The Duke's Christmas Greetings (Regency Christmas Summons Book 3) (19 page)

He opened without knocking. The imperious, white-haired woman he sought glanced up from the volume she was reading, a smile hovering around her lips.

“Well, Anthony?” She put aside her book.

“Grandmother, I am ready to court the only woman in the world who can make me happy,” he confessed. “Have I your blessing?”

“You had it from the day you first came to Danby,” she retorted crisply. “What took you so long?”

“When you enter the ballroom tonight,’” Helen lectured as she stuck pins into Rosamond’s curly hair, “be sure to pause for a moment so that all eyes are focused upon you. Richard likes it when a woman makes a grand entrance.”

Rosamond’s eyes filled with tears. It had to be the way that Helen was stabbing hairpins into her scalp. It couldn’t be because she was absolutely miserable. “I shall try.”

“Frances, do be helpful and select a pair of earbobs and a necklace from Rosie’s jewel case,” Helen scolded. “None of us have time to be idle.”

Frances leapt from her position on the chaise lounge and dutifully scavenged through Rosamond’s jewelry collection. “I know, I know,” she muttered, combing through Rosamond’s gems. “It’s just that I keep waiting for Richard to arrive. If I continue to look out the window, I might catch a glimpse of him.”

“I can’t believe he’s not here already.” Helen glanced at her handiwork in the mirror. “Fancy, making Mama and Papa wait this long. I don’t care if he has been on the other side of the world. One should have a sense of the fitness of things. After all, he has a lovely woman waiting for him, right here.” She patted Rosamond’s shoulder.

Frances took out a pair of diamond earbobs, and an ornate diamond necklace that always made Rosamond blush with shame. It was far too elaborate and fancy for a country girl, especially when she would rather fade into the background of other people’s lives. On the other hand, it was a good choice for tonight. Apparently, Richard preferred completely pretentious and attention-seeking women.

“Come, stand up.” Helen directed Rosamond over to the armoire, where they had hung her deep wine-colored dress on the door. “Did you wear your corset? Good. Let’s tighten it before we drop the dress over your head.”

Rosamond gave an inward groan. What she wouldn’t give for a lithe, slim figure. Helen and Frances never had to wear corsets, which were essentially a product of a bygone age. But to achieve the necessary gracefulness of figure, she had to stuff herself into one like a sausage. “Grab on to something, and suck in your breath,” Helen ordered.

Rosamond complied, and the stays around her waist tightened.

“Excellent.” Helen motioned to Frances, and the two girls tugged the dress carefully over Rosamond’s head, taking great care not to muss her hair. Then Frances fastened the diamond necklace around her neck, while Helen slipped the earbobs into her ears.

The girls exchanged satisfied smiles when they were done.

“Perfect,” declared Frances.

“Just what Richard wants,” added Helen.

Rosamond glanced at herself in the mirror, and gasped. She didn’t look like herself at all. The wine-colored gown, a gift from Papa that she had hidden in the back of her wardrobe, was cut lower than she was used to. However, the necklace covered up her too-bare
décolletage
.

Helen handed her a gossamer shawl. “Here. We’ll put on our heavy cloaks downstairs.”

Rosamond nodded. Never had she felt so utterly miserable. There was nothing she could do. Everything was going according to plan. In fact, the sisters had said over and over that everything was going smashingly according to plan. Their part in the plan was now complete. They had dolled her up to look like a stranger, and instructed her on how best to snare Richard with her coquettish ways. Nothing remained except the most important part.

Now she had to entrance a man she’d nurtured a
tendre
for since childhood, even though she was certain that she loved his brother instead.

She drew on her gloves. Then she picked up her fan. “Thank you both for working so hard on my behalf. I don’t know how I can ever show my appreciation.”

“Marry our brother,” Frances teased. “Having him off the bachelor lifestyle will certainly be a relief.”

Ah, yes. Marry their brother. But which one? Would the girls be just as pleased if she threw herself at Anthony and begged him to marry her?

She followed the girls downstairs, where Lord and Lady Carew were waiting. She had to walk more slowly than Frances and Helen, as her corset made it difficult to breathe and to descend stairs. As she trailed behind them, Anthony stepped into the vestibule.

Rosamond’s heart skipped a beat. He was so handsome. No, handsome was an inadequate word. Yes, his black hair was brushed back sleekly, and only an unruly lock curled rebelliously over his forehead. Yes, the cut of his suit was impeccable, showing off how very muscular and tall Anthony was—probably from all the hard physical labor he insisted on doing himself. There was something about him that was more striking than conventional male good looks.

There was a vitality and an earthiness to Anthony that somehow made every other man she’d ever met seem like a puppet. Including Richard.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Lord Carew effused as she made her way down the last few stairs. “I declare, Jane, we have a bevy of belles in our midst.”

Lady Carew gave Rosamond a kind smile that warmed her heart. “Yes, we are most fortunate to have such pretty girls to take to the Danby ball.”

Anthony said nothing, but simply stared at Rosamond. She wasn’t sure if he thought she looked nice, or if he was dumbfounded by her ridiculous splendor.

They crowded into the Carews’ large carriage, for even the luxurious, outsized carriage was a little too small for two men and four women. Anthony sat across from the three girls, beside his parents. He was situated directly across from Rosamond, and it was difficult indeed not to raise her eyes and look directly at him every time she just wanted to look up. So she kept her eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor. There was no need to moon at Anthony. If he caught a glimpse of the depth of her feelings for him, it would be highly embarrassing.

“Who are you going to dance with for the first dance?” Helen nudged her.

“I…hadn’t thought…” Rosamond shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. She had no idea whom she should dance with. She didn’t know anyone at Danby Castle save Richard and Anthony.

“Anthony, do be a good chap and dance with Rosamond,” Frances wheedled. “I know you hate to, but it’s a lively country dance. You’ll like it.”

“Yes, Anthony, do,” Helen added. “Rosamond won’t have anyone until…” She shot a covert glance at her parents. “Until certain people arrive.”

Thank goodness for the relative darkness of the carriage, lit only by dim lanterns. It concealed her hot cheeks, which must look absolutely scarlet by now. “He doesn’t have to,” she managed to mutter. “I’ll be quite fine on my own.”

“I’d be delighted.” Anthony gave her a warm smile. “I’m not very good though. I must warn you. You may dance once with me and then declare yourself done.”

“Indeed.” Helen giggled. “More than one lady has had her toes stepped on.”

A ridiculous feeling of loyalty mixed with gratitude shot through Rosamond. “Thank you, sir.” Even though she had called him Anthony before, and they had spent an entire evening alone in each other’s company, she must remain formal before his parents.

She pressed herself as far into one corner of the carriage as she could. If she could just disappear for a moment, perhaps her friends would stop calling attention to her. It was most distressing to be the center of attention.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, until they spotted the brightly-lit torches of Danby Castle leading the way to the front entrance. She gathered her courage. She must achieve what she and Richard’s sisters set out to accomplish.

The ballroom was a magnificent room lit by towering chandeliers. It was also the scene of an absolute crush. Everywhere she turned, well-dressed people were in her way. She managed to remove her cloak and hand it off to a servant, before seeking a place along the wall. With her back to an elaborate fresco, she could observe the ballroom better, without feeling lost and disoriented.

“You aren’t going to remain a wallflower all evening.” Frances groaned, coming to stand beside her. “We won’t let you. If necessary, we will force Anthony to dance with you until Richard arrives. I shall tell him right now. You want more than just the first dance.”

“No, don’t. I just needed to get my bearings,” she retorted. She was grateful to her friends, she really was, but their constant attendance on her was starting to rub. “I’m sure Bexley will be here soon to escort me to the floor.”

The musicians struck up the opening country dance, and Anthony did not appear. She waited, squinting around the ballroom. Such a tall, powerful man would stand out, even in a crowd as big as this. Frances and Helen were claimed by their partners, and made their way to the floor. Rosamond waited, her back pressed against the wall, as the musicians continued and all the couples lined up on the floor. Then the dance began in earnest, and she was still without a partner.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked fiercely. She would not cry. She had a corset that cut her breath at every turn, and a million hairpins grazing her scalp. She would focus on the physical pain she was enduring, rather than on the humiliation and pain of being summarily forgotten by Anthony.

“My dear.” The dowager Marchioness of Westchester drifted over to her, fanning herself with a large ostrich-plumed fan. “You look lovely, but so pale. Are you quite all right?”

“I don’t feel well,” she confessed. Somehow, she could not bring herself to tell the lady a lie, even a polite one.

“I think you should go home,” her ladyship replied, patting her arm. “Go to the stables, and see what you can find.”

“Yes, of course.” She should go to Graveleon Head. The sisters wouldn’t miss her. Anthony certainly did not. Richard would come, but then again, she could try to charm him at home, once she felt more natural. If she still felt like trying to captivate him, which was becoming more unlikely by the moment.

She wasn’t being rude, for she had the dowager marchioness’ blessing. So she took her leave. As she pushed her way through the milling throng, her head throbbed but relief coursed through her. She was done with being a charity project. She was done with Anthony and Richard Carew. She was done with everything, including this corset and this ridiculous hair style.

She was done with being someone she wasn’t.

“How long has the mare been like this?” Anthony asked the duke’s head groom, Carson. “This is colic, I’m sure.”

“She just started about half an hour ago,” the groom replied. “When I saw her, well, I knew I had to get your opinion, your lordship. She’s one of His Grace’s favorite mares. I do apologize for taking you away from the festivities.”

“Don’t apologize about that,” Anthony ordered roughly. It was a bit of a relief to not have to dance with Rosamond. If he held her, he would propose to her in front of the entire ballroom. He had almost no self-control when it came to that woman.

He had his family’s support in the matter. Of course, they didn’t know the bit about Richard.

On the other hand, Richard didn’t know the bit about Richard.

There was nothing he could do now, though. The mare was in distress and Carson trusted his judgment to help heal her. He removed his jacket and cravat, and rolled up his sleeves. “We can’t let her lie down,” he informed the head groom. “We need to keep her walking. I’ll start the first bit. When I get tired, you can relieve me. Go have some supper. I’m sure the stable lads are being kept hopping with the carriages and coaches for the ball.”