“You think I haven’t already realized Christopher was inviting you on outings to make me jealous? I’m quicker than you think I am.”
“I didn’t— He wasn’t,” Catherine protests. “At least, I don’t think he was.”
“Oh, Rosalie was, at least,” Amalie says with a shrug. “She’s effective, but not subtle.”
“So it worked?”
Amalie sighs. “Only because I’ve had my eye on Christopher, and when I decide on something, or someone, I decide. And I act,” she adds pointedly.
Catherine bobs her head. She’s trying. This is a start. Maybe someday both she and Rosalie can be as decisive as Amalie. Maybe Amalie will help them build a world where they can be.
“Christopher’s a good choice.”
“He is,” Amalie agrees, smiling herself. “And if orchestrating a little liaison for you means Christopher and I might disappear into the woods for a moment... I can be persuaded.”
The warmth returns to her chest, growing into something brighter, something like fiery hope.
“I have the last volume ofThe Children of the AbbeyI can lend you, if that sweetens the deal,” Catherine says.
“Done. And I’ll bringmylady’s maid, who will happily go sit by the water and leave us all alone. Though yours seems great too.”
Catherine glances over her shoulder to see MissTeit still standing by the patio of the Sydney Hotel, admiring the flowering trees and paying them no attention whatsoever.
“She is.”
“Henrietta’s lady’s maid is a hoverer, but if you and Rosalie happened to be out with her and Mr.Rile, I doubt she’d notice if you wandered off for a moment.”
“Good to know,” Catherine says. “And Henrietta wouldn’t...”
“Henrietta, bless her, has never noticed anything that wasn’t right in front of her—the lucky happy thing—but she’ll be overjoyed to know Rosalie has found the right person. Whoever he, or she, may be.”
She hoped to make friends this season, but she never actually thought she would. Nothing that’s happened this season hasgone to plan, but it’s turned out better than she could ever have imagined. At least if she can manage to dispatch of Mr. Dean.
“Have you and Rosalie talked about the future?” Amalie asks.
“That’s what the walk will be for.”
Amalie sighs. “Ridiculous. If you need to pass letters, send them to me, and I’ll forward them on. You’re such smart women, it’s a little sad you don’t have it all planned out yet.”
Catherine bristles for a moment, and then her shoulders slump. “It wasn’t... We haven’t had a lot of time to talk.”
“And the time you had you spent a lot of it not talking, I imagine?” Amalie asks with a grin.
“Shut it,” Catherine says, laughing.
Amalie looks ridiculously pleased with herself, narrow face set in a smirk. But as she continues to tease, getting more information out of Catherine than she’d have thought possible, Catherine feels like she can breathe again. Maybe they really can make a new life for themselves, and fill it with people who understand. Fill it with the people who already know and care about them.
All they need to do is convince their mothers to throw the old system to the wayside and ignore the gossip. And insult one very boring, very self-centered, very wealthy son of a viscount. How hard could it be?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rosalie
Henrietta and her mother have strung flowers between the two small oak trees and woven them into the fence. Henrietta’s parents are flitting amongst the beautiful tables set up by the back doors, receiving endless congratulations. It’s an oversized, joyous celebration packed into a compact space, just like Henrietta. Rosalie can practically feel happiness floating on the air.
Christopher is prattling on at her side, their arms looped together as they make a small circuit of the back garden. She’s not paying attention, too busy swiveling her head to try to find Catherine.
She should be here. It’s the only thing that’s kept Rosalie moving all morning. Mother was too busy to come, Father’s back in London, and without word from Catherine for over a week, Rosalie’s nearly coming out of her skin. She would have much preferred to stay home and wallow.
