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Rowena smiled and nodded. She blew them a kiss, then turned away from them.
As casually, but quickly, as she could, she moved toward the exit of the ballroom, careful to keep her ripped hem out of view of the ball guests. As soon as she was out of the room, she pulled up her hem and hurried past the staircase and toward the servant’s entrance.
Sally met her before she rounded the corner that would take her to the back door of the mansion and the servant’s entrance.
“What’s wrong?” Sally whispered.
Rowena put a finger to her lips and pointed to the ruined hem. Sally’s eyes widened, but she nodded, taking Rowena by the arm and leading her to the first-floor parlor. It was large and there was a corner in the back, well-lit by the window, but well out of view of the open doorway. They slipped into the room unseen and hurried for the sanctuary of the secluded corner.
“Does Lady Cresingdale know?” Sally asked as she pulled her needle and thread from a special pocket in her apron. “Do I need to send a servant to inform her?”
Rowena shook her head.
“She knows,” she said. “She is just worried that my absence will be noticed.”
Sally shook her head firmly.
“Not if I can help it,” she said.
Sure enough, Sally had the hem perfectly repaired and as good as new in less than five minutes. She smoothed it over, and Rowena immediately lost sight of where the damage had been.
“You are the best,” Rowena said, hugging Sally tightly.
Sally laughed, blushing furiously.
“Not at all, miss,” she said. “Now, go on. Get back to your party.”
Rowena nodded, turning toward the parlor door. But before she could take three steps, someone joined them in the parlor.
“Miss Whitworth,” the dowager baroness said in a cold, clipped voice. “I would like a word with you.”
Rowena swallowed, trying to push her recently relocated heart out of her throat and back into her chest. The look of disdain was crystal clear on the older woman’s face, and the last thing Rowena wanted was to speak to her for any length of time.
“Very well, my lady,” she managed, smiling weakly.
Lady Elsbrook stood staring expectantly, during which time Rowena nervously chewed her lip. After a moment, the older woman huffed, pointing her chin toward Sally.
“In private, if you please,” she said.
Sally shook her head, but Rowena reached out and touched her arm, giving her a pleading look she hoped the baroness couldn’t see.
“Could you please give us a moment?” she asked.
She could see it was the last thing Sally wanted to do. But eventually, she curtseyed.
“I will be just outside,” she said.
Rowena did not miss how deliberately Sally had spoken. She gave her maid a weak smile, watching as she headed to the doorway. Sally turned back, looking from the baroness to her mistress, and then back again. It was clear she did not want to leave. After another moment of hesitation, however, she did so, shutting the door behind her. At once, the dowager turned to face Rowena squarely.
“I will not waste any time,” she said, her tone hushed but matching her disdainful expression perfectly. “I watched you as you were dancing with my son. It is obvious that you have fallen in love with him.”
Rowena swallowed again, her mouth suddenly dry as parchment. She didn’t know what she should say to the baroness, and she wished Sally was there. She could hardly believe Andrew’s mother had so clearly divined her feelings for Andrew, just as Nancy had. Now, she had no idea how to address the matter with this formidable woman.
“I beg your pardon. I do not understand,” Rowena began, stalling for time.
Lady Elsbrook held up a hand, indicating clearly that she cared nothing for anything Rowena had to say.
“Then let me make things perfectly clear,” she said in the same cold tone. “There is no need to deny your feelings for my son. They are quite apparent to everyone, I assure you. I came to tell you simply this: If you truly love Andrew, then you will call off this shameful engagement.”
