Lady Viviene was certainly fetching. Having a wife he could teach about such things would be nice. The lady added, “I’ve heard few can rival your knowledge.”
A snort tore his gaze away from the lovely lady’s blue eyes. They landed on a slender brunette who had been nothing but an annoyance to him since he met her. What was Rose Calvert doing here? Regardless of how annoying he found her, his eyes still roamed over her. She was a mess in a rumpled periwinkle frock and her brownish-red curls sprang from her elaborate coiffure wildly. Yet, his body hummed, thinking of their kiss.
Augustus should focus on the ladies he just met. It wasn’t lost on him that two were young women his mother had mentioned before. This, indeed, was a setup by his family and his friend. He shouldn’t be distracted by the scholar smirking at him. Still, it annoyed Augustus to have her watch him while he assessed and was assessed by the ladies on the marriage mart. She’d observed his whole exchange with the young women and clearly wasn’t impressed.
“Your Grace?” Lady Viviene said.
Augustus wouldn’t give a damn about what Rose thought about his conversation. It was none of her business. She’d made it quite clear any interest beyond their poorly decided kiss wouldn’t happen. “If Lady Derry is fine with me stealing you away, perhaps we could stroll around the terrace and discuss various time periods.”
“Please do. I need to speak with my husband about something anyway,” Sophia said.
He held out his arm, and Lady Viviene took it. She beamed up at him. Yes, this lady and he would suit. Still, as he walked, his eyes drifted to Rose. Their gazes met, and she outrageouslystuck her tongue out at him. Inwardly, he glowered. The woman was a nuisance.
Chapter Eleven
Rose frowned asshe studied herself in the mirror. She wore a dark blue gown that sparkled with silver threading in various places. Begrudgingly, she admitted she loved it. The lady’s maid Beth seemed to have a better understanding of her unruly curly brownish-red hair—well, at least this evening she had.
The maid had gasped when Rose returned to her room earlier. Throughout the day, the perfect coiffure she’d departed with had transformed into a wild mass of curls. Rose explained that her unruly mane didn’t do well in styles designed for straight hair. Tonight, Beth, determined to get it right, tried several options until they both agreed this one suited her and would survive the night.
A blush formed on her freckled cheeks, and she frowned, hating that she wondered what Sinclair would think. She’d spied on him today, not impressed with the potential brides he was considering. The last one caused her stomach to clench because it had been evident he was interested. Rose hated that she felt anything. Who Sinclair chose wasn’t her business.
Glancing one more time in the mirror, she told herself she could enjoy looking nice without it being connected to a certain duke. Her dark mane was half up but loosely, allowing curls to fall more naturally. A knock on her bedchamber door interrupted her thoughts. “Rose, it is Lisbeth. Are you ready?”
She opened the door, and Lisbeth gasped before her mouth tilted into an impressed smile. Rose flushed. “Not a single word.”
Lisbeth sighed. “You look lovely. Is it so wrong to point it out? I wish your father were here.”
Prior to departing for the Derrys’ country estate gathering, they’d received a letter from Benjamin Calvert stating he was headed back to the Syrian desert. Rose missed him more than she cared to admit. As if she could read her thoughts, Lisbeth held out her arm. “Come, let’s go have fun.”
Rose nodded, and they walked to the great hall where everyone congregated for drinks before dinner. As they stepped through the doorway, Lisbeth winked at her. “Time to find you a husband.”
Horror filled Rose’s face, and giggles erupted from Lisbeth. “I’m joking.”
Rose rolled her eyes but smiled, feeling a shocking kinship with the duchess. As they wandered around the room, several people turned to Lisbeth, curtsying. She nodded in response, and sometimes, they stopped and talked for a bit.
“Do you ever hate all that?” Rose asked.
Lisbeth came to a halt, frowning. “What?”
“All the pomp that goes with being you.”
Lisbeth sighed. “I don’t think about it anymore. Is that awful?”
Perhaps Rose would have thought so before coming to London, but now she didn’t think so. One couldn’t be bowed to and curtsied to for years without it becoming natural. No, Lisbeth handled it with far more grace and kindness than Rose expected. In truth, Lisbeth hadn’t been at all what she envisioned. Guilt surged through her for feeling that way and also because liking the duchess, in some ways, felt like a betrayal of Thomas.
“Why did you leave Tuscany?” she asked, shocking them both.
Lisbeth flushed. “This isn’t the place.”
Horror filled Rose that she asked the question. “I’m sorry.”
Lisbeth smiled tightly. “I wish I hadn’t hurt him, but I can’t change the past. It was never my intent.”
A deep sadness emanated from her, making Rose realize that Thomas wasn’t the only one permanently changed by the situation. “I’m sorry, Lisbeth. It is none of my business.”
The duchess squeezed her hand. “You’re a good friend to him. I’m glad he has that.”
A bell chimed, summoning everyone to dinner. Rose turned, and her eyes met Sinclair’s. He was escorting one of the women from earlier into the dining room. He paused at the sight of her, sucking in a breath. His eyes wandered down her form, warming her at every place they lingered.
