“It was her idea—all of it. Well, not the game; that’s my forte. But it was her idea that you and Miss Rose meet. Love conquers all, etc.”
“What? Mymotherplanned this? She came here?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded. “She sat in that very chair.”
Hugh almost jumped out of his seat. “That’s ridiculous—she would never—” He stopped, remembering how he’d let it slip that he was going to Cleveland Row. He shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “How did my mother get Lady Rose to agree to such a plan?”
“Did you not know that your mother was engaged to Sir Benedict before she eloped with your father.”
Hugh blinked, too stunned to speak. “Isthatwhat this feud is about?” he asked when he found his voice.
“That, and money. I think there was some dispute over owed debt. Who knows? It’s ancient history. Your mother and Lady Rose have never quarreled and have remained friends for years. It is only their bullheaded husbands who insist on holding grudges and feuding. Lady Rose sat right there on that chair—” she inclined her head toward the chair beside him—“and told her daughter that if you had inherited even half your mother’s admirable characteristics, then she trusted you to be an honorable and worthy gentleman.”
Hugh stared at the dark liquid in his glass and frowned as he absorbed this information. He was stunned that his mother had taken such a bold step, engaging the Black Widow of Whitehall’s services—stunned that she’d maintained a secret friendship with Lady Rose for all these years. Still, it didn’t add up.
“How did you know I’d be interested in Miss Rose?” he asked the widow. “How could my mother possibly think such a far-fetched plan would work?”
“Because Charlotte Rose didn’t earn the moniker ‘the Rose of Mayfair’ for nothing. Every man wants her for himself, andif you wish to stand a chance, you’d better rush over to Lady Applebaum’s immediately.”
The widow’s words cut into Hugh’s heart. Was he going to have to compete with every man in Mayfair?
As though she’d just read his mind, Mrs. Dove-Lyon answered his question, “You don’t have to compete; you’ve already won her. All you need to do is go to her. The rest will take care of itself.”
“Thank you,” Hugh said, standing up.
“Wait!” the widow commanded.
Hugh hesitated.
“I must warn you that after being spotted in the garden last night, Miss Rose’s reputation is in serious jeopardy.” She shook her head. “I gave her strict instructions not to lift her veil, but apparently, you persuaded her otherwise, and two men saw you together.”
Hugh shifted his stance. “Did the rogues who spied on us recognize her?”
“Unfortunately. One of the men is her distant cousin—a nasty fellow called Lucas Richmond. The only reason he’d been allowed into my establishment was because he came with Lord Umbridge. Lady Rose informed me that Richmond was spurned by her daughter last year, so he’ll likely want to use this information to take his revenge.”
“What is to be done?” Hugh asked.
“There’s only one thing to do when it comes to the serious matter of a young lady’s reputation. Make an honest woman out of her. And if that is not your intention, then keep your distance.”
Hugh fell silent as he contemplated her warning. She was right. Mrs. Dove-Lyon was right. His relationship with Miss Rose had gone further than friendship, despite the short time they’d known each other. He would have liked to get to knowher better, but he didn’t have that luxury now. He rubbed his forehead. It seemed too rash, but he had to act on his instincts. He had not stopped thinking about Miss Rose since the moment he’d met her. He could not let her go, and he would not treat her dishonorably or hurt her, so there was only one answer to this predicament, and it was marriage. Then a thought struck him.
“Sir Benedict will never permit a Warsham to marry his daughter,” he said, looking up at Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
“Then don’t ask, and take matters into your own hands,” the widow said.
Chapter Nine
“He isn’t coming.”Charlotte scanned the ballroom, anxiety gnawing at her insides. She’d worn her new blush silk empire dress, made especially for the ball, and paired it with white gloves, her diamond rose necklace, and a sparkling, small tiara. But her efforts only increased the stares directed at her from all corners of the room and the low whispers that accompanied them. Had Lucas blabbed, or was she simply imagining things?
“Everyone is staring at me, Mama,” Charlotte whispered.
“Of course, they are, my sweet. After all, you are the ‘Rose of Mayfair,’ and they want to see if you’ll favor anyone tonight.”
But her mother’s reassurances did little to comfort her. Something was amiss. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Dove-Lyon had been wrong. Lucas was spiteful and wouldn’t miss this opportunity to ruin her. If news reached her father… She shuddered and turned her thoughts back to Hugh, scanning the ballroom again.
Where is he?Perhaps, it was as she’d feared, and he’d turned against her once he’d learned the truth of her identity.
Then her gaze fell on the unmistakable copper-haired head of Lucas Richmond. Her stomach seized, and a cold chill took hold of her as she saw he was engaged in deep conversation with agroup of young men.He’s ruining my reputation as I stand idly by and watch.
