Further, and far more importantly, she has to keep MissPine away from Mr.Rile and Mr.Fortes. She worries about Mr.Rile. Henrietta is sweet, and delightful, and a perfect match, but MissPine is clever.
She talked rings around Henrietta without even trying at last week’s ball; got all kinds of information out of her as if it was nothing. Rosalie knows she should have sent Amalie in instead, but Henrietta volunteered. She wanted to repay Rosalie for getting Mr.Rile to dance with her, and how could Rosalie refuse?
Now she’s had to invite Miss Pine to her concert. She can’t be left to her own devices, not when she’s clearly so bright and observant. Rosalie needs to pick a suitor, set them up, and seeMiss Pine sorted in short order. Someone perfect, appropriate, and bound to take her far away. Rosalie’s worked with much worse and made excellent matches. Miss Pine, with all her allure, and wit, and entrancing eyes, should be no trouble at all.
There’s a thump near the entrance and Rosalie looks over to see MissPine and Mrs.Pine struggling to hold up a thin, unsteady man with gray hair. It’s as if she conjured them.
MissPine is valiantly trying support the man Rosalie assumes is her father. He’s clearly saying he’s fine, but MissPine still leads him over to a bench at the side of the large white entrance doors. MissPine says something to Mrs.Pine, and Mrs.Pine turns, wiping her hands nervously on her gray pelisse before heading for the logbook.
Mr.Pine leans lightly against MissPine, who’s pointing out the window and talking as if nothing is wrong. Her lighter gray pelisse only highlights her brown hair and eyes. She can see MissPine’s tight grip on her father’s arm from here. Rosalie feels a sudden surge of genuine concern, wanting to walk over and help distract Mr.Pine.
Surely Rosalie could do more to help than the three glasses of waters Mrs.Pine brings over to the two of them. Sulphureous vapors hardly seem like a proper cure for whatever makes a man lean on his daughter like that.
She glances at her mother, an absurd urge to ask to go sit with them on the tip of her tongue, but Mother is already looking at her, her gaze sharp. Rosalie forces a smile and turns them to walk toward the back of the room, away from the Pines.
“We don’t put ourselves out for those who cannot help us in return,” her father used to say when she was small. “It’s not what we do.”
It’s a phrase that’s never sat overly well with Rosalie. Howcan you know who could help you in return when they’re in need? And isn’t there value in helping those who cannot help you or themselves?
Rosalie shakes herself. She’ll help MissPine by finding her a proper suitor. Perhaps find her someone with wealth and acumen enough to help Mr.Pine as well. And if it takes her out of the courting pool at the same time, well, no one ever said charity can’t also be self-serving.
She needs someone pleasant, kind, and inoffensive, with money, and a need for marriage. Rosalie casts about the room, searching for viable candidates. They’re all rather interchangeable.
Ah, there’s Mr.Sholle. Son of a baron, taller than MissPine, with a charming smile—he’ll do nicely.
Rosalie starts to guide her mother across the room to where Mr.Sholle and his friend are leaning against one of the columns talking. She just needs a good excuse to interrupt them and bring Mr.Sholle over to introduce him to Miss Pine.
“MissPine, how lovely to see you again.” Mr.Dean’s booming voice echoes around the room. Rosalie winces.
Mother’s hold on Rosalie’s arm goes tight again. Mr.Dean has stalled at the entrance to the room to talk to MissPine and Mrs.Pine, and get an introduction to her father, instead of coming further in to meet Rosalie and her mother for their prearranged outing.
“Go interrupt,” Mother hisses.
She starts pushing Rosalie across the floor, as if she can just walk straight up and say, “That’s my suitor, get your own!”
Rosalie pulls Mother to a halt and Mother’s lips go thin. “Trust me,” she says, squeezing her mother’s arm before gently yanking her own away.
Rosalie composes herself and walks across the room towardMr. Sholle. Mr. Sholle and his companion see her coming and tip their hats. Rosalie curtsies, giving both her best smile.
“Mr.Sholle, so good to see you,” she says, her voice dripping honey.
He stands up a little bit straighter, as does his friend. “Lady Rosalie, so good to see you. To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Rosalie glances at his friend, letting her smile fall just slightly.
“Ah, Sholle, I’ll see you later in the week at the club, must be going now,” he says, offering Rosalie a quick nod before ducking away and striding out of the room.
Mr.Sholle doesn’t look surprised.
“I’d like you to meet a friend of mine,” Rosalie says, taking Mr.Sholle’s arm and turning to walk sedately toward the entrance. “I don’t think you had the opportunity at the dress ball last week.”
“I didn’t,” Mr.Sholle says, seeming to notice MissPine and her family for the first time. His back goes straight and his smile grows. “Very thoughtful of you, Lady Rosalie.”
“I’m sure you and Mr.Dean have things to discuss as well,” Rosalie adds, sweetening the deal as they near the group.
“Yes, I need to ask about the hunting trip in a month,” Mr.Sholle says.
There’s always something for the men to discuss. She can count on that.
