A thought suddenly struck me. “Your friend. Does she need to show her invitation to board the barge?”
“No. Only the men are required to do so. The only thing women are required to provide is their assumed names. They wear masks to disguise themselves. And they board a separate barge from the men.”
“What is her assumed name?”
“Delilah,” Claire said. “Now go. There’s no time to delay.”
At that moment, the door opened, and Cosmos entered the room.
“Claire,” he said with a polite bow. “I heard you were here. Our appointment is not until this evening.”
“I came to see Rosalynd,” Claire replied calmly. “There was something I wished to share with her.”
His gaze sharpened. “About what?”
“A private matter.”
His brow lifted, but he said nothing before turning to me.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes. To see Steele.”
His expression turned thunderous. “In broad daylight? For all of Grosvenor Square to witness?”
I smoothed my gloves. “That is correct.”
“Are you certain that is what you wish to do?” He bit out.
“I am more certain of this than I have been of anything in my entire life,” I said. “If Petunia, or any other member of the family, comes looking for me, tell them where I have gone.”
As I swept from the room, he turned to Claire.
“Do you have anything to do with this madness?”
“Partly,” she replied calmly. “And I would do it again.”
Crossing Grosvenor Squarein full daylight was an act that could not be mistaken for an accident.
The late morning was mild, the square alive with its familiar rhythm. Nannies pushed perambulators along the gravel paths, their charges bundled and pink-cheeked. Children darted between the trees, laughter rising above the hum of polite conversation. Ladies strolled arm in arm, parasols tilted just so, pausing to exchange news meant to be shared and gossip meant to be weighed.
And then there was me.
Unaccompanied. No maid at my elbow. No chaperone hovering with dutiful concern. I felt the shift almost at once, the subtle turning of heads, the brief hesitation in conversation as I stepped onto the path and crossed the square.
I did not hurry.
If I were to be seen, then I would be seen properly.
“Good morning, Lady Rosalynd,” called Mrs. Hargreaves from her customary bench, where she sat like a fixture, observing the square as though it were her personal domain.
“Good morning,” I replied, inclining my head.
Her companion, Mrs. Bellamy, peered at me over the rim of her spectacles. “Out on your own today, my dear?”
“I am,” I said pleasantly.
Their eyes followed me as I moved on. I could feel them weighing every step, every choice. By teatime, they would have a story fit for generous retelling. Lady Rosalynd Rosehaven, crossing the square alone without so much as a maid to guard her reputation.
