“Believe me, it is just as rampant in London, but with far more prey, the hunters’ attention is easily swayed.” And then, as though realizing what she was saying, the lady blushed, glancing about for eavesdroppers, though there were none about.
Rosanna’s smile broadened. “I believe I like you very much, Mrs. Bracegirdle.”
“Then might I trouble you to join me for a walk?” she asked, nodding towards the edge of the gathering.
“Only if you tell me why you’ve long wished to make my acquaintance.” But before her caveat could be accepted or denied, Rosanna was walking, the ladies moving in a serpentine path around the edge of the gathering.
“My husband is good friends with Mr. Tate,” said Mrs. Bracegirdle.
Without faltering a step, Rosanna kept her pace and breathing even, though her muscles clenched at once. Her wits must be lacking, for Rosanna had been well aware of Mr. Tate’s ties to the Bracegirdles. Scouring her memory, she tried to recall just what had been said about them, but beyond that most basic of information, Rosanna’s thoughts were blank.
“Is that so?” she said, not knowing what else to say.
“We are the reason he settled in Greater Edgerton.”
Rosanna’s brows rose. “Is that so?”
“He needed a change of scenery, and as we were leaving London, he decided to join us.”
“Is that so?”
Mrs. Bracegirdle stopped and faced Rosanna once more, her brows pulled together as she clenched her hands before her. “I am making a muck of this, aren’t I? I do apologize if I’ve offended you with my forwardness. I hadn’t intended—”
“You haven’t anything to fear, Mrs. Bracegirdle. I suppose I ought to have expected Mr. Tate to send someone in to plead his case,” said Rosanna with a sigh as she continued on their path.
But Mrs. Bracegirdle stopped her with a shake of her head. “I am not here to plead his case. I wanted to applaud you for putting him in his place.”
Rosanna stiffened, her eyes widening a touch as she stared at Mrs. Bracegirdle.
“Do not misunderstand me, Miss Leigh. I adore Mr. Malcolm Tate. He is a fine gentleman and a loyal friend to my husband, but when Mr. Bracegirdle told me what he was doing, I couldn’t believe my ears.”
“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” asked Rosanna, her tone rising.
“Absolutely! For him to trick you like that is horrendous.”
Rosanna reached over and threaded her arm through Mrs. Bracegirdle’s, and the pair walked around the edge of the clearing, following the grassy edge of the encroaching forest. At that moment, the bend in their path turned them towards the gathering, bringing Mr. Tate directly into their line of sight. Though he did an admirable job appearing engrossed in his conversation with Mr. Isaacs and Mr. Mandrell, his eyes tracked their progress.
“Did he tell you of his apology?” asked Rosanna.
“You mean how he attempted to buy his way out of his mistakes?” replied Mrs. Bracegirdle with an arched brow. “He relayed the whole mess as we were coming here, and he still cannot comprehend why it failed.”
Mr. Tate turned a smile towards them and raised a hand as though they were the oldest and dearest of friends; the ladies’ grins didn’t falter as they nodded in return, though Mrs. Bracegirdle let out a sharp huff when his attention was turned away.
“No doubt he believes I am trying to convince you to forgive him,” she said. “Mr. Tate is a good man—and I adore him and my husband—but they were raised to believe themselves infallible. Their puffed-up pride knows no bounds, and I welcome any assistance in humbling them.”
Rosanna huffed a laugh, glancing at her companion from the corner of her eye. “There is no doubt about it, Mrs. Bracegirdle: I adore you, and we are to be the best of friends.”
Despite the pinking of her cheeks, Mrs. Bracegirdle’s smile broadened. “Then as your friend, I advise you to remain firm. Working to secure the good opinion of his sweetheart will do Mr. Tate good.”
“We are not sweethearts.”
“Yes, but—”
Rosanna stopped, pulling her companion to a halt as well. “I am not courting Mr. Tate, nor do I have any intention of doing so.”
Mrs. Bracegirdle paused before saying, “He can be a fool—all gentlemen are in some fashion—but Mr. Tate is a good man. One of the best I’ve ever known. Although he doesn’t own the land or profit from it, when he saw the suffering of the laborers whilst delivering those charity baskets, he couldn’t help but do something to aid them. It is in his nature.”
Unable to meet the lady’s eyes, Rosanna stared off at the rolling hills around them. For all that she had cursed and railed against Mr. Tate, she’d often found herself wondering about that bit of goodwill he’d bestowed without any fanfare. Had it not been for the recipients praising him to the skies, no one would’ve been the wiser, although he’d done far more than Rosanna’s charity baskets.
