Shaking free of that, Rosanna drew in a deep breath. Attraction was a shallow, empty thing. That was something Parker Humphreys had taught her last year. Having a beau who valued her as more than an ornament had been the prime enticement, pushing her to cast aside her sister’s feelings.
Like all the other lessons she’d learned of late, Rosanna was not willing to ignore that growth and return to the frivolous creature she was. She was more than an ornament. More than a pretty face. And she wanted a man who understood that and loved her all the more for it.
Unfortunately, that thought drew her back to a subject that was best left undisturbed. Mr. Malcolm was a fine fellow, but there was no good to be had in longing for someone she couldn’t have. To give in to that temptation would be to doom them to heartbreak. If not now, it would come later as their incompatible lives attempted to blend.
Better to let it go now than prolong their suffering.
But it was impossible not to think of him and what he would say when Mr. Woodhouse was so tedious. Mr. Malcolm was certain to make the evening entertaining if nothing else. Filled with proper conversation—in which both parties spoke.
“So, it is decided?” asked Mr. Woodhouse.
“What is?”
“Our ride together?”
Rosanna’s brows rose. “As you haven’t asked me if I wish to go riding with you, there is nothing decided.”
“Were you not listening, Miss Leigh?” he asked with a furrowed brow. Then, shaking his head, he added, “I am certain you were simply giddy from the dancing.”
“Believe me, Mr. Woodhouse,” she replied with a smile. “I was listening, and you did not ask. And I am not giddy.”
Far from it.
“Then will you do me the honor of riding out with me tomorrow?”
“Finally, a question mark,” she murmured. Then, raising her voice, she added, “I fear I am occupied tomorrow.”
Thankfully, fate smiled upon her. The music ended, and Rosanna was free to abandon Mr. Woodhouse. Perhaps she ought to have been gentler in her dismissal, but she couldn’t bear another moment of listening to him drone on about how vastly superior his dogs were to any others in England or allowing him to try to convince her that she ought to ride out with him, so he could parade her about town like some prize.
But before she was able to flee the dance floor, another gentleman appeared before her, sweeping into a low bow.
“Good evening, my dear lady,” he said, in a low tone. “Might I say you are the loveliest lady here tonight?”
Her brows pulled together as she studied his mask, though the plain thing gave little away. His clothing was fine, to be certain, but unremarkable—except that his lack of a costume was a little unusual. Her eyes scoured for little details, though he was well covered.
“You are too kind, sir,” she said, fighting back a sigh.
“Not kind but honest.”
The opening strains of music began, and he dropped into another low bow. “I had hoped to secure your first set, but as I was too slow, might I be so bold as to ask for your second?”
Rosanna stared at the gentleman. There was no hint as to who he was, but it mattered little. As much as she wished to send him away and indulge in some proper conversation with the ladies, she could never be so bold (and rude) as she was in the privacy of her thoughts. It wasn’t his fault that she was already bored with dancing and fawning.
“Of course, sir,” she said with a smile that, though forced, was kind.
He offered up his arm, though it would be a few minutes before the next set began, and just as she was about to send him off to fetch her a drink so that she might have a few minutes to herself, he spoke.
“It is good to see you tonight.”
Though innocuous, there was a hint of humor to his tone that gave Rosanna pause.
Unable to hide the confusion in her gaze, she slanted a look at him. “I am pleased to be here.”
“I thought you preferred hurling yourself into streams.”
Rosanna halted in place, her heart alternating between being chilled and flushed, leaping about and stilling altogether. He was here.
He was here?
