Rosalie slumped behind one of the potted palms. Her father clearly had a strange attachment to the idea of her marrying Lucian in particular, something that went beyond salvaging the match and saving her from embarrassment. She knew all toowell how stubborn Papa could be once he got an idea into his head.
At the same time, she couldn’t tell him what Lucian had done to her two years ago, both because she could not bear the humiliation and because she was fairly certain the chain of events it would set in motion would end with her father hanging for murder.
At the same time, she could not marry him, and she knew her father would never accept the vague denials she had attempted to use tonight.
She needed specific evidence of Lucian’s villainy, but something that was not so personal that it would inspire her father to avenge her.
Suddenly, she recalled what Lysander had told her this afternoon, about Lucian’s attempts to manipulate their grandfather, and even to hasten his demise.
If she could find evidence of Lucian’s mistreatment of his grandfather, that would be the perfect rationale for refusing the match. The fact that the marriage contract had been signed was immaterial. If she could but win Papa to her side, there was no mountain he would not move for the sake of his Rosie-Roo.
Her mind was already racing. She could think of a dozen people she needed to interview.
And she knew precisely where she needed to start.
Rosalie found her younger brother in the billiard room. “I need your help.”
Robin brightened at her approach. Robin was in some ways very like their father—charismatic. Charming. The sort of man who had never met a stranger.
But he had inherited their mother’s fine-boned frame. He was only two inches taller than Rosalie, although at two and twenty, it was possible that he might grow another inch or two. He had brown hair the color of chocolate and poetic blue eyes.
As usual, Robin was keeping company with his particular friend, Howard Roberts. Howard seemed at first glance an unlikely companion for Robin. He had plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, and usually sported a dour expression. Whereas Robin favored bright colors and fine fabrics for his clothing, Howard’s wardrobe of unrelenting black bore more resemblance to an undertaker than his actual profession in banking.
It was inaccurate to refer to Robin and Howard as merely friends. Rosalie had stepped inside the library once and caught them kissing. It had been awkward for all three of them, but Robin had eventually explained that he and Howard felt for one another the same way husbands usually felt about their wives, and that they planned to spend their lives together.
Such a course was dangerous in England, where love between two men was punishable by death. Rosalie made them both swear that they would be more careful. What if someone else had walked in on them, someone less discreet?
The incident had not changed Rosalie’s feelings toward her brother a whit. Robin was one of her favorite people—kind, amusing, and unfailingly loyal. And as for Howard, although Rosalie did not understand what her brother saw in him, she had to admit that he was unfailingly loyal to Robin. And she supposed that was good enough for her.
The billiard room was not crowded, but a few people were milling about, so Rosalie gestured for Robin and Howard to lean in close.
“What can I do for you, sister dear?” Robin asked.
“I am sure you were present in the ballroom earlier and saw that I have swapped one Lord Valentine for the other,” she began.
Howard grunted.
Her brother was more effusive. “We certainly did!” He waggled his eyebrows. “Frankly, I think you came out on the better end of that exchange.”
“I disagree,” Rosalie said briskly. “You see…” She paused as something occurred to her. “You must promise never to speak of this to anyone.”
“I promise,” Robin said.
“As do I,” Howard mumbled.
She gave them a firm look. “You must especially promise that you will never mention it to Father.”
“Of course, I won’t,” Robin said. “Come on, Rosie! We’re dying of curiosity.”
Rosalie swallowed. Her heart was pounding, and her knees had turned to rubber. She had never told anyone about that night. It wasn’t that she did not trust Robin and Howard to keep her secret. She trusted them implicitly.
But it was just so humiliating.
She lifted her chin. “Just before he decamped for the Continent, Lucian and I had an… interlude.”
Robin and Howard exchanged a pregnant look. “That sounds intriguing,” Robin said.
She chose her words carefully. “I encountered Lucian on the balcony during a ball. We kissed, and… words were exchanged.”
