“Catherine, how is your Latin coming along? I heard you mention it at dinner.”
Her sister’s face brightened. “As I told the Duke, it’s been ever so difficult, but I am making progress, Rowena.” She turned her head toward the Duke who was currently scanning his cards in deep concentration.
“Your Grace, do you speak any languages other than English?”
He looked up over the rim of the cards.
“In fact, I do. I speak a little Hindi, from my time in India.”
“India? Is that so? You must tell me all about it.”
Rowena shook her head, knowing full well that Catherine had no interest in travel. She found the journey from their country home to London taxing. For the sake of the Duke, however, Catherine turned herself into a keen traveler.
She does what she was raised to do, as was I. Present ourselves as that what our intended wishes to see. Whatever pleases our future husband. Whatever pleases society.
Suddenly, Rowena found herself growing angry at it all. The way she’d been raised by her parents to be prim and proper. The way she was expected to marry not for love, but convenience. The way all the women in their society were nothing but pawns in the hands of the men around them.
Her eyes fell on Betsy.
Perhaps she was indeed the lucky one. Despite her poverty and tragic upbringing, Betsy had a choice. She could be a governess. Or a teacher. Or a nun. Or, if she wished, a wife and mother. Nobody was forcing her to choose any one path in life.
She sat her cards down, feeling hot with a rage she had never known before.
“I am ever so sorry, but I feel the need to take the air. I am feeling rather faint.”
Beside her, Betsy jumped up. “Should I accompany you?’
“No, it is quite alright. Remain here and entertain our guests.”
With that, Rowena made her way past her father, who looked up from his conversation with Mister Newmont in surprise, as she fled out the door.
* * *
Rowena slipped out of the back door into the small garden that lay beyond the house. An apple tree was in bloom beside a mighty oak. The setting sunrays worked their way through the thick leaves, giving the evening a shimmering glow.
She sat on the bench under the oak tree and closed her eyes when the crunching sounds of feet walking across leaves raised her attention.
“Your Grace!” She jumped up when she saw him come her way.
“I did not mean to disturb you, but I grew worried when you departed with such haste.”
She blinked, thinking of what to say. The truth was that a part of her had hoped he would follow her. Yet another part of her was horrified at the idea of being alone with a stranger. The damage to her reputation! And what would the Duke of Thornmouth think? She shook her head. This was the kind of thinking that had been put into her head her entire life.
She lifted her head and smiled at the Duke.
“There was no need to worry. I simply needed to breathe the air.”
“May I?” he pointed at the bench she’d jumped up from.
“Of course,” she took her seat again and indicated for him to join her. When he did, she felt herself grow hot and cold all at once. The scent she’d been so bewitched by at the ball lingered about him once more.
He stuck his hand into the inside of his tailcoat and retrieved the well-wrapped Bath bun, handing it to her with a sheepish grin.
“I assume now is a safe time to give this to you. If you’d like to enjoy it now, I am more than willing to stand guard.”
“Perhaps His Grace might be willing to share?” she unwrapped the bun, making sure to keep the handkerchief spread across her gown to keep crumbs off it.
He gave her a slight nod and Rowena broke the precious bun in half, giving him the larger of the two.
