Mama sighed. “I do not understand that girl.”
“I dare say she says the same about you,” murmured Rosanna whilst crossing back to the window.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing, Mama.”
And the lady accepted that, returning to the subject she had spoken of incessantly for the past several weeks. Rosanna’s teeth clenched as she stared out at the gravel drive, her arms crossed tight across her chest. Once more, Mama recounted every moment of the evening, each word more rapturous than the last, prattling on about the ball, the guests, and most importantly, Mr. Tate.
The liar.
Rosanna’s breaths heaved as she thought of the man, viewing with more and more clarity the entirety of his deception. It hadn’t been a simple misunderstanding. Mr. Tate had baldly lied again and again about who he was, his name, and so many other aspects of himself. How much of what he had said was true? Rosanna couldn’t say with any certainty, for if he had been keen to hide his identity, what else had he kept from her?
Rubbing her forehead, she tried to sort through the mess, but she’d spent most of the hours since the gentleman’s little revelation considering the mess, and she had picked through most of it to no avail.
“I am certain he will come,” said Mama. “Certain of it—”
Rosanna turned on her heel and moved to the parlor door.
“Where are you going?” asked Mama.
“To visit Prudence,” said Rosanna.
“But you ought to remain home to receive Mr. Tate when he calls!”
Rosanna ignored that and hurried to her bedchamber to fetch her bonnet and cloak. Pausing only long enough to put them on, she scurried back down the stairs and out the front door. With the transition from summer to autumn, the air was chillier than a few weeks ago, though by no means uncomfortable; there was a pleasant briskness that invited one to walk.
Rosanna glanced at the overcast sky and wondered if rain might fall; they had seen little of it in the past months. It was too late to do much good for this year’s crops, but some sign that the dry months were at an end would be welcome.
With staccato steps, she moved down the drive and onto the lane. Being on the outskirts of Greater Edgerton, the road was not as wide as those in the town proper. A single lane with occasional pull-outs for passing traffic was all the space allowed with no additional roadway for those on foot. Keeping her ears trained for the sounds of approaching carts and carriages, Rosanna lowered her head and stared at the ground ahead of her as she trudged along.
For all the fire that burned in her heart, Rosanna couldn’t help the sharp pains throbbing in her chest every time Mr. Tate came to her thoughts. And he did so more often than she would like to admit.
He had lied to her.
Her jaw ached, and she forced her teeth apart, though it did little to ease the pressure building within her. The image of his expression, when he’d stood before all of Greater Edgerton and introduced himself, burned in Rosanna’s memory. That wicked smile brightened as though it was naught but a good jest. A little nothing. How dare he!
She stomped along the road, and the faint sound of hooves had her shifting to the far side and slowing. A bend in the lane was just ahead, and a horse came into view, pulling behind it a pristine phaeton. And in the driver’s seat was Mr. Tate.
Speak of the devil.
Chapter 17
Pulling up the hood of her cloak, Rosanna covered her bonnet and turned away from Mr. Tate. The phaeton drew closer, and she inched away from the road, praying the snake hadn’t noticed her. The vehicle passed, and Rosanna was just about to let out a sigh when a sharp, “Whoa!” had the horse pulling to a stop.
“Miss Leigh?”
Rosanna continued on her way, her footsteps coming faster as she headed in the opposite direction of the carriage. Returning home was impossible; Mama would insist that she speak with the blackguard, so Rosanna had no choice but to outrun him. Thankfully, she had a bit of a lead, and Mr. Tate couldn’t turn the phaeton to follow.
Unfortunately, the lane was edged by rock walls that were tall enough that she wouldn’t hazard climbing over them. And there were no gate openings. But that didn’t mean she needed to make it easy for him to catch her.
“Miss Leigh!”
She ignored Mr. Tate, though she heard him giving instructions to the groom as he hopped down. Quick footsteps sounded behind her, and she scanned the area for an escape, but she was well and truly trapped.
Then he drew up next to her. “I see you are still piqued. Won’t you allow me to explain?”
“Is there ever a good explanation for lying?” asked Rosanna, throwing back her cloak’s hood, as there was no point in hiding herself any longer.
