But what did she really know about making a match? She had only ever attended the crushes to swipe a few jewels off the necks and wrists of unsuspecting debutantes. And maybe a few fobs and pocket watches from the dandified gentlemen. The task was ridiculously easy, considering the cramped rooms were stuffed wall to wall with swooning ladies and prowling gentlemen and Rose’s touch was soft as air.
“But you are not even wearing your jewelry!” The youngest sister, Kate, moved to Elizabeth’s back and began to drape a glittering diamond around Elizabeth’s neck.
That’s when Rose realized Elizabeth was one of those debutantes that she would have all too readily stolen from and never thought twice about. To Rose, they were all the same: overly privileged ladies who had never known a day of strife in their entire lives. And although that was most likely also true for Elizabeth, seeing her there, nervously preparing for her first season among her mother and sisters, caused a heavy remorse to settle in her chest.
“Daphney!” A surprised voice pierced through Rose. “What are you doing just standing out there? Come in!” Kate said in that exuberant way that Rose was beginning to realize was a constant for the young lady.
But Rose did not want to go in that room. She would likely feel as comfortable in that room full of gabbing women as a cat in an alley full of hungry dogs.
Daphney, however, would have been all too eager to enjoy a chat with her future mother and sisters-in-law. Summoning her courage as well as her most polite smile, Rose inched into the room. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.” She knit her brows together with false humiliation. “I got a little turned around and stumbled past your door trying to locate my room.”
“Nonsense,” said Kate walking to Rose’s side to pull her into the gaggle of women. “You are not intruding in the least. We were only trying to convince my prudish sister that the color of her dress is not nearly as brazen as she believes.”
“Yes, dear, please join us and share your opinion!” The duchess’s voice felt like a siren call. Something wonderful that Rose couldn’t—and didn’t want to—refuse. How many times during her twenty-three years of life had Rose wondered about the sound of her own mother’s voice? Was Mama’s tone high or low? Was it soft like silk brushing against the ears or did it have a hint of rasp?
Rose forced a small smile, hoping that her pain was not evident. She quickly scanned the room and all who were there. The duchess sat in a chair near the fireplace. She was situated with her weight on her right hip, ankles crossed, elbow resting on the arm of the chair with her chin resting lightly on the tops of her knuckles. She somehow managed to look regal and relaxed at the same time.
Kate perched on the bed. Excited energy beamed from her smile. Elizabeth faced Rose, clearly happy to have her share in such an intimate moment. Lady Hatley stood beside the window, gazing out with a worn and tired expression. With a delicate hand, she tenderly caressed the small bump of her belly. The loss Carver had spoken about hung around her like a heavy blanket. Her eyes flicked to Rose’s but her expression did not lighten. In fact, it only grew more concerned.
It would appear that Rose and Carver’s pretend betrothal was causing the opposite of the desired result for Lady Hatley. Rose would just have to try harder to make the lady feel at ease. It was important to Carver that his sister not come under any stress due to their relationship. And Rose was being paid to keep in mind what was important to Carver and that was the only reason she would throw herself wholeheartedly into relieving his sister’s anxiety. The only reason.
Rose turned her attention to Elizabeth. “What do you feel is wrong with the gown?”
Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped the slightest bit. “It is too…green.” She turned back to the mirror, placed her hand on her middle, and stood up taller. “I feel like it makes me look like a…” Everyone leaned a little closer in anticipation of what term Elizabeth would use to finish that statement. “Child. I hope to be viewed as mature and refined, not like a loud trifling bit of shrubbery.”
“Wait,” said Kate, eyes twinkling. “Are you a child or a shrub?”
“Both. I’m a young shrub.”
Everyone chuckled but Rose stifled her laugh and instead allowed a soft smile. She didn’t want to embarrass the girl. “Well, for what it is worth, I think the color is lovely and unobtrusive. It brings out your eyes brilliantly, which, if I am not mistaken, is what a lady secretly hopes a gentleman will take note of.”
Rose would have never known that to be true until Carver had assessed her own eyes. She had never thought hers to be anything special. But the way he had looked into them…described them thoughtfully as if it were important to get the likeness exactly right—sent a thrill up her spine.
Kate giggled like a girl and even Mary’s cheeks were touched with a light blush.
“Has Carver taken note of your eyes, Miss Bellows?” asked Kate in a dreamy tone as if seeing into Rose’s very thoughts. There was no way she would admit them. It was too stupid.
“Oh hush, Kate!” the duchess reprimanded in her soft way. “Daphney, you needn’t tell us.” But then, a mischievous smile pulled at the sides of the woman’s mouth before she utterly betrayed Rose. “Although…we very much wish you would.”
“Oh yes, do tell!” Kate clapped excitedly as Elizabeth joined in the persuasion.
Rose was the very center of attention, and it appeared that there was simply nothing to be done but give the expectant women what they wanted. Perhaps telling them would serve to alleviate some of Lady Hatley’s stress. Rose took a fortifying breath. She could do it. She could confide in the ladies this much for the sake of the ruse. “Well, at the risk of being in your brother’s black books, I will tell you all that Carver has taken a rather fond notice of my particular eye color.” She swallowed. “He says they resemble a glass of…fine brandy.” Rose had to bite her cheeks to keep from smiling from how silly she felt admitting Carver’s flirtatious comment. But oddly enough, admitting something personal felt better than she had expected. Her heart lifted a little.
She tried but couldn’t keep from smiling as each of the ladies erupted in various noises of delight and squeals. Kate flung herself dramatically onto the bed with her hand pressed to her heart. Even Mary pressed her lips together to keep from smiling too big. The duchess simply chuckled with contented delight. The same bubbles of laughter Rose had felt in the meadow returned, and she was taken over by them. They all sounded ridiculous. And it was wonderful.
For the first time in her life, Rose stood amongst a group of women laughing—earnestly. She was not trying to steal anything or squeeze any money from them. She was not bringing them into her confidence so she could find out which gentlemen in the ballroom possessed the largest wealth. She was simply giving in to a natural joy from telling the truth. It was freeing.
In the midst of their giggles, a male voice broke over the room. Strong and low. “And just what bit of gossip has you, ladies, splitting your seams this time?”
Carver walked fully into the room, a skeptical smile on his mouth before his eyes took note of Rose for the first time and his face molded into an unreadable expression. Was he upset to find her there among his sisters and mother? Did he want her to keep her distance during the week? They really should have discussed these things.
Rose attempted to smooth the lines of his forehead with her words. “I stupidly
got lost on my way back to my bedchamber after our ride. I found Elizabeth’s room in the process.”
“And we are so happy that she did!” Kate sprung off the bed. “Or else Elizabeth would never have known that she wished to have gentlemen take fond notice of her eyes!” said Kate, skipping circles around Elizabeth and dancing a ribbon across her blushing face.
Carver’s eyes narrowed as a teasing smile pulled over his mouth. “What’s this, Lizzie? Tell me now who this foolish young buck is so that I can strike the fear of God in him.”