Which the young lady proved by brightening her smile.
Malcolm turned his gaze away, refusing to look at her. The dismissive movement made his stomach writhe, but there were few defenses a gentleman had against overeager ladies. When dancing two sets was construed as “marked attention,” even the slightest signs of favoritism were tantamount to a declaration, and he’d known a gentleman or two who’d been honor-bound to marry a young lady after giving rise to speculation. Malcolm didn’t intend to be amongst their ranks.
Yet giving a cut direct was hardly the mark of a gentleman, either.
His teeth ground together as he attempted to look pleasant yet disinterested. It was a difficult balance to manage, but Malcolm was all too familiar with it.
“My dear Mrs. Bracegirdle,” said Miss Goddard, though her gaze was turned towards him. “It is such a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Molly, bless her, said nothing in response, but bobbed a greeting.
“It must be so difficult to be so far from home,” said Miss Goddard. “I do hope you are settling in.”
“Yes, thank you. Such a change is always trying at times, but I already adore Lancashire and Greater Edgerton,” said Molly. “I do hope we will remain here for some time.”
“Of course,” said Miss Goddard with a nod, though Malcolm felt her attention fixed on him. He kicked at the grass, nudging the ground with the toe of his boot. “Might I have the honor of introducing you around?”
Malcolm refused to turn his gaze in their direction, but Sidney gave a grunt of annoyance, and Malcolm could well imagine Miss Goddard was nudging the fellow aside, for the next moment, she had Molly by the arm and was leading the three of them along. It served Sidney right for his teasing.
Dash it all, this was going to be a terrible afternoon if he was expected to keep her company. Thankfully, Miss Goddard’s gaze was directed ahead, leaving him out of sight. As Sidney had no compunction about tossing him to the metaphorical wolves, Malcolm felt not the slightest twinge as he slipped away and abandoned the Bracegirdles to Miss Goddard.
Chapter 20
Apicnic ought to be a happy thing. That was its main purpose. Entertainment was its only reason for being, after all. Yes, some hosts’ motivation may have sprouted from social jockeying, pomp, boasting, or any number of reasons that had little to do with their guests enjoying themselves, but beneath it all, there was the hope that those blessed enough to receive an invitation would walk away having found some amusement.
In any other circumstances, Rosanna would eagerly await the moment when the carriage came to a halt and she could lose herself in the conversation, games, and food. Balls and assemblies were wonderful as well, but the enjoyment was entirely dependent on one’s partners; to be trapped in a set with a bore or irritant was interminable. In a gathering with less structure, one was free to flit about as one pleased, visiting with a myriad of people. And when that was done in the beauty of nature with the sun shining, there was nothing better.
Of course, sunshine was in short supply today, as clouds marred the expanse of blue overhead, and instead of anticipation, Rosanna was focused on dread.
What would today be like? Mr. Tate would likely be there, and she had spent most of the past sennight avoiding inquiries about the nature of her relationship with the man. The townsfolk were starved for details about the mysterious gentleman, and they were determined to winkle out as much as they could from the one young lady who had captured his attention.
And matters weren't helped by the fact that their conversation in the street had been witnessed. It may have only been two people of note who had spied them, but it had been the wrong two. Within an hour, everyone in Greater Edgerton society knew of the interlude. Thankfully, they were privy to none of the important details surrounding the conversation, but as Mr. Tate had spent half of the masquerade affixed to Rosanna’s side, it took little imagination for people to speculate wildly about it.
“The carriage would’ve been more comfortable,” said Katherine as another bump in the road had the pair rocking side to side, which caused the iron rail along the top of the seat to dig into their hips. Their place at the back was intended for grooms or servants, so the designer hadn’t bothered with comfort, and with it only just large enough for the pair of Rosanna and her sister, it was impossible to put distance between them and the poking bits.
“If you cannot say anything of value, it’s best to remain silent,” said Mama, not bothering to turn about in the front seat, though Rosanna could well imagine the hard look in the lady’s eyes as she spoke.
Katherine’s chin lifted. “I have plenty to say of value—not that anyone will listen. Have you given any more thought to how we are going to explain accepting such a lavish gift? It’s indecent, and people will talk.”
Mama moved as though to face her daughter, but as she, Papa, and Francis were all squashed into the wider front seat, it was impossible.
“Mr. Tate kindly offered us a new one after he damaged our old one,” she said. “There is nothing indecent about that. It’s gentlemanly.”
“To give us a brand new phaeton that is worth two of that old, worn gig?” replied Katherine with a scowl.
Rosanna’s shoulder collided with her sister’s as Papa drove them into yet another hole. “Dearest, I understand your concern, but—”
“But nothing. You may not have to worry because society adores you, and you can do whatever you wish without them batting an eye, but Francis and I are not so lucky,” said Katherine with a shake of her head.
Her brows pulled tight together, her eyes pleading for Rosanna to understand. “Everyone saw you two together at the masquerade. There is already enough speculation, and this lie is flimsy at best. I don’t know what has happened for Mr. Tate to feel the need to make such an extravagant gesture, but we needn’t simply accept it. This could fundamentally hurt Francis and me. Our standing—”
“Is unlikely to ever alter, as you put no effort into your appearance, my dear,” said Mama. “You insist on wearing those wretched spectacles everywhere, which will never attract a husband. And why did you choose not to wear that red ribbon I purchased for you? The color suits your complexion.”
“I—”
Mama glanced over her shoulder, her brows pulled low. “Your hair is far too straight for that style, and you insist on wearing muted colors that do not suit you one bit. No man wants a plain wife, and it’s as though you are purposefully making yourself as plain as you can. With my help, you wouldn’t be lost amongst the wallflowers, but you refuse any assistance. There is no one to blame for your poor social standing but yourself, so do not snipe at your sister.”
With a quick shift that was a hallmark of that mercurial lady, Mama jabbered to no one in particular about the goings on that were likely to occur at the Chorleys’ picnic, but Rosanna’s attention was fixed on her sister.
