The following weekend now seems ages away. Catherine needs to know what Lady Rosalie is thinking. Whether her smirks and smoldering looks mean what Catherine wants them to, what Catherine hopes they do.
She notices Mr.Tisend nudging Lady Rosalie. Lady Rosalie swallows and Catherine’s momentarily distracted by the bob of her throat. Why is that so... alluring?
“I need to pick up my new traveling cloak for the trip, and imagine you might need some accessories as well,” Lady Rosalie says before Catherine can gather herself. “Would you like to go to the shops on Tuesday?”
“I would,” Catherine hears herself say.
Lady Rosalie nods and Mr. Tisend nudges her again. Catherine watches her nudge back, her lips tilting up. Something rises in Catherine’s chest that feels suspiciously like unfounded hope. Catherine doesn’t know what they’re about, but they’veorchestrated the picture-perfect outing. Just the four of them, and the mischievous Lady Jones.
Catherine and Lady Rosalie might find all kinds of reasons to be alone. Especially if Mr.Tisend can keep Mr.Dean talking like they are now—like she and Lady Rosalie aren’t even there.
This is going to be something, isn’t it?
Chapter Thirteen
Rosalie
MissPine stands on Madame Florent’s pedestal, being fitted into a burgundy spencer jacket Madame Florent “just had lying around,” and it’s possibly the most fetching thing Lady Rosalie’s ever seen. The way it hugs MissPine’s shoulders, the way it accentuates her bust, the way it highlights her dark eyes—
Rosalie’s mouth feels thick, her fingers fumbling. There are so many things she might like to say, but none she can push beyond her lips. At least, not with Madame Florent right there.
And even if shecouldsay what she’s thinking, she’s not sure MissPine would like to hear it. She hopes she would. She thinks she would. But she can’t be sure. The not-knowing is frankly killing her.
“What do you think?” MissPine asks, fingers twisting together.
Madame Florent steps back. “As if it was made just for you,” she says, smiling brightly.
“Lady Rosalie?” MissPine asks, her face so hopeful.
It unties Rosalie’s tongue. “It’s incredibly fetching,” she says, a little breathless.
“Agreed,” Madame Florent says. “Now, give it back to me, I’ll make these few stitches and send you on your way.”
“Thank you,” Miss Pine says, her cheeks a little pink. She helpsMadame Florent slip her out of the jacket, leaving her in just her cream day dress, which is distractingly flattering enough on its own. “I appreciate you modifying the display for me. I needed more fashionable outerwear; everything I have from our estate up north is a little too... pastoral for Bath’s sensibilities.”
Madame Florent grins. “You just come back to me, and we’ll keep making you as fashionable as Lady Rosalie here. Maybe more,” she says before swanning into the back of the shop.
“Do you miss the country?” Rosalie finds herself asking.
MissPine looks over at her, surprised, and comes to sit with her on the small settee across from the pedestal by the mirrors. She’s close enough that Rosalie can smell her lilac perfume and see the little baby hairs peeking out from the bottom of her bonnet rim.
“Sometimes,” MissPine says. “Everything was simpler in the country.”
“Like what?” Rosalie wonders.
“Everything here is both more formal and somehow laxer. It gets hard to keep track,” MissPine says, looking down at her hands and pulling her dainty white gloves back on.
It must be strange, coming from somewhere so different. MissPine’s vulnerability tugs at Rosalie’s heart. She’s been making it worse, she’s sure.
MissPine looks up and turns her neck toward the curtains to the back room. But Madame Florent doesn’t emerge.
“Like this trip with your brother and Mr.Dean,” MissPine continues, slowly turning back to Rosalie. Rosalie’s chest tightens. “What kind of trip is it? Is it a courting outing, or just friends visiting a castle?”
She’s braver than Rosalie’s been all day, which should make it easier to push the words out of her tight throat, but Rosaliestill struggles. “Ah, Christopher just thought it would be a good opportunity for all of us to talk.”
“All of us,” MissPine repeats.
They’re seated even closer together than they were in the cloakroom. She wants to say it plainly—wants to admit that Christopher decided to engineer an opportunity for Rosalie and MissPine to be alone together. But with Madame Florent hovering just out of sight, she doesn’t know how to say it.
