Darkness rose from the depths of her dream, bringing with it that nameless dread that made her pulse throb at the base of her throat.Don’t think about it.Shut it out.
She washed her face with a towel and managed, “Is Papa out already?”
Mama nodded. “Since he was up helping with Sophie, he thought he might as well get an early start at the office.”
Sophieagain. “I’m surprised you’re not with her now.” The minute the words slipped out Rosie cringed at how petulant she sounded and hoped her parent didn’t notice.
“Libby took her for her daily outing earlier than usual.” Mama selected a silver-backed brush, running it through Rosie’s hair. “I thought I could have some time with you. We’ve not had much of late, have we?”
Relieved, Rosie returned her mama’s smile in the mirror. “No, we haven’t.”
“As a matter of fact, Helena paid a call yesterday while you were out shopping, and it made me realize that you and I have not discussed the Harteford masquerade.”
Despite the soothing strokes of the brush, she tensed. Aunt Helena, the Marchioness of Harteford, was Mama’s bosom friend, and the two were as thick as thieves. Had her aunt noticed her absence during the ball?
“There’s not much to share,” she said cautiously.
“Helena said that you were radiant in your swan costume.” Mama set down the brush, placing her hands onto Rosie’s shoulders. “Any prospects, dearest?”
Rosie contemplated confessing about the stranger (notthat he was a prospect) and instantly rejected the notion. If her mother found out that she’d been unchaperoned in the presence of some mysterious man twiceandshe’d shared a kiss with him, she’d be subjected to a lifetime of sermons. Not to mention, she’d be kept under lock and key henceforth.
Fear of those consequences had led Rosie to withhold the truth even from Polly and Revelstoke. When they’d found her in the rotunda, she’d skimmed over the details of what had transpired, saying simply that Daltry hadn’t showed. Although she’d sensed the couple’s skepticism, she couldn’t very well confess that she’d kissed a stranger in a public place. And that she’d experienced desire for the first time.
And that she was an utter trollop.
“No one of consequence,” she forced herself to say lightly.
“Hmm.”
She was unnerved by the astute gleam in Mama’s eyes. “Hmm… what?”
“You know I only want the best for you, dearest.”
The phrase that always preceded a lecture. Her jaw tensed. “But?”
“Well, Helena mentioned that Mr. Fellowes, a nice young man, asked you to dance and you refused—”
“Because he has no title and no position in Society,” Rosie burst out. “He was only invited because his father does business with Lord Harteford. There was no point in encouraging him when marrying him won’t help my situation at all!”
“There’s no need for dramatics. Your situation, as you put it, isn’t as dire as you believe—”
“Not dire?” Rosie shot up to face her mother. “After that poem, my reputation is hanging on by a thread. If I don’t marry soon andwell, I’ll be an outcast, a nobody—”
“You’re not a nobody,” Mama said sharply. “Why does theton’sopinion matter so much?”
“Because itdoes.” Her hands curled at her sides. “I want to belong, Mama. Why is that so dashed difficult for you to understand?”
“I do understand. I just don’t agree. Rosie, my darling,”—Mama touched her arm, but she pulled away—“desperation doesn’t become you. You are better than this.”
She wasn’t. Why couldn’t anyone get it through their thick skulls?
“I am abastard,” she cried. “I was kidnapped, and no one even knows how I ended up in Gerry’s care. I was damaged goods even before I got publicly branded a flirt!”
Pain—and awful guilt—seized Mama’s features.
“Those are my failures,” she said in a stilted voice, “not yours.”
Ashamed and angry in equal parts, Rosie lifted her chin. “Regardless,Ihave to live with the consequences. I have to find some way to hold my head up. I have to prove that I’m just as good as other debutantes!”
