How to Capture a Countess (Duchess Diaries 1) (32 page)

The duchess smiled. “Well said, Miss Balfour.” She offered her arm to Rose and they went to the head of the receiving line.

•  •  •

It was much worse than the duchess had predicted. Rose could only suppose that while people didn’t recognize her name, they were quite familiar with Sin’s. Though Lady Roxburghe’s presence at Rose’s side kept anyone from saying anything directly to her, it didn’t keep them from staring at her with disdain when her grace’s gaze was turned elsewhere.

Everywhere Rose looked, people seemed to be staring at her, talking behind their hands and fans, some of them giggling or sneering. It took all her strength to keep a smile on her face, but she managed, aided by the duchess’s support. When the hour had finally passed and Lady Charlotte arrived, the duchess took Rose’s arm and they entered the ballroom.

The room was draped in blue, purple, and rose
silk, all tied back with gold cords. Golden lights shone here and there, and candles danced in mirrored splendor on every table. “Oh, Lady Roxburghe, it’s
lovely.
”

Her grace looked around with an air of satisfaction. “It’s well enough, though there’s not much that’s wintry about it.”

“It looks like a starry night.”

The duchess smiled. “That’s exactly what we were trying to create.” She patted Rose’s hand. “Come. Let me introduce you to some of Roxburghe’s friends.”

Rose obediently walked with the duchess, pretending not to notice the looks that followed her.

A half hour later, the dancing began. Her grace smiled. “And now I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you dance. We had so few at our house party that dancing wasn’t feasible, but there are so many young people here.” She patted Rose’s hand. “You’ll have a partner before this dance even finishes.”

But again, the duchess’s enthusiasm went unrewarded. No one asked for Rose’s hand for that dance. Nor for the next dance. Nor the one after it. Nor the one after that.

Finally, a handsome, fashionable gentleman approached. The duchess coolly introduced him as Viscount MacRae, a neighbor. When he asked if her grace’s “lovely friend” would care to dance, the duchess hesitated, but Rose quickly stepped forward with a breathless “Thank you.” Perhaps now the duchess
could sit down and enjoy the ball instead of fretting over her.

It proved to be a country dance, which allowed for occasional conversation. They went down the line, talking of the weather, the number of candles used to light the castle, the beauty of a famed waterfall.

Lord MacRae said in a teasing tone, “Miss Balfour, I must say that you are quite the topic of conversation this evening.”

Her face heated. Perhaps if she feigned ignorance, he would take the hint and change the topic. “My, it’s certainly a full ball, isn’t it? There was a line of carriages all the way down the drive to the main road.”

His gaze narrowed, but to her relief, he smiled and began to converse on the size of the crowd, wondering if it would cause a press at supper.

She assured him that the duchess had everything set, despite the large crowd, and she had the pleasure of having a conventional conversation without feeling the weight of someone’s knowing gaze.

She was just beginning to relax when they danced by the terrace window and MacRae, tucking her hand in his, broke out of the dance line.

She frowned. “Lord MacRae, what are you doing? We shouldn’t leave the ballroom.”

“When the duchess has gone to such lengths in lighting the gardens?”

Rose had forgotten that. Now that she looked, several other couples were walking out to see the lighted
paths. She laughed at her overly cautious behavior. “You’re right. I would love to see them.”

They walked to the doors and he gallantly held one open. Refreshing air came sweeping in. “Perhaps you’d relish a cooling stroll under the moonlight?”

She looked over her shoulder, catching the hostile gaze of at least two young ladies whom she’d never before met. Suddenly, the coolness of the well-lit terrace held even more relief, and she nodded. “Yes, let’s take a walk.”

She walked through the door, Viscount MacRae following.

•  •  •

A few minutes later, MacDougal announced in a loud voice, “The Earl of Sinclair.”

Margaret frowned as Sin joined her. “Where have you been?”

“I had some unavoidable business to attend to.” He frowned, looking about the room. “Where’s Rose?”

Aunt Margaret gestured toward the dance floor. “She’s dancing with Viscount MacRae.”

Sin’s jaw tightened. “That bounder? How could you allow her to dance with him?”

Margaret gave him an exasperated glare. “Because he was the only one who asked her. People are talking far more than I expected.”

“Not more than I expected,” he said, his voice dark. “Munro has been wagging his tongue all over town. I shall have to speak to him again.”

“Please do. Poor Rose has been very calm in the face of it, but I can see that she’s hurt. And then, when no one would ask her to dance—”

“Where is she? The set has gone around twice and I don’t see them anywhere.”

Margaret’s brows snapped low. “I just saw them a few moments ago. Surely he didn’t—”

But Sin had already left. He’d walked only a few feet when he heard a frightened yell. The ballroom came to an abrupt standstill, while people stared at the terrace doors.

Sin ran as fast as he could, only vaguely aware that others followed. All he cared about was Rose.

•  •  •

Rose shook her hand and hopped on one foot. “Ow, ow, ow!” she said through clenched teeth.

Viscount MacRae, his hands over his nose, managed to say through a nose already swelling closed, “You bern’t even indured!”

“I am too injured! I bruised my knuckles on that rock you call a nose.”

“You shouldn’t hab hit me!”

“And you shouldn’t have tried to kiss me! That was very improper.”

Viscount MacRae looked sulkily at her, his hands still over his nose. “You knewb I was goinb to kib you.”

“No, I did not. Why do you think I jumped when you tried? You scared me to death!” She eyed him with disfavor. “You, sir, are no gentleman.”

“Why do you think I asked you oub on the terrace to begin wib?”

“Because you wished to see the lights in the garden, which is what you said, you idiot. I’ll never forgive you for— Oh, do stop dripping blood everywhere. You’re making a mess. Here.” She pulled a kerchief from her pocket and held it out to him.

“I cannob let go ob my nobe or it bill bleed more.” He sat heavily upon the edge of the fountain. “You’ll hab to hold it ub while I releab it.”

“
I
have to hold it up— Oh, you really are a pain.” She bent down and tried to peer under his hands. “Blast it, I can barely see in this light.” She dropped to her knees. “Lift up a bit.”

He half stood, half crouched.

“When I count to three, lift your hands and I’ll press the kerchief to your nose.”

“Dank yew,” he said meekly.

“You’re welcome. Now—One. Two. Thr—”

Sin burst into the clearing, his furious eyes seeing only two things: Rose was on her knees, and the viscount seemed to tower over her.

He stalked up to MacRae, grabbed the bounder by the lapel, and drew back to strike the man.

Rose grabbed his fist. “Sin, no! What are you doing?”

“I heard you yell, and now I’m going to send this despicable blackguard to hell!”

“You can’t hit him! Just
look
at him.”

Sin forced his gaze to the viscount. The man’s hands were tightly covered over his nose.

“You can cover your nose all you want,” Sin ground out, “but I’m going to break it.”

“Too late,” Rose said in a chilly voice. “I already did it.”

Sin blinked. For the first time, he noticed the blood on the viscount’s chin and cravat. “Oh.” Sin set the viscount back on his feet and turned to Rose. “But . . . I heard you yell.”

“No, you heard Viscount MacRae yell.”

Sin tried to remember and realized that it had been a man’s yell, but in his concern for Rose, he hadn’t stopped to question it.

Suddenly, he became aware that they had an audience. A quick glance confirmed the worst. Every pathway was filled with curious faces.

He scowled and turned to Rose. “What in hell were you thinking, coming outside?”

He didn’t mean to snap at her, but he’d been trying to rescue her and it seemed that all he’d done was make things worse by causing yet a bigger scene.

“I came outside because it was hot inside. The garden is well lit and there were a lot of people about. But then as we walked, everyone disappeared and . . . ”

A murmur from someone in the crowd made Rose stiffen, and suddenly she was aware of all the eyes upon them.

Sin saw her face go pale. He stepped forward, “Rose, don’t worr—”

She whirled on him, her eyes blazing. “That’s
it.
I tried to make things right. I tried to put up a brave front so that my sisters could have a decent chance, but—” A sob broke her voice and she turned, ready to back out of his life.

Sin caught her and lifted her into his arms.

She fought, as furious as a cat in a wet bag. “Let me down!”

“No. You’re going to listen to me.” But she wouldn’t stop struggling. Frustrated, he looked around, and then smiled. He strode to the fountain, stepped over the edge, and strode to the middle, the water up to his thighs.

She grabbed her skirts, trying to keep them out of the water. “What are you
doing
?”

“Making sure you will at least listen to what I have to say.”

“Put me down this instant!”

“No. You’ll get wet.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want to hear anything from anyone!”

“If you won’t listen to me here, you’ll listen to me at your home, or in the stables when you go out for a ride, or somewhere else. If I have to chase you from one end of this earth to the other, I will.”

Rose’s gaze locked on his eyes. He was deadly serious. It showed in the steady line of his jaw, in the way he stood, feet planted in the fountain.

She cast a glance around and realized that the crowd had grown. At least fifty people were crowded about the fountain, listening to every word.

Her chest tightened and she cleared her throat. “Sin, just . . . put me down.” Her voice broke and she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “I just want to leave.”

Sin leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I can’t let you go, Rose. I’ve tried and it kills me.”

She stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Losing someone you love does that to you.” He set her on the marble pedestal under the statue.

“Sin, what are you—”

He dropped to one knee and looked up at her. “Rose Balfour, will you do me the very,
very
great honor of taking my hand in marriage?”

Rose swiped at her eyes, unable to believe her own ears. “Did you just say . . . that you love me?”

He reached up and took her hand between his. “Rose Balfour, you are the most frustrating, most argumentative woman I’ve ever—”

“This isn’t sounding a bit romantic.”

A smile lit his eyes. “Let me finish. Rose Balfour, you are the most frustrating, most argumentative woman I’ve ever met,
and
the most cherished and loved of all women ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you,
a naïve girl of sixteen, and I’ve been running away ever since. I finally ran right into your arms, and I’m never leaving.”

“Never?”

“You can try to make me, but of course you won’t succeed.”

“He’s stubborn,” came the duchess’s voice. “Like a mule. So you’d best save us all time and trouble and just say yes.”

Rose had to laugh. “Yes, Sin, I will marry you.”

Sin’s smile made her think of a sunrise. He stood, swooped her up, and kissed her thoroughly.

Rose kissed him back with equal passion. Her gown was trailing in the water, her shoes ruined, but she didn’t care. She was finally where she belonged: in Sin’s strong arms.

As the crowd applauded, Margaret wiped a tear from her eye. “Charlotte, I hope they name their first daughter after me. I deserve it after all I’ve been through.”

Several weeks later, Margaret watched as a carriage decorated with flowers pulled away from Floors Castle. Rose leaned out, a garland in her hair, and waved to the small group gathered under the portico to see them off.

Margaret’s heart swelled with pride as Sin leaned out the window beside his new bride. He sent Margaret a wink and a smile of pure happiness that quite made her eyes tear up. Then he slipped an arm about Rose and gently drew her back into the carriage.

The curtains on the carriage closed.

“Won’t they get hot with the curtains closed?” Rose’s sister Lily asked their father.

Sir Balfour, mopping his eyes with his handkerchief, appeared flustered as he tried to come up with an innocuous explanation.

“I’m sure the other curtain is open,” Margaret said, which seemed to satisfy Lily.

MacDougal announced from the top step that a light luncheon had been placed upon the terrace,
and the small crowd began to meander in that direction.

Margaret stayed to watch the coach disappear down the drive, her spirits leaving with it. After the ball, the last few weeks had been a flurry of preparations for the wedding. And now that it was over, she felt oddly listless.

Charlotte threaded her arm through Margaret’s. “I’ll never forget how he looked at her in that fountain.”

Margaret managed a smile. “He is head over heels, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and just didn’t know it. It’s a good thing you showed him.” Charlotte pursed her lips. “Forgive me for saying this, but something has been bothering me about the entire situation.”

“Oh? What’s that, my dear?”

“Miss Isobel Stewart. Why was
she
in that hallway outside Rose’s bedchamber that night? Her bedchamber wasn’t even on that floor. And yet there she was, in her dressing gown and slippers. If I didn’t know better, I’d have said that she was the one involved in a tryst.”

“Yes, those details did get overlooked, didn’t they?”