They made their way back to the edge of the room, and Lillian noticed that several matrons were watching them with expressions of mingled approval and curiosity. The Duke of Wyntham, dancing with his wife, smiling at his wife. Behaving, in all respects, like a man in love.
It was, she supposed, worth gossiping about.
"She is coming this way," Daniel said, his voice shifting to alert attention.
Lillian followed his gaze and saw Rosanne approaching, her cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness, her eyes bright with something that looked very much like triumph.
"Brother. Lillian." Rosanne arrived slightly breathless, her fan moving rapidly. "I have had the most wonderful evening. Mr. Fielding isdelightful;he knows absolutely everything about botany, and he has invited me to see his mother's conservatory next week, and Lady Ashby is the kindest woman I have ever met."
"You have met Lady Ashby?" Daniel's tone was carefully neutral.
"Mr. Fielding introduced me. She said I reminded her of herself at my age—can you imagine? She was apparently terribly shy when she was young, and now she is one of the most sought-after hostesses in London." Rosanne beamed. "She gave me advice on managing nerves. She said the trick is to remember that everyone else is too worried about themselves to notice your mistakes."
"Sound advice," Lillian said, glancing at Daniel to gauge his reaction.
He was quiet for a moment, studying his sister's face. Then, slowly, his expression softened.
"You enjoyed yourself," he said. It was not a question.
"I did. More than I expected to. More than I thought possible, if I am honest." Rosanne's smile turned slightly shy. "I know you worry about me, Daniel. I know you want to protect me from... From making mistakes, I suppose. But tonight I realised something."
"What did you realise?"
"That I do not have to have everything decided immediately. I do not have to know whether Mr. Fielding is the man I will marry, or whether this season will end in a betrothal, or whether any of it will lead anywhere at all." She looked up at her brother with an expression of quiet certainty. "I just want to enjoy it. To be young and foolish and free, for once in my life. To dance and laugh and meet people without the weight of expectation crushing every moment."
Lillian watched Daniel's face as he absorbed this; the conflict between his protective instincts and his growing understanding that protection could become prison.
"Is that so wrong?" Rosanne asked, when the silence stretched. "To want a season of freedom before I have to be sensible?"
Daniel reached out and took his sister's hand—an unusual gesture for him, a public display of affection that would once have been unthinkable.
"It is not wrong at all," he said quietly. "It is what you deserve. What you have always deserved."
Rosanne's eyes widened. "Truly? You will not lecture me about duty and propriety and the importance of making a good match?"
"I will not lecture you about anything." He squeezed her hand gently. "Enjoy your season, Rosanne. Dance with young men in yellow waistcoats if you wish. Fall in love or do not fall in love, as suits you. Make mistakes and learn from them." He paused. "I only ask that you be happy. That is all I have ever wanted for you."
Rosanne's eyes filled with tears—happy tears, Lillian thought, the kind that came when something long hoped for finally arrived.
"Thank you," Rosanne whispered. "Thank you, Daniel."
"Do not thank me. Thank your sister-in-law." He glanced at Lillian with a rueful expression. "She has been explaining to me, at considerable length, that loving someone means trusting them to find their own way."
"It has been a lengthy education," Lillian agreed. "But he is finally showing signs of progress."
"Slow but measurable improvement," Daniel conceded. "Like a particularly stubborn crop that has finally decided to grow."
Rosanne laughed, a sound of pure, uncomplicated joy, and released her brother's hand. "I must go now. But I will see you both at supper?"
"We will be there," Lillian promised. "Now go. Your evening awaits."
They watched her go—this young woman who had learned to carry herself with grace, who had discovered that fear did not have to be a prison.
"You did well," Lillian said softly, when Rosanne had disappeared into the crowd. "That was not easy for you."
"It was terrifying. I wanted to lock her in a tower and forbid her from speaking to anyone under the age of forty." Daniel's voice was dry, but she could hear the emotion beneath it. "But you were right. She deserves the chance to find her own path. Even if that path leads somewhere I cannot follow."
"It is a strange thing, loving someone." Lillian leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body against her shoulder. "We want to protect them from everything—from pain, from disappointment, from their own mistakes. But sometimes the best protection is simply stepping back. Trusting them to be strong enough to face what comes."
