The door opened, and Rosie slipped in. Dressed for bed, her blond tresses loose over her chintz wrapper, she had a dreamy look in her eyes. She flopped backward onto Polly’s bed.
“Revelstoke is staying the night,” she announced in dramatic tones. “I heard Papa tell Pitt to have the spare room in the mews readied.”
The thought of Revelstoke spending the night sent afrissonthrough Polly. At the same time, she frowned in confusion. “Why would Ambrose put a guest in the mews?”
“Strange, isn’t it? And terribly inhospitable, if you ask me. I don’t know Papa’s reasons, and the truth is I don’t care.” Rolling onto her belly, Rosie propped her chin in her hands. “The point of the matter is that Revelstoke said he would call and he did—and he’s chosen to stay, even if it’s in a room above the stables.” She gave a swoony sigh. “Isn’t it romantic? He must be truly smitten with me.”
Seeing the sunburst of hope around her sister, Polly bit her lip. The last thing she wanted was to destroy Rosie’s optimism after the disappointments of the last Season. Rosie had been through enough with gentlemen failing to come up to scratch and damaging her reputation in the process. By some miracle, the gossip labelling her a flirt had died as quickly as it had started, but the girl’s self-confidence had been visibly shaken. Although Rosie tried to hide her reaction, Polly could see desperation and despair seeping in, dimming her sister’s glow.
She didn’t want to see the other hurt again. And Revelstoke was clearly trouble.
She sat next to Rosie on the bed. “You must have a care. There’s more going on with Revelstoke than appears on the surface. Whatever he and Ambrose spoke about, I’m sure it’s trouble.”
“Did you… sense something?” Rosie said, her jade eyes wide.
Hesitating, Polly gave a nod. “His emotions are as dark and complicated as any I’ve seen—and don’t ask me why,” she said before the other could interrupt. “You know I can’t read his mind.”
It was yet another drawback of her ability. Just because she could see emotions didn’t mean that she understood what elicited them. It made for frustrating guesswork, akin to reading a book with every other paragraph missing. Sometimes she was right, and sometimes she was wrong—the most prominent example of the latter being the case of Lord Thomas Brockhurst.
She’d made the assumption that the attraction in his aura had been for her, but obviously she’d been mistaken. Perhaps he’d been thinking of someone else when they were together. Or perhaps he had been attracted to her but not enough to overcome his repugnance of the flaw she’d so imprudently disclosed.
Why, oh why, did I tell him about my aberration?
There was no use regretting what could not be undone. Just as it was futile to try to understand Brockhurst’s true motives. In the end, she knew one thing for certain: she wouldnevershare her secret with any man again.
“So what if Revelstoke has a few demons? Part of his attraction is how deliciously wicked he is. Just ask any of the ladies salivating after him.” Rosie sat up, curling her arms around her raised knees. “And wouldn’t it be grand ifIwere the one to conquer his demons?”
“Or he could ruin you utterly. He’s a dangerous and degeneraterake,” Polly pointed out, “and one of the wildest ones, according to you.”
“You know what they say about reformed rakes making the best husbands. Why, look at Strathaven. He’s utterly devoted to Emma.”
“Yes, but that’s different. His Grace was interested in Emma from the start—”
“Isn’t Revelstoke interested in me?” A tremor entered Rosie’s voice. “Did you see attraction in his aura, Polly? Tell me,please.”
Polly’s insides knotted. At the dinner table, shehadglimpsed desire in Revelstoke’s tumultuous aura; what man wouldn’t find Rosie appealing? But the earl’s glow had swirled with a host of other darker feelings, including the shame she’d seen back at Mrs. Barlow’s.
What does he have to feel ashamed for—what is he hiding?Polly wondered with a shiver. Moreover, the fact that Revelstoke was attracted to Rosie didn’t mean that his intentions were honorable. Polly herself knew from experience that a man might feel one way and act another. In the hierarchy of rakehells, Brockhurst probably fell somewhere in the middle; imagine the havoc that Revelstoke, thegodof rakes, could wreak upon a vulnerable girl like Rosie.
Desperation spurred Polly to say, “The earl’s aura was agitated, full of anger and fear. My best guess is that he’s in some sort of trouble, which is why he sought out Ambrose—”
“But attractionwasin his aura?”
Polly hesitated… and gave a reluctant nod.
Relief shone in Rosie’s eyes, her uncertainty passing like clouds. “I just knew he liked me! Oh, Polly, I’m so happy. He’s exactly the sort of husband I’ve been waiting for, and this time I shan’t let the opportunity pass me by. Imagine me, acountess,” she said giddily. “Those sticklers of thebeau mondewill have to eat their words, and can’t you just see the looks on the other debs’ faces? Why, they’ll be pea green with envy that I landed the biggest catch of all!”
“Have you heardanythingI’ve said?”
“If Revelstoke’s in trouble, I’m sure Papa will help him out of it,” Rosie said airily.
Polly struggled to find a foothold in Rosie’s impenetrable adoration of Revelstoke. And she knew of only one way. As much as she dreaded dredging up the humiliation, she had to—for her sister’s sake. “There’s something else… something I haven’t told you.”
Rosie’s head canted to one side.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “That night, when I overheard Brockhurst talking about the wager… Revelstoke was there, too.”
“Hewas?” Her sister blinked. “Why didn’t you mention that you’d met him before?”
