Betsy’s pointed her index finger at him. “You are a genius indeed, Your Grace.”
“Betsy? Is it you I hear?” Lady Hazelshire’s voice called out.
“Quickly,” Betsy urged and Rowena ascended up the narrow servant’s staircase as quickly as she could, rushed down the hall of the second floor, and stood at the top of the steps for several moments to catch her breath. She leaned forward to hear the conversation below.
“…Eton together,” the deep voice of the Duke carried up the steps.
“Isn’t that a lucky coincidence, Betsy? How fortunate. I hope you were able to give dear Betsy some pointers on the likes and dislikes of the Portsmouths. She is eager to make a good impression, are you not?”
“Indeed, Lady Hazelshire. I am ever so pleased to discover–”
“You want the Duke for yourself, don’t you?” Her sister’s voice suddenly came from behind her.
Rowena’s heart dropped and she spun around. Her sister stood before her, her usually pale face red with rage and her eyes wide. Her hands were balled into fists.
“Catherine, please. That is such a silly notion.”
“Horsefeathers! Do you take me for a fool? I saw you. I saw you in the gardens, sitting beside him as if you were a pair already. Sitting so close to him, it was all but indecent. Wait until I tell Mama!”
Rowena’s mind raced. Her sister had seen them. Had picked up on their feelings. It was a disaster. An utter disaster. She reached her hands out to her sister and placed them on either side of her shoulders.
“No, please. Catherine. Do not act rashly. I can explain it all.
Catherine’s own arms zoomed up and pushed Rowena’s down with such force she felt a pain shoot along her shoulders.
“Explain how you have your eyes on the Duke of Westmond, when you’re already promised to the Duke of Thornmouth? How one Duke is not enough for you; you must have both to satisfy yourself? What do you want with Westmond anyhow? He’s purse-pinched, compared to Thornmouth.”
Rowena found an unexpected rage on behalf of Duke Westmond rise within her.
“If you are so concerned about him being purse-pinched, why are you upset over my liking him?”
Her sister’s eyes grew ever wider. “So, you admit it! You are fond of him! He is supposed to be for me. Papa will ensure he restores his fortunes in no time at all. And with the Duke of Thornmouth as his brother-in-law, it would take no time at all for him to rise in favor with the other Lords in Court.” Catherine stemmed her hands on her hips before raging on.
“You just can’t stand the idea of not being the only duchess, can you? It would simply kill you if your younger sister was a duchess too!”
“What would kill me is to see my own sister wed to the man I desire. There. I have told you. It is the truth. I do desire him. My heart yearns for him. I can’t explain it, it simply is. And I know that it can never be. I know my duty. I know whom I must marry. But the idea of seeing you by his side for the rest of my life, while I am so near him and yet so far, I cannot bear it.”
Tears shot into her eyes as something in her sister’s face changed. Her jaw, set tight in rage before, grew slack and she blinked at her.
“Rowena? Catherine? What is all this ruckus?”
Their mother swiftly made her way up the steps. Before Rowena had a chance to say another word to her sister, their mother stood before them. Changed from her promenade dress into a shimmering, silk evening gown she stood before them, looking sternly from one to the other.
“Well? What is this noise? It is unseemly for such behavior when we are in the company of a duke.” Right then, her eyes fell on Rowena and for a moment, her expression softened, only to be replaced within seconds with annoyance.
“Rowena, you look a state! What is the matter with the both of you? Catherine?”
Lady Hazelshire fixed her gaze on her younger daughter while a feeling of resignation overcame Rowena. If her sister told their mother the cause of their spat, it would all end right here on the steps. Whatever hopes she’d harbored in regard to the young man downstairs would be dashed.
All she could do was turned her face toward her sister, and silently plead with her once more, knowing the young woman held her future in her hands.
Chapter 17
On the following Saturday, Christopher found himself in his seat at the House of Lords at an unusually early hour. A special session had been called in order to respond to the riots which had been broken out in Cambridgeshire the previous day. Cambridgeshire, the home of the Duke of Thornmouth, had been particularly hard hit by rising unemployment and the high cost of grain, causing unrest. In fact, it was he who was currently speaking on the floor.
“We cannot allow the mob to take over our streets and run amok in such a manner. We must show them the strictest of justice. We must weed out each and every one of these rioters. We must make examples out of them all to prevent this behavior spreading elsewhere. Death to them all, I say!” He presently shouted to the cheer of many of his fellow lords.
“Disgusting, I declare,” Nestor mumbled beside Christopher. “All these people want is to work and to provide for their families. It’s lords like Thornmouth reveling in their riches while letting their population starve that leads to these circumstances.”
