Elizabeth reached up and began adjusting a few of the pins in Rose’s hair. An odd sense of sisterly affection flooded Rose’s heart. It was a feeling that she hadn’t realized she had been missing out on. “I was supposed to wear it for my come out this season in town. But I like it much better on you,” said Elizabeth. “And before you open your mouth to protest again, just know that the gold washed me out in the very worst way so really you’re doing me a favor by taking it off of my hands.” The girl smiled mischievously.
Rose ought to have given it back. But the truth was, she really did like the dress and there was no time left to change before the ball. Rose’s stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. Soon she would walk into the doors of the very first ball where she would truly be welcome. And it would be especially memorable because she had decided to accept Carver's proposal.
After tossing and turning in her bed the entire night before, Rose had decided she was being unfair to Carver, to expect him to completely open up to her over the course of one week. To be honest, she couldn’t even believe she had opened up to him as much as she had. Even the very idea that the man would propose to her after only a single week of acquaintance was ridiculous. She couldn’t expect too much ridiculousness at one time.
She felt lighter now that she had made her decision. So light she felt as if she could fly. Carver loved her, she loved him, and that was enough. They would figure out the rest as they went along.
The ball was a disaster. Nothing so far that evening had gone as she’d hoped. Dinner before the ball had not been the informal relaxed meal she had grown accustomed to enjoying with Carver’s family. Rather, with all of the duke’s elite friends and their esteemed wives packed around the table it had more closely resembled a session in the House of Lords. She and Oliver seemed to be the only people at the table who did not have a title before their name.
Rose would not have minded had she been at Carver’s side. But as it was, the duchess had followed strict seating protocols and Rose found herself nearly at the bottom of the table and at least seven place settings away from the man she loved. The elderly yet exuberant vicar seated to her right had held her in such confined conversation for nearly the entire dinner that Rose had barely been able to even look in Carver’s direction. And the baron seated at her left was so large that she could not have seen around the man had she even wished to sneak a glance at Carver.
After dinner, things had only gotten worse. The baron practically snatched her arm and begged to escort her into the ballroom, leaving her little room to actually refuse him. Carver was then left to escort the obnoxiously beautiful and doting Lady Sophia—who had fluttered her lashes at Carver all evening—into the ballroom. From there, Rose had been swept around the ballroom and introduced to nearly every person she would never care about in a million years instead of having any one-on-one time with the man she really wanted to see.
The ballroom was packed full of dapper gentleman and beautifully dressed ladies, but Carver was no where to be found. For the most part, Rose had been able to keep track of him above the heads of the rest of the guests. Where had he gone? Rose knew he had been trying to make his way to her the entire night. The one time they had made eye contact, he had smiled apologetically and gestured toward a spot in the room for them to meet, only for him to be intercepted and accosted by yet another matron with too many feathers waving obnoxiously in her hair.
But even when she wasn’t looking at him she could feel the warmth of his gaze on her. It made her feel grounded and secure despite the fact that he was not beside her. Now, she had lost him and felt as if she were being tossed around in the ocean rather than standing against the wall of a crowded ballroom.
Rose felt stuck between two worlds, not truly belonging in either one. She had left the world of stealing and conning behind her, and seemingly along with that old life, her confidence. She knew without a doubt that she could slip the diamond bracelet off of the wrist of that slightly tipsy woman standing in front of her. She could do it in three seconds flat without anyone suspecting a thing. And the boisterous rake in the corner would be all to easy to convince out the emerald pin glittering from the center of his cravat. But no, she didn’t want to do those things anymore.
But neither was she ready to be herself in such a place. She didn’t even know how. The only man she had ever been truly herself in front of was absent. And the more time she spent away from him in that ballroom, the more she began to doubt again her decision to abandon her old life. She felt weary from all of the doubting. If only she could talk to Carver, hear his reassuring voice.
Rose’s eyes darted around the room, hoping to find those striking grey eyes looking back at her. Instead, across the room, she found the piercing glare of Miss Gardener’s haughty smirk. The odd, smug look in Miss Gardener’s eyes was enough to make Rose look down at the glass of lemonade she was holding and contemplate the probability that the woman had spat in it. She set the lemonade down and decided to get some air.
She headed for the room the duchess had set aside as a ladies’ retiring room, but decided to keep walking and slipped instead into an empty hallway. It was dark, but she didn’t mind. She pressed her back to the wall and her hands to her cheeks in attempt to cool her body. The lights and sounds of the ball trickled into the hallway, not fully reaching her. Tears formed at the backs of her eyes as she thought about the disappointment she felt from the night.
She closed her eyes and let the salty tears drip down her cheeks and over her lips. She was stupid to have even considered a life with Carver. She couldn’t even manage spending an hour in a ballroom without him.
“Crying at a ball is strictly forbidden.” The husky rumble of Carver’s voice washed over Rose like a sea of comfort. He was there. And all of her doubts vanished beneath his words.
“Carver,” she whispered and opened her eyes.
He stepped close to her, his cool masculine scent wrapping around her as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “My love,” he leaned in and whispered over her lips. Rose placed her hands on his chest and relished the feel of his heart pounding against her hand. “I’ve been trying to get to you all night.” His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, locking her in for what she hoped could be forever.
She smiled and breathed in his nearness. “You found me.”
Rose fidgeted with the gold buttons of his dark blue evening jacket before looking up to meet his impassioned gaze. Her heart raced as he bent his head forward. And then finally, his lips met hers with such an aching tenderness that she feared her legs would give out beneath her. Everything felt right. Whole. Secure. She pushed her hands up over his strong shoulders and clasped them behind his neck, trying to memorize how his lips felt pressing into hers, never wanting the kiss to end. But the sound of a man clearing his throat ended it.
Carver broke away from her and squinted into the dark. “Robert,” said Carver, clearly as perturbed by the interruption as she was. The music and light was spilling out the ballroom and illuminating over Robert’s amused expression. “Well, Kensworth. It’s a dashed good thing you’re going to marry that girl or else I would be forced to call you out for a kiss like that.”
“Go away, Robert.”
“Not a chance, young blood.” It was evident that the married earl was enjoying his power over Carver. Rose was glad she had the cover of darkness to hide her blush. “Her Grace is requesting your presence and I think now is the perfect time to hand you over to her,” said Lord Hatley.
“I don’t think I need to remind you, Robert, of all the times I found you stealing a ki
ss from my sister during your courtship and betrothal.” Carver looked every bit the dashing gentleman in his tight fitting jacket, dove pantaloons, and imposing physique. But he sounded like a guilty boy.
Robert smirked. “You get one minute, Kensworth. After that, I come looking for you.” He turned to walk back into the ballroom but called back, “And your clock started thirty seconds ago.”
Rose pressed her lips together. That was hardly enough time to declare her love—but she would try.
But she couldn’t because in the next moment, Caver was kissing her again. This time with enough fervency to wipe every single thought from her mind. With a groan he broke away and took a step back. “If I don’t go he really will come looking for me. And likely bring my father for assistance,” said Carver, his mouth curving into an impish grin.
“Go,” she said, with her own grin. Rose didn’t feel worried about not being able to find him in the ballroom again. Everything was going to be okay. She just knew it.
He reached out and ran his thumb across her cheek, looking reluctant to leave. “No more tears?”
She leaned her face into his hand and kissed his wrist. “No more tears.”