suitor.”
“Idid. I do. And now I’m telling you that Lord A isn’t the man.”
“Why not? He seemed perfectly kind and pleasant.”
“He is. However, he is also reliant on his father. Lord Alexander has no money of his own, and he has a small crowd of younger brothers. His father is mercenary and an exceptionally cruel man. He won’t be blinded by our public courtship. All he’ll see is a girl with no money from a disgraced family. If Lord Alexander marries you, he’ll be cut off without a penny, and probably passed over for the title. So, either you’ll be a miserable poor couple, or Lord Alexander will do the sensible thing and prevent things from getting that far.”
