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Rosaline sat outside Dainty’s Tea Shop and waited, trying not to preen in her fabulous dress. She’d learned long ago not to be vain about trivial things like dresses and nice things. They didn’t change a person, and nice things weren’t the beginning and end of happiness.
Of course, Rosaline and her family werenothappy, but that really had nothing to do with dresses, or the lack thereof.
She’d chosen a good spot, near enough to the tea shop to keep an eye on things, but not so close as to be seen. There were downsides to choosing a yellow dress, even one that flattered her as much as this one. She was nowverynoticeable.
Cordelia hadn’t given much thought as tohowRosaline was to put off the Duke. She had, after a few moments’ deep thought, triumphantly suggested that Rosaline could slurp her tea.
There was nothing wrong with that suggestion, but Rosaline privately thought that it would take more than a few un-delicate slurps to put off the Duke. The job had to bethorough. She intended toearnthat ten pounds.
So, Rosaline had decided to start with the gravest, most pointed and unforgivable insult of all.
She was going to be late.
It would have to be carefully balanced, of course. If she was too late, the Duke would storm off. He might speak to Cordelia’s parents, asking if something had happened to delay her, and Cordelia’s parents were under the impression that their daughter had set off with her trusty maid, Helen, to meet the Duke.
However, she obviously couldn’t arrive until he did. Hence the sheltering behind a large shrub.
Maria looked very unimpressed. Rosaline wasn’t surprised that Maria was on board with this whole thing, as she’d been Cordelia’s maid for as long as any of them could remember. If her beloved mistress didn’t want to meet some gentleman or other, Maria would back her up.
Atall man in a black coat approached the tea shop, and Rosaline stiffened. Was that him? She could only assume so. Only ladies and dandies went into Dainty’s Tea Shop, with gentlemen preferring the more masculine clubs, like White’s. Rosaline wasn’t sure why tea and delicious cakes and pastries were considered feminine, but there it was.
The gentleman hesitated, eyeing the shop. He squared his shoulders and went in, the door closing softly behind him.
Yes, that was the Duke of Keswick, Rosaline was completely sure of it.
“Now, we wait.” She murmured.
“How long for, Miss?” Maria asked
“Idon’t know. Ten minutes? I think fifteen is too long.”
Maria shrugged, going back to picking at a loose thread on her cuff. Rosaline settled down to wait. She was nervous, and not entirely sure why. After all, she wasn’t going to see this gentleman again. It didn’t matter what he thought of her, only what he thought of “Cordelia” – and it was very important that he disliked “Cordelia”.
“Do you think it’s been ten minutes yet?” Rosaline asked.
“Not yet, I don’t think. Maybe five.”
“Ithink it’s been long enough. Let’s go in now.” Rosaline got on her feet, smoothing non-existent creases from her skirts, and drew in a deep breath.
Rosaline hadn’t been inside Dainty’s in years. It hadn’t changed at all, except that all of the chairs had been upholstered. At this time of day, Dainty’s was half-full, with genteel-looking ladies murmuring amongst themselves and delicately sipping tea. Two dandies sat in the corner, tucking back the copious lace at their cuffs to prevent it dragging in their food.
Rosaline carefully didn’t let herself gawk. She wanted to look around, to take in the place and make a note of changes that had been made. Hadn’t she spent many happy hours here with her friends, talking and laughing about balls and gossip?
Not any more, of course. It wouldn’t do for Rosaline to appear unfamiliar with the place. She had to pass for Miss Cordelia Atwood.
She was greeted by the proprietor, a dapper, middle-aged lady with iron-grey hair clamped into curls. The woman looked a little distressed.
“Miss Atwood? Are you Miss Atwood?”
“Iam.” Cordelia answered, as casually as she could.
“You’re meeting the gentleman, aren’t you? TheDuke of Ice?” Her voice dropped conspiratorially on the last word.
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s been waiting for several minutes, and he’s very displeased! We were about to send a note to your home, Miss Atwood. Is everything alright? Is something wrong?”
Rosaline casually flicked her shawl off her shoulders (something else borrowed from Cordelia) and handed it to Maria.
