A half hour later, as they left the dance floor, her pulse still raced, her breathing seemed slightly taxed, and her ears buzzed from the band’s lively playing. She hadn’t felt such intensity since the morning of the awful news that Finn’s ship had sunk. Moreover, the brittle enclosure in which she imagined she’d placed her heart — along with her dead husband’s for safekeeping — had cracked open ever so slightly.
William was humorous without being snide or cynical. He was witty without being boastful. He made her laugh, kept her amused, and was a splendid dancer. In short, charming.
Rose was suffused with a lightness that felt like happiness.
When she went with Claire to the powder room, they talked about their dance partners and nothing else. Hair tidied, lace straightened, noses powdered, they looked at each other in the mirror.
“I’m so glad for you,” Claire said. “I know it’s been hard. You haven’t been yourself for the past few years.” She never brought up Finn’s name, knowing how desperate Rose was to keep her clandestine marriage a secret. “I’m so glad you’ve found some happiness at last.”
“It’s early days yet,” Rose cautioned. “We are only dancing.”
“And smiling. And laughing. And your eyes are sparkling.”
Rose shrugged but glanced at herself in the mirror, looking into her own sapphire blue Malloy eyes. “Are they?”
“Come on,” Claire said. “Let’s get back to the menfolk.”
However, the first thing that met Rose’s gaze when she approached the refreshment table was William Woodsom speaking with Maeve, who had high spots of color on her cheeks and a sweet smile on her face.
Rose couldn’t contain a sigh of exasperation, nor could she help from frowning. Was she really going to put up with a possible philanderer? Did she have enough feeling for him even to care what he did? She searched her heart. In some small corner, she was coming to like William. Only the tiniest bit.
Claire had already sought out Franklin, so Rose strode over to the couple.
“Mr. Woodsom,” she said with a nod to him. “Miss Norcross, you look lovely as always.”
Maeve blushed.
What game was Maeve playing? Rose wondered. Franklin’s cousin had so pointedly warned her away from William as if he were the devil incarnate, and yet quite of her own volition, she was talking to him. Perhapshehad approachedher.
“Are you finding Mr. Woodsom’s advances more acceptable this evening?”
Maeve’s mouth dropped open in shock.
Rose smiled beatifically and tilted her head. “I mean, are you going to rebuff the poor gentleman again?”
“What?” William exclaimed, as Maeve flushed deeper and looked wide-eyed from him to Rose. “Miss Norcross, what is Miss Malloy talking about?” he asked.
Maeve only offered a shallow curtsey and ran off.
“Hm,” Rose said, crossing her arms and watching her go.
William put his hand on her arm and turned her to face him. “Would you mind telling me what that was all about?”
Rose eyed him squarely. “Are you interested in pursuing the lovely Miss Norcross?”
His expression was one of puzzlement.
“She is indeed lovely, and as you know, we previously formed an extremely brief attachment. However, I can assure you that I have no interest in her beyond the fact that she came over to say hello. I was merely being polite, as my mother raised me to be.”
He took Rose’s hand. “I am standing with the singular lady in whom I have any interest in pursuing. I promise you that.”
“Is that becauseIlet you kiss me and Miss Norcross did not?”
She had spoken in a normal tone of voice. Unfortunately, as she spoke, a couple of older women walked close enough that her words were overheard. Mrs. Cabot faltered in her footsteps and glanced briefly at Rose and then at William.
Rose only rolled her eyes at the old biddy, who grabbed the other woman’s hand and hurried on.
William couldn’t help laughing. “It’ll be all over Boston by midnight and the rest of New England by midday tomorrow.”
