Chapter Sixteen #3
Oh. Oh. The realization washed over me, my cheeks aflame.
“Now your face has gone red, too,” Anna exclaimed, and shoved the backs of her knuckles to my forehead. “Do you have a fever?”
Blushing harder, I swatted her away. “No, goodness, Anna. I’m just hot from rushing around. Truly, I am fine, I promise you.”
My lips are red only from kissing and my cheeks are red from remembering how wickedly delicious it was.
That explanation would not go over well.
“Quickly, let’s slip downstairs before Zia arrives and my subterfuge is discovered,” I said, giving myself another quick glimpse in the mirror before sweeping from the room.
I knew I’d have to explain something to the girls, but at least it wouldn’t be to my mother.
Ela and Zia would understand. They’d told a few tall tales themselves over the years.
Mama, categorically, would not. I ran down the servants’ staircase again to one of the front salons, which was adjacent to the foyer.
From there, I would see the minute Zia and Rafi arrived.
Luckily, I had to wait only about fifteen minutes before I saw Zia’s distinct head of bronze-brown spirals.
Dressed in a gorgeous gold gown that complemented her complexion, she was accompanied by her doting fiancé.
My skin heated as I wondered dreamily if Tarik and I would look the same—so in love and happy—and draw the envy of others.
Was he already inside? I couldn’t wait for our dance.
As Zia approached, she shot me a narrow-eyed stare.
Clearly, she had received what I was sure had become a rather cryptic message from Sally—who had been waiting for her outside—that I was to join them.
I greeted Rafi with a grin as he shook his head with a resigned look and raised brows.
He was very used to his own fiancée’s penchant for mischief, so it was a relief that he remained silent.
“You will explain later,” Zia told me under her breath in no uncertain terms.
I nodded. “I will, don’t worry.”
As we strolled into the ballroom, the majordomo announced our names, and I immediately felt my mother’s stare crash into me from across the room where she was in conversation with my aunt. Following Zia and Rafi, I kept my face serene, with my chin high and a placid smile on my lips.
Nonetheless, I was instantly accosted by my mother at the bottom of the stairs and steered off to the side.
We still stood in sight of many guests, but she had an uncanny ability to speak without moving her lips, especially if one was getting chastised.
Ansel and I had often joked that she would have been a gifted ventriloquist in another lifetime.
“Rosalin!” she hissed. “What is the meaning of—?”
But I was saved from having to answer as my father strolled to his duchess’s side, a small smile on his handsome face. “Papa! You’re back!”
“Hullo, my girl. You’re looking exceptionally radiant this evening.
” A glance that missed nothing panned over me, and I gulped, folding my still-bruised lips between my teeth.
“I’ve received reports from my steward that you have finally been receptive to a gentleman’s suit.
An influential young Frenchman from a noble family is my understanding? ”
I cringed inwardly at that last bit, considering my liberal embellishment of Tarik’s lineage.
Had Blake been the one to inform him of the last bit?
It also wouldn’t surprise me that my father’s staff had been keeping an eye on my progress during the season in his absence.
Thank goodness I’d been extra vigilant with my second identity.
“Yes, Papa. I intend to introduce him to you this evening.”
“Now is as good a time as any,” he said. “Let’s meet whoever put that besotted look on my daughter’s face, shall we?”
A blush lit my cheeks. “Of course, Papa.”
My mother opened her mouth to argue, but buoyed by my father’s approval, I retreated to find Tarik.
Both Ela and Zia were waiting for me a handful of steps away, though I couldn’t stop to talk to them.
Ignoring the justified outrage on both their faces when I skated past, I shot them an apologetic glance and continued my hurried tour of the ballroom, searching for one person. But Tarik wasn’t anywhere to be found.
I spotted my lady’s maid near the open doors to the terrace.
“Anna, have you seen—?” I didn’t have to finish before she pointed outside. Her ashen expression said it all…that something was dire. My heart palpitated when I finally saw Tarik, and then dropped when I registered the four boys he stood with.
Oh no.
Blake…and Will with the bloody twins.
Panicked, I hastened toward them through the terrace doors, hoping to deter the unavoidable collision of my two worlds, but from their perplexed expressions and the stricken look on Tarik’s face, I gathered I was much too late.
Even the darkened, overcast sky threatening to open up portended something horrible.
“A French count’s nephew, you say?” Will blurted. “Since when?”
“But weren’t you a subsizar at Trinity?” Klaus demanded, staring at Blake, who must have attempted to perform introductions, not knowing the Trinity boys would have already known each other.
“And Roz’s tutor,” Kristof added.
Shit, shit, shit.
“Yes, where’s Lord Ansel?” Tarik said, his skin flushing. “He can explain.”
Blake frowned as his auburn brows shot up. “Ansel’s in Greece, mate. He’s been gone since April.”
“No, he’s here. He’s at Trinity.” Tarik’s expression was slightly wild with the panic I was already feeling, though for different reasons. “There’s Lady Rosalin, his cousin, ask her. She knows.”
Those blue eyes collided with mine, the relief in them swiftly followed by confusion at my complete lack of surprise after Blake’s revelation and the immense culpability I could not hide for the life of me. I gulped hard, blood rushing in my ears as my friends stared.
Blake turned. “Roz?”
The nickname was the match to unlit tinder. I flinched.
Jaw slackening, Tarik went pale, and I could see the exact moment my house of cards started to topple. “Roz?” he echoed softly.
“Wait,” I begged, hand reaching out even as he reared away, horror bleeding over his features. “I can explain…”