“Yes, I’ve noticed that.”
A moment later Sally joined them, and they headed out for a brisk walk in Hyde Park. It didn’t do anything to clear her head, but she suspected it would be the quietest hour of her day. And by the time she returned and changed for breakfast, the chaos had indeed begun.
Leaving Shakespeare on her bed for his morning nap, Alexandra closed her bedchamber door. She scarcely had time to register Rose’s presence before the girl pounced on her.
“Lex, Mama says I must wear my new green gown to Vauxhall Gardens!” she wailed.
“Good morning, Rose,” Alexandra returned pointedly, curtsying.
“Oh, good morning,” the girl said, bobbing, and wiped a tear from one cheek.
“Well, as long as you bring a shawl, your green gown should be fine. Join me for breakfast, and don’t fret. You look splendid in gree—”
“But then I shall have to wear my pink silk to Lady Pembroke’s ball, and cousin Lucien will never dance with me!”
Feeling distinctly as though she’d missed a step somewhere, Alexandra guided the younger girl toward the stairs. “And why wouldn’t your cousin dance with you, pray tell?”
“He hates pink! The last time I wore pink, he said I looked like a flamingo.” Rose stamped her foot and began crying in earnest. “I don’t even know what a flamingo is!”
That didn’t bode well. Lord Kilcairn had made it clear, though, that Alexandra was only to educate his cousin socially; anything academic, other than music and conversational French, would only take time from her primary task. “It’s a bird,” she explained, leading the way into the breakfast room. “Don’t cry, dear. It makes your skin blotchy.”
Rose wiped at her cheeks. “It does?”
“Yes. And you have such a lovely complexion.”
“Thank you, Lex.”
Alexandra had half hoped that the transparent distraction wouldn’t work, but Rose immediately became more concerned with studying her reflection in the mantel mirror than with whatever had caused her tears in the first place. Alexandra had hoped for a bit more substance. They sat to breakfast, the student in far better humor than the teacher.
“What do you wish to do today?” Alexandra asked. “I believe your cousin will be absent until evening and your mother has a luncheon, so we have the house practically to ourselves.”
“I want to practice dancing again. Waltzing, especially.”
“Your waltz is incomparable already, Rose,” Alexandra countered, hiding another frown behind her morning cup of tea. “And you can’t waltz in public until you’ve been presented at Almack’s, which won’t happen until you’re presented at court, which—”
“Which won’t happen for another two weeks, when I turn eighteen. This is so silly. I’m the cousin of the Earl of Kilcairn Abbey. Can’t I just be presented a little early? It’s not as though my birthday won’t happen.”
“No one is presented early,” Alexandra said firmly, a bit surprised at her charge’s sudden self-confidence.
“Well, Mama says I should be.”
That explained it. “I might have known.”
“Beg pardon?” Rose looked up from the peach she was dissecting.
Alexandra hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “Since we’re alone,” she amended in a louder voice, “I thought we might try a bit of drawing room French.”
“Oh, Lex, yesterday was drawing room etiquette, and the day before that was stupid country dances and quadrilles. Can’t we at least do something fun?”
“And tomorrow night is the Hargrove dinner, and the night after that is Vauxhall Gardens. I leave it up to you, Rose.You’rethe one who wants to marry a title.”
“Do you really think you can teach me French in one day? Miss Brookhollow tried for six months, and we hardly got beyondje m’apelle Rose.”
Trying not to flinch at the girl’s accent, Alexandra pasted on a smile instead. “I can teach you drawing room French in a day. That will suffice for now.”
Rose slumped in her chair and sighed. “I’m already getting a headache.”
Alexandra felt a headache coming on, as well. “Nonsense,” she said brightly. “We’ll begin at once.”
