This was her Mr. Malcolm.
No.
It was Mr. Tate.
And that was when reality struck with new force.
Neither fate nor class distinctions had placed that gaping rift between the pair. No, the anguish Rosanna had felt was entirely constructed by Mr. Malcolm’s lies—by Mr. Tate. He had lied to her. Tormented her with thoughts of what couldn’t be.
“Only for tonight.”He’d spoken the words so easily, giving no hint as to the truth of the situation.
That lying snake!
Had he been toying with her? Amusing himself as rich men were wont to do? Playing the part of the groom to dispel the ennui rife in his over-privileged life? There were so many questions and no answers, and buried beneath it all was a heat that filled her cheeks at the thought of all the clear signs of dishonesty she’d overlooked. Rosanna had been a fool to have believed any of it.
Glancing at the far side of the room, she studied the door and wondered if fleeing was a possibility. Mama would never allow her to call for the carriage, so going on foot was the only possibility. But they were some miles from town, and even if her slippers could make the trip (which they couldn’t), she was dressed entirely wrong for such a trek. It would take some time to arrive home, and she would be chilled and worn to the bone.
But she would be far from Mr. Malcolm—Mr. Tate!
“Isn’t this wonderful?” asked Mama, and Rosanna gathered the last bit of her willpower to force a smile onto her face. She wasn’t going to answer, but neither was she going to cause a scene.
Not until she knew what sort of scene she wished to cause.
At present, she still couldn’t grasp the shift in the world and longed for some explanation that would grant her the possibility of courting her Mr. Malcolm without him being a horrid, nasty liar who had played her false.
Their host finished his rousing speech and was met with a flurry of applause. With a wave of his hand, the musicians began to play again, but it also opened the floodgates and his guests swarmed about him.
Mama tugged on her arm. “Come, you mustn’t surrender the ground you’ve gained tonight.”
Affecting her most winning smile, Rosanna laughed. “And let him think he has won the upper hand? He will grow bored with me if I am too eager.”
“Of course,” said Mama, nodding furiously. “I am a ninny.”
Rosanna murmured some other nonsense, her heartbeat keenly aware thathewas watching her. She turned away and slipped through the crowd, though it was a battle as the rest of the party all seemed keen to introduce themselves to their host that very moment, and she had to fight against the current flowing towards him.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. Malcolm attempting to follow, but the same impediment that slowed her worked doubly hard against his progress. Then she blended into the gathering and disappeared.
*
Perfection. Though it seemed an impossible standard to achieve, Malcolm thought tonight certainly deserved the description. Of course, there was the small issue of his attention being stolen away from Miss Leigh, but the first half of the evening was so entirely perfect that it outweighed any imperfections. Malcolm had his answer—Miss Leigh truly cared for him as a man and not a pocketbook—and this farce was complete, allowing him the freedom to woo her as he so desired.
If only he could find her, but the press of people made her impossible to follow.
“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tate,” said a lady with a curtsy. “My family was so pleased to receive your invitation.”
As he hadn’t properly met hardly a person in the gathering, Malcolm hadn’t the foggiest notion who she was, and the invitation had hardly been a personal thing (though her tone seemed to imply that it was). Molly had simply included the entire wretched town.
“How good of you to join us this evening,” he said with a vague nod before moving on his way. But the lady stepped in his way once more, waving for a few young ladies to step forward.
“Allow me the honor of introducing my daughters, Miss Mariah Goddard, Miss Phillipa Goddard, and Miss Veronica Goddard,” said their mother, and without further ado, she nudged them towards Malcolm, as though he would immediately pluck one of them to be his bride.
The girls were hardly unique. Though whimsically dressed, they looked the same as any of the dozens (if not hundreds) of other young ladies tossed at him; and judging by the other mothers gathering nearer with their progeny in hand, it was clear this pattern would continue tonight as well. Each of them fluttered their eyelashes hard enough to make the candles on the wall flicker, beaming at him as though healthy teeth were the only thing a man desired in a wife and they were determined to display theirs.
“Ah, yes. It is a pleasure to meet you all,” he said with a nod. “But I fear you must excuse me. I have many more guests to greet.”
Fire flashed in Mrs. Goddard’s gaze, though her smile never faltered. “Yes, there are so many in attendance, though I doubt any of them are quite so beguiling as my girls.”
Elbowing them forward once more, she hedged Malcolm in while her darling daughters stirred up a whirlwind with their fluttering lashes.
