How to Capture a Countess (Duchess Diaries 1) (31 page)

He blinked. “Do you think you can?”

“I can try.” Aunt Margaret set Meenie on the floor,
the other dogs immediately standing and stretching. “And while I’m doing my part, you be sure to do yours.” She swept to the door, the pugs bounding after her. “I expect you to be on your best, most princely behavior. More to the point, I expect you to leave your pride at the door and tell that girl what you think about her, and to do it with prettier words than ‘must’ and ‘have to.’ ” She stopped and looked back at him. “It’s time we were done with this nonsense. Six years is long enough.”

Sin couldn’t help but gape. “You think I’ve been in love with her for six years?”

“It certainly appears that way to me.” Her gaze narrowed. “So go get some rest, and for the love of God, shave that blasted face of yours. It’s a disgrace.”

He rubbed his chin, the scruff making a raspy sound, and had to laugh. “You always make me feel like I’m five years old.”

“That’s about the age you’ve been acting, tossing that poor gel into a river, and trying to race her over hill and dale, leaving her adrift in a punt, and trying to get her shot with an arrow—”

“
I
was the one who got shot.”

“I’m only surprised you didn’t dip her hair into an inkwell. The time has come for you to grow up, my dear, painful as it may be.”

“I’m ready,” he replied, surprised that her speech didn’t make him angry.

“So are we. Your mother, in particular, will be glad
to know that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get my beauty rest. Roxburghe returns soon, and I’ve some scheming to do if we wish to see Miss Balfour gracing our ball in two days.”

“I will owe you for this, Aunt Margaret.”

“Repay me by naming your first daughter after me. I’ve never wished to have a namesake, but it will irritate your mother, so I’m certain to enjoy it.” She sent him a wink. “Get to bed, you scamp. I’ll see you at the ball in two days’ time. Be there by eight.”

For the first time in two days, Sin smiled.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
I find that being a godmother is quite an amusing, though exhausting, hobby. And I must say that I seem to have quite a knack for it.

“Rose, that’s enough.”

Surprised at the irritation in Dahlia’s voice, Rose looked up from her sewing. The two sisters were working on a pile of darning in the former nursery since the small room could be warmed with very little coal.

“That’s enough what?” Rose asked.

“Enough of this—” and she gave a long, mournful sigh to illustrate.

Rose’s face heated. “I’m sorry if I was sighing and it bothered you. I didn’t hear myself.”

Dahlia looked concerned. “We’ve all been hearing it since you returned from Floors. Rose, what happened?
Please
tell me!”

“I’ve already told you everything.”

“No, you haven’t. Lily and I are worried. Even
Papa has noticed a difference, and he never notices anything.”

“I’m just tired. All of the dinners and punting and horseback riding and archery contests and midnight rides . . . ”
All of it with Sin.

She bent her head over her work so Dahlia wouldn’t see her tears.

Dahlia sighed. “There you go again.”

A shout came from below, and after sharing a startled glance, Dahlia and Rose hurried to open the casement window.

Lily stood in the courtyard below, jumping up and down in excitement.

Dahlia leaned out the window. “What is it?”

Lily looked up. “It’s a trunk! Right here, beside the door. Someone must have brought it while I was gone!”

Rose poked her head out beside Dahlia’s. “Is there a note on it?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s far larger than Father’s usual flower samples. Oh, wait. There is a note: I’d just missed it.” Lily removed a small envelope that was attached to one handle by a string. She scanned the envelope and looked up, surprised. “Rose, it’s for you!”

Dahlia turned wide eyes in Rose’s direction. “What is it?”

“How would I know? I didn’t send it to myself.”

Dahlia leaned out. “Lily, we’ll meet you in the sitting
room. Fetch one of the stable boys and have him carry the trunk inside.”

“I’m not waiting for a stable boy. Come down and we’ll carry it ourselves.”

Dahlia and Rose hurried downstairs.

Moments later, panting and puffing, they all stood in the sitting room staring down at the trunk.

Dahlia gave a little hop. “Rose, open the trunk!”

“I don’t have the key!”

Lily dangled a small golden key before her. “It was on the string with the envelope.”

Rose stooped and tried the key in the lock. Who would have sent her something? “Blast it, I can’t get this key to—”

“Oh, let me.” Lily stooped beside Rose and began to wiggle the key in the lock.

Rose stood and straightened her gown.

With a triumphant cry, Lily turned the key and the latch fell open. Dahlia pushed past Rose as Lily raised the lid.

Rose lifted on her tiptoes, trying to see over Dahlia’s head. “What is it? What’s in the trunk?”

Lily lifted a startled face to Rose. “It’s a
gown
! Oh, Rose, you have to see this!”

“I would, except Dahlia’s head’s in the way.”

“Oh dear. I’m sorry.” Dahlia moved out of the way and Lily held up a shimmery confection of a gown that made Rose gasp.

A celestial blue satin slip trimmed in a heavy band
of white lace peeked from beneath a long polonaise robe of white gossamer net. Short full sleeves set off the neckline, while blue satin knotted beading decorated each cuff and banded about the high waist to tie under the bosom.

“It must have been made by a French modiste,” Lily said in awe as she gently stroked the silk. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Me, neither.” Rose’s curiosity was growing by the second. “Was there no marking on the trunk as to who sent it?”

“No. And the letter only had your name, nothing else,” Lily said.

“Rose!” Dahlia’s voice was hushed with reverence. She held up a pair of the most beautiful shoes Rose had ever seen. They were of delicate kid leather painted with a dull gold varnish so that they seemed almost made of glass.

Rose reached for the shoes, but Dahlia pointed into the trunk. “What’s that under the tissue paper in the corner?”

Rose peered inside and saw a Grecian scarf of dull gold silk that matched the shoes and offset the blue-and-white gown to perfection. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

“And gloves!” Lily dove into the tissue paper and pulled out a pair of elbow-length white gloves of French kid. “Rose, I know just how you should wear your hair! You should put it up in the Eastern style and blend in a few flowers and—”

Rose gave a breathless laugh. “Lily, please, all of this cannot be for me. There must be some mistake. There must be a note in here. Help me look through this tissue paper.”

“Here it is!” Dahlia held a missive sealed with a seal that Rose instantly knew.

Lily watched as Rose took the missive from Dahlia. “You know who sent it?”

“It’s from the Duchess of Roxburghe.”

Dahlia crowed, “Aren’t you glad you attended her house party now?”

“You must read the note and see why she sent you such a lovely gown,” Lily said, ignoring Dahlia’s outburst. “Hurry! I’m dying to know what she says.”

Rose opened the missive and turned toward the window to read it.

My dear Miss Balfour,

I write this note with a heavy heart. You were not treated well in my house and it pains me greatly. I’m an old woman, not well at all, and you would do me a great favor by accepting this small token of my affection and attending my ball tomorrow evening.

My nephew’s rash actions may have started some gossip that may now be spreading. But as you know from the unfortunate incident six years ago, running away is the worst way to deal with gossip. Your presence at my ball, along with my visibly warm welcome, will squash any rumors, as
no one would believe that I’d welcome one of my nephew’s flirts into my home. Difficult as it may be, you owe it to your sisters to face down the rumor-mongers with a smile upon your face.

There is only one other reason I can think of that might keep you away from my ball—concern that A Certain Person might be present. Allow me to plainly state that Sinclair will not be at my ball. He and I had quite a row upon your leaving, and I vow upon my aunt Agatha’s grave that he will not be present.

I hope to see you tomorrow. I will send a coach for you at five.

Sincerely,

Margaret, Duchess of Roxburghe

Rose bit her lip and reread the letter. Sin had been so bitter when she’d last seen him, so angry with her for wanting more of him than he had to give. She blinked, trying to stanch the tears before they came.

Lily murmured softly and a kerchief was pressed into Rose’s hand. She wiped her tears. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to turn into a watering pot, but I didn’t expect to see— Lily! Dahlia! You
wretches
!” Her sisters had their heads together over the duchess’s letter.

Lily, her lips moving as she silently read, held up a hand as if demanding silence.

“Dahlia,” Rose said. “Stop reading at once and—”

“Who is Sinclair?” Dahlia asked.

Lily’s eyes were wide. “Rose, it’s not the earl from—?”

Rose snatched the note back. “I didn’t give you permission to read that.”

“Never mind that,” Lily said impatiently. “Tell us about Sinclair.”

Dahlia, clutching the beautiful shoes, sat on the edge of the settee. “Yes, please tell us.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

Dahlia gave an inelegant snort. “There’s a lot to say, beginning with why you left there so abruptly.”

Rose sighed. “There’s not much to tell. Lord Sinclair and I met at his grandmother’s, and I discovered that he was still incensed at my behavior all those years ago. In retaliation he was going to . . . ”

“Going to what?” Lily demanded.

“He said he was going to seduce me.”

Dahlia leaned forward. “Rose! Did he
succeed
?”

“Of course not.” The more she thought about it, the less sure she was about who had seduced whom. “The trouble is that I started to care for him. Much more than he cared for me.” Her misery caught her by the throat. “I worried I might make even more of a fool of myself than I had, and so . . . I left.”

Dahlia nodded, but Lily gave her skeptical look.

Rose looked at the gown and sighed. “Which is why I must give these back.”

Dahlia hugged the shoes. “No!”

“Rose, you’re going.” Lily stood and began collecting
the items from the trunk. “When that carriage arrives, you will be wearing these gifts. You can’t let the duchess down; this is her way of apologizing. How can you refuse her that?” Lily shrugged. “Besides, if this Lord Sinclair isn’t going to be there, what excuse can you have not to attend?” Lily locked her gaze with Rose. “Or is there more you’re not telling us?”

Rose managed to stifle a grimace. “Of course not.” Her gaze fell on the letter, and she reread the lines about facing down the rumors.
I must do this for Dahlia and Lily. They will be the ones who will be the most hurt by my errors.

She had no choice. “I’ll go.”

Dahlia gave an excited hop. “I’ll fetch pen and paper, and we’ll send a note to the duchess right now!” She was gone in a trice.

Lily patted Rose’s hand. “You’re going to be glad you went. Wait and see.”

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
Just as I’d feared, it’s much too warm for ice sculptures. Fortunately, Charlotte and I found an acceptable decorating alternative . . .

The carriage pulled up to Floors Castle. Clad in the beautiful gown, roses threaded through her hair, Rose had avoided looking out the window for fear of being struck with memories. Now, as she took the footman’s hand and stepped out, she gasped.

The castle blazed with light. Candles had been placed in every single window, surrounded with mirrors that multiplied their flames.

MacDougal stood by the door. He smiled on seeing her awed expression. “Ye should see the ballroom and gardens, miss. Her grace outdid herself, she did.”

“I can’t wait,” she replied seriously. The foyer had been transformed into a hothouse, rows and rows of
exotic flowers upon every surface, their rich scent filling the air. More candles had been added, too, which made it seem as if they were in a magical garden.

MacDougal escorted her to a place near the stairs that had been set up for a receiving line. “If ye’ll wait here, miss, her grace is on her way down. She was jus’ puttin’ the dogs away. We dinna want the wee things trampled by a carriage.”

“Thank you, MacDougal.”

“There you are, Miss Balfour!” The duchess, dressed in a resplendent gown of red silk that clashed with her wig, sailed down the stairs. “Ah, my dear, that gown looks beautiful on you!”

“Thank you. It was too generous of you.”

“Nonsense. I am glad you came. Roxburghe sent word that he won’t arrive until eleven, so I’m glad to have you with me.”

“I’m very happy to be here.”

“Good. We two have work to do tonight. Charlotte will relieve us in the receiving line in an hour, after most of the guests are here. After that, all you must do is mingle and appear to be enjoying yourself. Are you ready?”

“I think so.”

“Not everyone knows about what happened. The rumor is a new one and no one knows you, which is good. Had you been a personage of note, people would have talked more. There is more of a curiosity about you. All we have to do is show the world that
you are a lady of refinement, and the rumor will die a quick death.”

Rose took a steadying breath. Some people would stare, or whisper, or laugh, but she would ignore them. The duchess was right; if not addressed, the rumors would only grow.

Outside, a carriage rolled up, followed by another and then another.

Rose lifted her chin. “Your grace, let’s grab this lion by the mane and ride it to perdition.”