They turned and crossed to the other side, and though Mr. Malcolm said nothing, his eyes spoke volumes, begging her to help him understand the sudden shift in her mood.
“It is almost midnight,” she whispered when she drew near enough.
But Mr. Malcolm merely shook his head, waving that away, and Rosanna’s heart fractured further.
“You cannot remain,” she murmured when the dance drew them close again. “You cannot risk it. If you are recognized, you will lose your position.”
“Let me worry about that,” he replied in the next pass. “Just enjoy the moment, Miss Leigh.”
But for all that she tried to do so, Rosanna’s steps felt heavy as they moved through the final figures. When the music ended, she found herself unable to give more than a cursory clap. Standing before him, Rosanna wished to rip away his mask and memorize every line of his face.
On the far side of the room, a gong sounded, booming like the chime of a clock. One, two, three.
“Please go,” she whispered. “This isn’t worth you risking your livelihood.”
Four, five, six.
Mr. Malcolm gave her hand a squeeze, his eyes sparking once more. “Yes, you are.”
Seven, eight, nine.
“Mr. Malcolm, please!”
And when the gong sounded the final boom, those wearing masks reached for the ribbons and pulled their coverings free.
Only then did Mr. Malcolm move, and as much as Rosanna’s heart crumbled at the thought of him leaving, a lightness filled her chest. It was for the best. He would keep his position, and they would have this lovely night together. That was enough.
Rosanna’s chin trembled, but she bit down on her lip to stop herself as her gaze followed Mr. Malcolm slipping through the crowd. But then he stopped at the edge and turned to face them all.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” he said.
Everything inside her stilled, and she remained frozen in place as Mr. Malcolm pulled his mask free to reveal a beaming smile.
“Welcome to my home. I am your host, Mr. Malcolm Tate.”
Chapter 14
Whispers and titters rippled through the room, quickly followed by rousing applause, and Rosanna stood there, staring at Mr. Malcolm as he nodded and grinned at the crowd. Holding up a hand, Mr. Malcolm quieted the crowd before doling out welcomes as graciously as any host. Her thoughts ground to a halt as though the gears no longer functioned, and Rosanna glanced out at the crowd, to see if the real Mr. Tate would appear.
Surely this was a jest. A strange joke hatched between master and servant. Yet the groom remained where he was, playing the part of master of the manor with all the ease of a man born into the role. Which he was, of course.
Blinking, Rosanna struggled with the scene playing out before her and the last few weeks, and it felt like forcing two disparate pieces of a puzzle together. But as memories flooded her mind, this new reality took hold of her, forcing her to acknowledge the strangeness of the past few weeks.
Mr. Malcolm had never behaved like a servant. He danced like a gentleman. Although his attire was simple, he dressed finer than any groom ought. And for all Mr. Malcolm’s excuses, what master gave his clothes to such a low-ranking servant? More than that, he stood before her, declaring to all of Greater Edgerton that he was, in fact, Mr. Malcolm Tate. Surely that was proof enough.
Her body felt heavy, and Rosanna longed for a place to sit, but that required her limbs to move, which was entirely beyond her capability at present.
“Isn’t this perfect!” Mama came up beside her, taking Rosanna’s arm in hers and fairly hopping in place. “Don’t think I didn’t notice just how much time you spent with our esteemed host. He was following you like a puppy. You are certain to win his affection in a snap.”
Mama’s voice blared amongst the guests, and Rosanna’s gaze darted around as she hushed the lady’s hasty words. But there was no stopping them. Thankfully, everyone else was too busy admiring the handsome and wealthy Mr. Tate to notice Mrs. Leigh’s raptures.
Mr. Tate.
Rosanna’s heart lightened. Wasn’t this precisely what she had hoped for? Perhaps not precisely, but who was she to question the miracle that saved them from parting tonight as strangers?
And in those few fluttering heartbeats, she imagined what would come next. They had shared two sets together already, so a third was impossible, but no doubt Mama would do everything in her power to dissuade anyone else from standing up with Rosanna and stealing her from Mr. Tate’s side. There would be others vying for his attention as well, but what did it matter?
Tomorrow, he could call on her properly. Perhaps speak to her father. Take her on drives. Flowers and secret love notes. Rosanna had played the courting game enough to know precisely what it entailed, but never had it made her heart flutter so.
