“I think your pink silk would be best,” Poppy replied. “It’s been warm today and wool would be insufferable at any sort of indoor gathering.”
“Oh, should I not use my cashmere wrap, then?” Rose asked sadly. She’d loved the feel of the wrap when she tried it the night before. It was lightweight but somehow buttery, and felt utterly luxurious against her skin. Of course Adrian would have thought of that—he’d chosen a gift that she didn’t need to see to appreciate.
That evening, after Poppy helped Rose dress, they moved downstairs to the parlor.
Mrs. Blake left for her event, reminding Rose at least three times to enjoy herself and be careful of any and all men.
“Especially Lord Norbury,” she added unnecessarily. “If he tries to dance with you, you must refuse him.”
“Should I wait for Mr. Hynes to ask again?” Rose returned dryly. “At least Lord Norbury didn’t leave me halfway through.”
Mrs. Blake couldn’t carry on the argument, since her carriage was at the door. She kissed Rose, saying, “Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Soon after that, Poppy also left, in a hired cab that would take her to her parents’ home. “Your mother’s fears aside, do be careful, Rose,” she cautioned. “I’m not afraid of Norbury, exactly, but I just feel like something’s going to happen. Too many social circles are crossing, and you know how some people hate that. I’m worried.”
“It’s a party, I’ll be chaperoned, and I won’t dance with anyone I don’t trust. Now go. Your mother will think we’re keeping you prisoner here.”
Poppy left, and Rose waited for Lady Sara, expecting the sweet but sometimes absent-minded woman to be late.
However, Lady Sara was actually early. She greeted Rose with affectionate kisses and much cooing over the kittens, who were lounging in the parlor.
“Come, darling, we must be off. Tonight’s party will be a rout, and it will take all our prayers to get to the door before midnight.”
Thankfully, the reality was a little less horrible, though a line of carriages in front of the door to Lady Worthington’s townhome was long and slow-moving. Sara counted them off, and included a running commentary of the names and outfits of everyone she could see walking up the steps.
“Oh, that’s Lady Markham. She looks just darling in that green silk. I should get a green silk gown. A light green, not a dark green, obviously. I’ve got two dark greens. I could have little flowers beaded on at the bottom. Or maybe a huge green organza bow at the waist. Or peacock feathers in my hair. What do you think?”
“Why not all three?” Rose suggested mildly.
“You’re a genius. Of course that’s the best way to do it. Did Mr. and Mrs. Pettengill bring their dogs? They did! Oh, this will be pure chaos,” Sara said happily.
Chaos was a good way to describe the party. There seemed to be a thousand guests, and there were certainly a thousand flowers, because Rose could smell them all, plus the peculiar scent of sweaty bodies in close quarters. She instantly questioned whether she should have come at all, but perhaps Adrian was going to meet her here. He must have arranged for Lady Worthington to invite her.
However, the first hour passed and he never appeared.
The second hour passed, and he never appeared.
Other people did, and many of them approached Rose and Sara to ask for an introduction or to request a dance. Rose consented to the introductions (via Sara) but politely refused the dances, the memory of the last time she danced with a man who asked too fresh in her mind.
So she sat there quietly, while Sara and her circle of friends chattered away. She listened in vain for any mention of Adrian, but if he was at the party, none of the women had noticed. Rose wanted to enjoy herself, but the warnings of her mother and Poppy rang in her ears. Perhaps she shouldn’t be out at a party like this.
“You look a bit faded, Miss Blake,” a gentleman named Sir Richard said to her then. “Would you care to take a stroll in the gardens?”
“No, thank you,” Rose replied, thinking that the last thing she needed was to be found alone with another man, this time one she didn’t even know.
He was persistent, but Sara eventually noticed and shooed him away.
“Some men really should not be allowed out,” she said. “Really! How many times must he hear that his attention is not wanted?”
“Is there a quieter room?” Rose asked. “I may have a headache.”
She did not have a headache, but she had been entirely overwhelmed by the crowd and noise and the endless stimuli, picking out bits of conversations while trying to ignore the musicians in the other room, and yet more men asking her to dance or accept a drink or a stroll in the gardens. Having learned her lesson before, Rose declined all of the requests that would take her away from Sara’s view. The result was that she didn’t have very much fun, and she missed Poppy’s presence. She half hoped Adrian would be there and come over to her. But Sara did not mention him, Rose was afraid to ask about him, and he was probably doing something else more interesting tonight anyway.
“You poor thing. Come with me, just down this hallway,” Sara said, drawing Rosalind forward by the hand.
Rose allowed Sara to lead her away from the ballroom into a quieter, cooler passageway. She heard a door open, then Sara drew her inside a room that was blessedly calm, the only sound being the soft rustle of the skirts of other ladies taking advantage of the retiring room.
