Despite the dance drawing them in once more, Mr. Isaacs continued to give an account of his sister’s felicity (albeit in a broken manner as he struggled to dance, breathe, and speak all at the same time). Rosanna nodded at all the appropriate moments, giving him little signs that she was listening; however, her thoughts were far from the conversation.
Her gaze drifted through the crowd as memories surfaced of all the people in the gathering she’d aided in some fashion. Some young ladies simply needed a friend to bolster their confidence, like Miss Isaacs. Others required more assistance to navigate society’s treacherous waters. Gentlemen who only lacked the proper introductions to gain a better standing in their professions or their matrimonial endeavors.
Reputations she’d repaired. Friendships she’d forged. Courtships she’d fostered.
Though not prideful enough to claim she had touched every life in this room, as Rosanna searched the crowd, she could easily say she’d had significant impacts on many of them. Dozens, if not hundreds, of good deeds that seemed insignificant at the moment, but like the tiny seeds planted in springtime, they brought forth mighty fruits in the autumn.
Rosanna’s eyes stung, and her breath hitched as a palpable warmth spread through her. It was as though someone had lit a bonfire in her chest, and the heat seeped into her soul—burning away the fear that had taken hold of her heart since the Chorleys’ picnic. Mr. Tate hadn’t brought out the worst in her, and the evidence of it blazed in her heart.
Giving a vague smile to the lady at her right as Rosanna chasséd around her, she fought to keep her brows from pinching together as she considered that thought.
It wasn’t right. Not entirely. For Mr. Tate had nothing to do with Rosanna’s behavior—it had been established long before he ever arrived in Greater Edgerton. However, it was he who had made her see that talent for what it was. Something she’d never recognized until his tender words.
Goodness. The world was shifting too often and too rapidly tonight. Thankfully, Rosanna was adept at feigning attention when hers was occupied elsewhere, for there was no other way she’d be able to dance about the floor, smiling and laughing with the others, whilst the metaphorical ground beneath her feet twisted this way and that.
Mr. Tate’s apology and this epiphany had come too close together, for they eroded her good sense and begged her to find him and embrace friendship, courtship, or whatever else he wished to give.
But could this be believed? Could he? Rosanna didn’t know what was happening to her world, but she needed direction. Turning in place, she caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd that might be able to offer that very thing.
Forcing her thoughts to the here and now, Rosanna threw herself into the dance whilst urging the notes to move faster. When they finally ended, she struggled not to hurry off to manage her business. Instead, she dutifully took Mr. Isaacs’s hand and allowed him to guide her out of the dancers all while searching the crowd for that face once more.
A quick farewell and she was free!
Only to be stopped by a gentleman who stepped forward and swept into a bow.
“I believe the next set is mine, Miss Leigh.”
Rosanna held back a sigh. “Yes, Mr. Potts. Of course. Perhaps you might grant me a moment. I know it is abominably rude to ask you to wait, but I really must speak with Mrs. Bracegirdle about something terribly urgent.”
“But not too dire, I hope,” said Mr. Potts with a comical grimace.
“Certainly not,” she replied with a laugh of sorts. It was not her usual easy one, but it did the trick, for Mr. Potts nodded and motioned for her to go.
Sliding through the crowd, Rosanna moved in the direction she’d seen the lady last and soon spied her quarry. Molly smiled as she approached.
“Well, it is good to see you, Miss Leigh. I cannot believe how tardy we were. It took an age to get my ensemble right.”
Pulling the lady away from the others, Rosanna didn’t bother with pleasantries, for there was no time for such things.
“Be honest with me.”
Molly’s brows rose. “Does it truly matter that my husband made us late?”
Rosanna frowned, her thoughts struggling to understand what the lady meant. Then, with a shake of her head, she added, “Not about your tardiness. About Mr. Tate. I haven’t long, for I am to stand up again with Mr. Potts, but I must know the truth, or I shall run mad.”
And not bothering to slow, she quickly recited the main points of her conversation with Mr. Tate. With Mr. Potts standing at the edge of the dancing, watching her, Rosanna’s mouth ran away with her, hurrying to disclose everything as rapidly as possible.
Drawing in a deep breath, she added in a rush, “You’ve known him far longer than I, and I cannot trust my judgment at present. Can his contrition be believed? Is this a sudden alteration that will be forgotten once my affection is secured?”
With each word, Molly stiffened, her eyes widening, and when the final question was asked, she stared back at Rosanna with her brows pulling tight together.
“That is a question,” she murmured, shifting in place as her gaze darted away from Rosanna.
And at that moment, Rosanna realized just what it was she was asking of her new friend. Drawing in a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a brief moment to gather her wits about her once more. As she let out a long sigh, her shoulders sagged.
“I realize I am putting you in a difficult position. I do not want to force a confidence or make you choose between honoring our friendship and Mr. Tate’s—and in turn, your husband’s. I am so at odds at present, and I’m allowing it to destroy my good sense. I apologize.”
Rosanna turned to join Mr. Potts, but Molly stopped her with a hand on her arm.
