If only Lady Rosalie would extend her the same courtesy. “I enjoy music,” Catherine replies honestly. “I play pianoforte rather well. And I like to read, which I suppose isn’t really a skill.”
Lady Rosalie considers her for a moment. MissRaught opens her mouth but Lady Rosalie raises a hand, as if able to anticipate whatever she would have said. “We’re having a private concert next week. You ought to attend. Your parents as well, of course. It will be the best performance you’ll see this season. My father knows the best musicians.”
Catherine blinks, surprised. It’s a bold move to invite Catherine to a private gathering so soon. Miss Raught looks surprised as well.
“You can enjoy the music, and then I can help you line up your dances for the next ball.”
“Lady Rosalie knows everyone worth knowing. She’ll find you the perfect, proper suitor in no time,” MissRaught says eagerly.
Lady Rosalie shoots MissRaught a sharp look.
So, it’s about keeping your enemies close, is it?
“I’m sure your cousin will introduce you to a good number of men, but he doesn’t know the young ton like we do,” Lady Rosalie says, her voice calm, but just a hair too quick, trying to undo the damage of MissRaught’s honesty. “We can help you fall in with the right crowd, if you’re interested.”
Catherine meets her eyes. Lady Rosalie wants to keep tabs on her, orchestrate her matches, and keep her far away from Mr.Dean, all under the guise of friendship. Killing Catherine with very precise kindness.
Two can play at that game.
She thought Mother’s scheme utter madness not an hour ago. But now, she wants to meet the challenge in Lady Rosalie’s eyes. She wants to find out what will happen if she lets Lady Rosalie think she’s controlling her. She wants to see the inner workings of her world, and her mind, and find out how she ticks. And then she’ll use it all against her while Lady Rosalie thinks she’s got the upper hand.
“I would be delighted to attend your concert,” Catherine says sweetly.
Lady Rosalie’s lips quirk in a smile. “Wonderful. I’ll have Mother send an invitation for you tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” Catherine says. “And I would appreciate your help with the marriage mart. It’s so hard to know who to trust.”
Catherine could get used to seeing the challenge in Lady Rosalie’s eyes. It’s exciting. She feels a little breathless, and hopes it doesn’t show.
“You can trust Lady Rosalie,” MissRaught says.
Catherine almost jumps. She’d nearly forgotten MissRaught was there. Lady Rosalie sighs quietly.
This is going to be interesting.
Chapter Three
Rosalie
Rosalie grimaces as she swallows the last of her cup. She’s never gotten used to the waters. The light smell of sulphureous rotten eggs gets her every time.
“Manage your expression, dearest,” Mother whispers, pressing Rosalie’s elbow into her side.
Rosalie smooths her face, gratefully depositing her cup onto the tray of a passing attendant. It’s crowded in the Pump Room today, and the attendants seem to pop up every few minutes to keep things orderly.
Not that Rosalie and her mother ever frequent the bright, airy Pump Room at any time other than its busiest. Eleven each morning, they’re here to sign the book, take their waters, and walk up and down the creaking wooden floorboards. Mother recounts gossip while Rosalie people-watches, or stares out the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows at the abbey churchyard below, pretending to listen to Mother’s prattle.
It’s dreary out today, like it is most days in March. There’s a steady drizzle, and while it’s nice to be warm and inside, the room is crowded. The mended cuff on her blue pelisse is a little tight, and with Mother holding her arm in a death grip, it’s pinching her wrist.
“He’ll be here any minute,” Mother says, her voice soothing.
Let Mother think she’s worried about Mr. Dean being latefor their arranged indoor promenade. It’s a little mortifying that Mother’s still overseeing her courtship so intently. A year of courting in, Rosalie and Mr. Dean ought to be able to manage their outings themselves with servants for chaperones.
Then again, Rosalie might forget to arrange an outing for weeks without Mother’s prompting, and MissWrigsby has much better things to do than choke down pump water with her every morning on the off chance Mr.Dean might show.
“I’ve arranged for the linens, and Mr.Brook is digging out our finest stemware for this weekend,” Mother continues, diving into another recounting of all the preparations they’ve discussed six times already for the concert at the end of the week.
Mother’s rather obsessing over it. Rosalie usually couldn’t care less, but she’s been making plans of her own. The seating has to be perfect: Henrietta, Mr.Rile, Amalie, and Mr.Fortes in between MissPine and Mr.Dean. For her mother’s nerves, Rosalie’s going to ensure that MissPine has no further opportunities to speak with Mr.Dean, let alone secure any of his time or dances.
