It was fascinating.
It was...
Daniel set down his quill pen with unnecessary force, scattering drops of ink across the ledger.
He would not do this. He would not sit in his study analyzing Miss Whitcombe's mental capabilities as though she were a horse he was considering purchasing. She was Rosanne's friend. She visited his home at Rosanne's invitation. Beyond the basic courtesies required of a host, she was none of his concern.
He would be polite but distant. He would maintain appropriate boundaries. He would not seek her out or engineer excuses to be in her presence.
And he would absolutely, categorically, stop thinking about the way she had smiled when she saidI acknowledge your acknowledgment;that small, private curve of her lips that had looked, for just a moment, like a challenge.
He picked up his quill pen and returned to the drainage report with renewed determination.
But the words blurred before his eyes.
Chapter Five
"It is from Lady Smith."
Lillian looked up from her embroidery, a pastime she did not particularly enjoy but which gave her hands something to do during quiet moments, and found Rosanne standing in the doorway of the morning room, a letter clutched in her fingers like a death warrant.
"Lady Smith?" Lillian repeated, setting aside her needle. "The Lady Smith? The one whose house Gatherings are legendary for their..."
"For their ruthless social maneuvering and exacting standards, yes." Rosanne's voice was thin. "She was a friend of my mother's. She has invited me to her gathering. Daniel has already accepted on my behalf."
"I see."
Lillian kept her voice carefully neutral, though she could see the tension in every line of Rosanne's body; the white-knuckled grip on the letter, the slight tremor in her hands, the pallor that had crept into her cheeks.
"It is in two months," Rosanne continued, moving into the room with the mechanical steps of someone walking toward an execution. "A full week of entertainment. Dinners, picnics, musical evenings, a ball on the final night. All of the most prominent families in the county will be there. Lady Smith has already hinted, rather pointedly, that she expects me to make a favourable impression."
"And by favourable impression, she means...?"
"She means I should attract the attention of an eligible gentleman and not embarrass myself or my family in the process." Rosanne sank into the chair opposite Lillian, the letter crumpling in her lap. "She has particularly mentioned Lord Blackwood's son, who will be among the guests. He is five and twenty, possessed of good teeth and a respectable fortune, and Lady Smith appears to have decided that we would be well suited."
"Have you met him?"
"Once. Briefly. He seemed pleasant enough, in the vague way that young men of good family always seem pleasant. We discussed the weather for approximately four minutes before he excused himself to join a card game."
"A rousing endorsement."
"Lillian." Rosanne's voice cracked slightly on the name. "I cannot do this. I cannot spend a week at Lady Smith's house, surrounded by people who are watching for any sign of weakness, pretending to be the sort of person I am not. The last time I attended one of her gatherings, I..."
She stopped, color flooding her pale cheeks.
"You...?" Lillian prompted gently.
"I spilled wine on Viscount Hartley's daughter. During the final ball, on her white gown and in front of everyone."
"Ah."
"She had been making pointed comments about my dancing all evening—comments that I suspect were designed to unsettle me—and when I finally worked up the courage to stand up for myself, I gestured too emphatically and knocked the glass from a passing footman's tray directly onto her skirts." Rosanne's voice had gone flat, recounting the incident with the weary detachment of someone who had relived it many times. "She screamed. Her mother fainted. Lady Smith looked at me as though I had personally insulted her ancestors. I spent the remainder of the evening hiding in the library, and I have not attended a house gathering since."
Lillian was quiet for a moment, absorbing the image of Rosanne, already anxious, already desperate to avoid notice, accidentally creating the kind of social catastrophe that would follow her for years.
"That sounds awful," she said simply.
"It was." Rosanne laughed, a hollow sound. "And now Lady Smith has summoned me back, presumably to assess whether I have become less disastrous in the intervening time. The answer, I fear, is that I have not. If anything, I have becomemoreanxious,moreconvinced that I will make a fool of myself,morecertain that everyone is watching and waiting for me to fail."
