“I didn’t throw lemonade at her,” Rosemary told Sterling when he lifted a brow. She frowned at Navessa. “I didn’t throw lemonade at you. If you’ll recall, after you jostled past, my elbow accidentally hit a platter with a pitcher of lemonade on it and yes, it did spill, but–”
“Oh Rosy Poly,” Navessa interrupted in a voice that was a tad too loud and a touch too sweet. “I was onlyjesting. What’s a bit of fun between friends?”
That gave Rosemary cause to hesitate. “I…I wasn’t aware that you considered me your friend.”
“But of course I do! Didn’t we make our debut together? Haven’t we gone to every Marigold Ball together?”
“I don’t know if I would say we’ve gonetogether–”
“We’re practically sisters,” Navessa cooed while her handmaidens suppressed snorts of laughter behind pink satin gloves. “Which is why, when I saw you alone with the Duke of Hanover, I knew that I had to come over straightaway. No offense intended towards His Grace”–she batted her lashes at Sterling–“but my dear, you must understand that a young, unmarried woman such as you should not be in the company of, dare I say it, a scoundrel.” Her lips puckered to form a perfect “o”. “What might peoplesay?”
“The duke and I didn’t do anything.” Even as she spoke the words aloud, Rosemary felt a betraying flush begin to creep up the nape of her neck and spill across her chest in large, blotchy pieces of red. “I mean, we did talk. About–about things. But there’s no harm in talking, is there? And yes, he did help me find my squirrel, but–”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Navessa smirked as her companions burst into giggles and Rosemary’s entire face turned the approximate shade of a ripe tomato.
“That’s enough,” Sterling interceded flatly. “You’ve had your fun, Lady Navessa, while proving just what a cruel, vindictive shrew you are. You mock Rosemary because you perceive her as less than you, but what you don’t realize is that she’s so much more than you could ever hope to be.”
Navessa gasped.
The handmaidens abruptly stopped laughing.
“Your Grace, I–I came over here out of concern,” Navessa sputtered indignantly. “I can assure you there was no mockery intended.”
Sterling merely rolled his eyes. “If anyone believes that, I’ve a three-legged racehorse to sell them.”
As the redness slowly began to recede from her cheeks, Rosemary tentatively touched Sterling’s wrist. “It’s all right,” she murmured. “I am accustomed to it.”
“It’s bloody wellnotall right,” he snapped. “They don’t get to bully and belittle you and get away with it. Not while I’m standing here.”
“Bully and belittle?” Navessa’s blonde head canted to the side as the sugar slipped from her voice and was replaced with cool, calculating spice. “I’d never do such a thing to poor Rosy Poly. Not to say that others won’t once they learn of what she’s been up to all the way out here in the dark with none other than the Duke of Hanover.” She clucked her tongue. “It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? Such a shame.”
“A shame,” her companions echoed in eerie synchronicity.
Ignoring Navessa, Sterling looked straight at Rosemary. His gray eyes were impossible to decipher, their swirling depths filled with a myriad of emotions, but she read the question in them nevertheless. A question that would no longer wait for its answer.
Did she allow Navessa to ruin her? To ostracize her from a Society that had already pushed her to the outskirts? Or did she accept Sterling’s proposal? A marriage where, by his own admission, it wouldn’t matter what she did or where she lived so long as he could say that he had a wife.
Banishment or a loveless marriage.
Neither choice was very appealing.
But she had to pick one.
“I…” She stopped. Wet her lips. Tried again as inside her chest her fragile, hopeful heart beat madly. “I will. I mean, I do. I mean–”
“Excellent,” Sterling said curtly, and was that a flash of relief in his gaze? Before she could tell for certain, he fixed his attention on Navessa. A predatory smile, one that Rosemary did not recognize, claimed his mouth. It made him harder than she knew him to be. Colder. And far more intimidating. “How fortunate that you can be the first to offer your congratulations.”
“My congratulations for what?” Navessa said, the corners of her lips pinching.
“Our betrothal.” He put his arm around Rosemary’s waist, resting his hand with familiar assertion on the curve of her hip. “Before you interrupted us, I asked Miss Stanhope to marry me. She has agreed.”
“M-Marryyou?” Navessa looked as shocked as Rosemary had felt when Sterling first announced his ridiculous plan to save her from ruin. A ridiculous plan that had just become reality, even though she could still hardly believe it. Wouldn’t believe it, she imagined, for at least a few days, or even a few weeks. By then maybe–just maybe–she’d be able to wrap her head around the idea that she was engaged to the Duke of Hanover.
“Indeed. Won’t she make a marvelous duchess?” Turning his head, Sterling kissed the top of her head in a gesture of affection that she thought was a tad overdone until she caught Navessa’s reaction out of the corners of her eyes.
How interesting. She’d heard of turning green with envy before. Until this very second, she had always been under the assumption that it was a metaphor. But there was a definite emerald tinge to Navessa’s countenance. Or maybe it was a trick of the moonlight. Either way, it was obvious that she wasn’t taking the news well. Neither were the handmaidens, if their wide open mouths were any indication.
“You–you cannot beserious,” Navessa managed after a long, stricken pause.
