Seven
Rose entered the Milsomes’ house with her head held high and a quite natural smile on her face. She’d practiced it in the mirror until she got it right. She knew she showed no outward sign of nerves. She also knew that she wore a stunning gown beneath her cloak. Only the duchess and their maids had seen her ensemble so far.
When the duchess had offered to lend her a dress for this occasion, Rose had refused at first. But the suggestion had been friendly, not the least condescending. Later, when Rose had looked over the gowns she’d brought with her to Yerndon and remembered her mother’s laments about their lack of fashion, she’d changed her mind.
This “ball” tonight was nearly unique in her life. It was true they were a scattered country neighborhood with no nearby town to hold regular assemblies. But other such places managed some semblance of society. Here, the Keighley/Denholme feud had put a damper on entertainments. Calls and dinners seemed almost furtive with one or the other family left out of each one. And so Rose had never had the opportunity to make an entrance before all her neighbors. She’d been overtaken by a vision of dazzling everyone she knew. She would be not the quiet, slightly dowdy Rose Denholme but a polished young lady. In particular, she wanted to see Gavin’s jaw drop. She would show him! When an inner voice wondered exactly what he was to be shown, and what she expected him to do about it, she brushed it aside.
And so she’d accepted the offered gown, which fit her with only a tuck or two of alteration. The duchess’s maid had helped Sue with her hair as well, giving it a more sophisticated touch. Rose hadn’t quite recognized herself as she put on her cloak in her bedchamber. She’d ridden in the carriage muffled up in it to preserve the surprise.
She and the duchess took off their wraps in a room set aside for the ladies. A long mirror stood in the corner for last-minute adjustments. “You look lovely,” said the duchess.
Rose examined her reflection. The dress was made of silk in a shimmering, golden amber shade. It was exquisitely cut and adorned with three complementary colors of braided ribbon. The amber enhanced her auburn hair and seemed to make her skin glow. Her blue eyes looked back at her with sly wonder. Even beside the beautiful duchess, she looked very well indeed. “Thank you,” said Rose, her tone covering more than a single compliment.
The duchess smiled and nodded as they went out.
Gavin and the duke awaited them in the front hall so that they could enter the ball together. And Rose got what she wanted. Gavin’s jaw actually did drop. His gray eyes went wide. He looked stunned. Rose felt a bubble of elation rise through her, and she laughed. A wild, carefree, daring Rose peeked out of the inner shelter where she lurked, away from critical judgments.
The duke offered his arm. The duchess took it. Gavin forgot to follow suit. He just went on staring. Rose smiled as she moved off behind the Terefords. After a moment, Gavin came along, hurrying a bit to catch up. They followed a footman to the back of the house.
The rooms there had sliding doors that could be pushed back to open the whole space. The Milsomes had moved all their furniture out, so that it was almost like a ballroom, and they stood in the doorway to greet their guests.
The Terefords were welcomed effusively. They passed through, and then Rose and Gavin stood there together, the target of gasps and murmurs. Rose knew that the rising tide of comment was mostly about seeing them together. But some was clearly for her transformation. To her own astonishment, she reveled in it.
Dark-haired, plump Mrs. Milsome looked around the room, openly delighted by the buzz. Rose hadn’t realized she was a frustrated hostess. “You look splendid, my dear,” she said to Rose when she had greeted them.
“Yes, indeed,” said Mr. Milsome.
“That is an exquisite gown.”
Rose nodded thanks. She didn’t intend to volunteer the information that it was borrowed, though of course she wouldn’t lie.
“Good to see the two of you in charity with each other,” said Mr. Milsome heartily.
Charity was not what they were in, Rose noted but did not say. More an armed truce. And tonight she thought she had superior weaponry. She showed her teeth and enjoyed seeing the Milsomes blink at her smile.
Other guests came up behind them, and they moved into the room. Rose wondered who would approach them first. She was not surprised to see that it was Gavin’s mother. “The first dance,” she reminded him, then went on to the circle hovering around the Terefords. She could make introductions. To a duke and duchess. Who would have thought it?
Gavin watched her go. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. It wasn’t simply the fancy gown. There was something different about Rose this evening. Or was it just the unusual setting? No, Rose was different. He’d thought the ball would make her shy and awkward under all these avid eyes, but she was moving through it like a queen.
“What the deuce have you been doing?” demanded an irritated voice.
Gavin turned to find his mother at his side, and a familiar anger crackling in her eyes. They resembled each other in more than looks. Everyone said he’d inherited his quick temper from her.
“I send you off to befriend this duke, and now I find you slinking along behind Rose Denholme like a whipped hound.”
“I wasn’t slinking.” The thought revolted.
“Who has obviously insinuated herself with them, as you apparently have not,” his mother continued.
“She hasn’t been…”
“Wearing one of the duchess’s gowns!”
“Oh.” That explained the dress, which hadn’t seemed like Rose’s customary style.
“She didn’t get a garment like that around here.” His mother surveyed the crowd. “My God, the room reeks of envy. And what have you done? Let her steal a march on you, that’s what.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He didn’t appreciate being spoken to in this way.
“Then you’re a dunce, Gavin. But you aren’t. We both know that. So how did that milksop Rose Denholme get the better of you?”
His anger was rising to match hers, a familiar sensation. But he couldn’t let it. The idea was to prevent arguments tonight, though he hadn’t realized they would rise between him and his mother. “What could be worse?” he murmured.
“I beg your pardon?”
He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “There’s a way to control your temper,” he began.
“Control my temper?” She glared in astonishment.
What was he thinking? His mother enjoyed her fearsome reputation. She treated her temper like a favorite pet. If she let it loose, that would be worse than this. “My efforts will be for naught if there is a scene here,” he said.
“Efforts?”
“The duke is very protective of his wife.” It was more a diversion than an answer, but it worked.
His mother turned to gaze at the duchess. “She does look like she’s about to pop out an heir.”
Gavin hoped she wouldn’t put it like that to the Terefords. “I want to keep on his good side.”
“Are you on it?”
“Yes,” Gavin replied. It was true, though it wouldn’t get them to the goal his mother was pursuing.
The hired musicians began to tune up. “I have to fetch Ro… Miss Denholme for the dance,” he said.
“Have to? What do you mean, have to?”
“It’s part of the plan,” Gavin replied, obviously not mentioning that the plan came from Rose. He walked rapidly away. The depth of his relief was surprising.
Rose was waiting for him. It seemed she had refused both Rob North and Edward Fleming in order to dance with him. These old acquaintances watched with astonishment and what might be envy as he led her out to join the set of a country dance.
Gavin had attended balls in Leeds during his school days and on later visits to friends there. He knew the steps. He could exchange light remarks when he touched hands with his partner and processed down the line. But standing opposite the radiantly transformed Rose, he felt as if he’d entered a whole new world.
The music started. The dancers saluted each other.
“Smile,” said Rose. She was, beautifully.
“It is rather irritating to be told to smile,” Gavin replied.
“You have no idea how well I know that. But it is mandatory in this case. We are giving a demonstration of amity, if you recall.”
“I do recall.” Demonstrating, pretending, he wanted to chuck it all away.
“So smile.”
Grudgingly, he did so. They moved apart, turned, and came together again.
“Not as if you want to bite something,” Rose said as they circled around each other.
“I beg your pardon.”
“Not as if you’d been stuffed and mounted on a wall either.”
A laugh burst from Gavin.
“That’s better.” She nodded up at him, smiling.
“Trophy heads don’t smile,” he pointed out as they skipped hand in hand down the row.
“They’re dead. You aren’t. And you have stopped smiling.”
“The other dancers aren’t grinning like lunatics.”
“They do not have all eyes focused on them.”
“You actually look happy here in…center stage.”
Rose met his eyes. Hers were glowing. “I am. Really dancing, rather than just being taught the steps to a pianoforte, is invigorating.”
“Is it?”
“Yes! Moving in time with all these others. I had no notion.”
Rose was…resplendent, Gavin noted. He’d always thought her pretty, but he would not have described her as vibrantly beautiful, until tonight. Animation illuminated her.
“That’s better,” she said. “You finally look as if you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am.” He was. Her joy was contagious.
“It’s great fun, isn’t it?” She beamed.
Was this her natural state? And why had he never seen it before? But he had, Gavin realized. Years ago, when they and their friends had careened over the moors together. She’d been filled with a similar light in those days. And then it had dimmed. That wasn’t right.
“You’re frowning,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
Gavin restored his smile. Rose was happy now. That was the important thing. As the dance drew them apart and brought them together, Gavin realized that he was enjoying himself more than he ever had at any other ball. He could go on dancing with her, and appreciating her pleasure, forever.
But he couldn’t, of course. The set ended. The couples dispersed. And Rose was surrounded by a clamor of eager partners. He hadn’t been the only one to appreciate her loveliness and her scintillating glow.
Gavin was startled by a fierce desire to pull her away from them, to threaten fellows he’d known all his life, and to claim her for himself. The strength of it shook him.
He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t stand in a corner and glower at them either, as he’d heard Lord Byron had been wont to do. A gentleman would dance with other ladies. It was rude to leave those who wished to dance without partners. There was his pact with the duke as well. He’d promised aid. Feeling disgruntled, Gavin went off to do his duty.
Rose’s father caught up with her after the third set. Her latest dance partner, an old friend from childhood days, had gone to fetch her a glass of lemonade. Rose was wondering where Mrs. Milsome had managed to procure lemons when Papa came to stand beside her. “You are creating quite a sensation,” he said. He seemed more surprised than disapproving, which was a change. “Your mother says the duchess must have provided your finery.”
It seemed an odd word. Rose brushed a hand down the silk of her gown and said merely, “Yes.”
“You look very well.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
“And clearly you are doing well too. Have you spoken to the duchess about passing Yerndon over to us?”
Rose didn’t want to talk about this. Ever, but particularly here in public, where his reaction would be seen. But she couldn’t allow him to harbor unrealistic expectations. “The Terefords are not inclined to do that.”
“The duke’s reluctant, eh? Keighley’s probably working on him. Telling his lies. Get the duchess to cajole her husband. He’ll want to coddle her in her condition.”
Rose had been having such a delightful time. Now she felt a familiar gloom try to descend.
“You should go over there.” Her father gestured toward the duchess. She was sitting on a small sofa that had been brought back in to accommodate her. She had danced one dance with her husband and then settled to watch. She looked perfectly content to do so.
“I was going to dance.”
“That’s not important. The Keighley twins were over there talking to her. Can’t let them start cutting a wheedle. Defend your position, girl.” He didn’t give her an actual push, but his tone was unyielding. They had gone to such lengths to present an amiable facade, Rose thought. She couldn’t be seen to argue with her father. She went over to sit beside the duchess.
“You’re not dancing?”
“I thought you might want company,” Rose said.
“Good heavens, I have been besieged by visitors. I feel like I’m holding court.”
She was rather, Rose thought. The duchess was as close as most of her neighbors would ever get to royalty.
“And I’m enjoying the maneuvers,” the duchess added.
“The what?”
“Watch.” She inclined her head toward her handsome husband.
Rose would have expected the duke to either join the dancing or stay at his wife’s side, but he was roaming the room. He appeared to be making urbane conversation with a variety of guests, but Rose slowly noticed that he was actually herding. If her father drew anywhere near Gavin’s mother, the duke drifted between them and somehow directed the flow so that they did not meet. Gavin was doing the same, she realized. She saw him bring his sisters together with dance partners when they had been heading for her mother. “Sheepdogs,” said Rose, amused and impressed. The duke’s maneuvers were as adroit as they were effective. She was sure no one else had noticed them.
“James doesn’t want me upset,” replied her companion. “He sees me as more delicate than I am. If your families weren’t the ones involved, I could enjoy a good social melee.”
There was that word again. Rose felt like making one of those old-fashioned gestures to ward off evil. She resisted.
“As long as I am well away at the edges, of course,” the duchess went on.
A new set was forming. Edward Fleming approached the sofa and requested a dance. Rose couldn’t help looking for her father. He was deep in conversation with Mr. Milsome.
“Go and dance, Rose,” said the duchess. “You were clearly enjoying it.”
“I was.”
“And I am very happily settled here.” She gestured as if she was indeed a monarch. Rose stood and went. And for the rest of the evening, she evaded her father, using the duke as a roving shield, and she danced, growing giddy with freedom.
She was returning from the retiring room after the supper interval, when Gavin slipped from a doorway to her side. “May I have another dance?” he asked.
“Do you really want one?” Rose asked. She’d had two glasses of champagne.
“Really,” he answered, his gray eyes gleaming.
She wondered how much he’d drunk. Not that he seemed the least tipsy.
They joined the set forming up. The other dancers acknowledged them with nods, and much less curiosity than they’d exhibited at the beginning of the evening. Rose’s plan had worked. Their presence here together was becoming less marked.
The musicians struck up. Rose and Gavin moved through the figures of the dance, circling, touching hands, separating, coming together. The figures included one where Gavin put his arm around her waist and swung her in a giddy arc, the skirts of her amber silk gown fluttering behind them. Each time they spun, Rose grew more aware of the strength of his muscular frame, the intensity of their unison. It was as if he helped her fly. She forgot her own command to smile as they danced. This was too astonishing for practiced grins. For a time, she noticed nothing in the world but him.
Rose was breathless when the music ended, her senses whirling as if they still spun together. That had been like nothing she’d done before. When Gavin looked down at her with an arrested expression, she knew he had felt it too. Their gaze held as the other couples dispersed and the sound of chatter replaced the music. They were left alone in the center of the room—briefly, too long—before they recovered themselves and moved away. Rose took a deep breath and steadied. She caught her father’s glare and decided it would be best not to talk to Papa again this evening. She didn’t dare look for Lady Keighley. Fortunately an old friend approached to ask for the next dance, and she was glad to accept.
The event was winding down, carriages being called for to take best advantage of the moonlight, when Rose found herself standing with a group of young people. Directly across, Gavin gazed at her with compelling gray eyes. Rob North and Edward Fleming stood beside her. The four of them were the last unmarried remnants of their childhood gang. The others had settled down and started families and seemed to belong to a different category these days. The rest of this present group were from a younger cohort. She didn’t know them well. Gavin’s twin sisters, Jillian and Janet, who came to join them just then, clearly did. They leaned close to one of the girls, murmuring and glancing at Rose.
She had been feeling like a social success, and not simply due to her borrowed finery, a new position for her. Now she felt a tremor of unease.
“Remember when we built our castle and repelled waves of invaders?” asked Rob North.
Rose smiled and nodded.
“Castle,” repeated Rob’s sister Bella. “What do you mean?”
Rob and Edward told the tale. Rose thought Bella North was more interested in charming Edward Fleming than in their bygone exploits.
“We should all ride out there together,” said Bella when they were done. “Wouldn’t that be great fun? The weather’s growing warmer too.” She smiled up at Edward.
He smiled back. Bella was a pretty girl, slight and blond. Edward looked ready to be charmed. “Could we even find it now?” he asked the group.
“We went there a few days ago,” Rose said, thinking to be helpful to this budding romance.
“Did you?” asked Jillian Keighley.
“Really?” wondered her twin sister as if finishing the same sentence.
“Who is we?” they inquired in unison.
Their identical gazes were sharp, and Rose regretted her words. Had she thought that one evening of dancing erased years of strife? No, she’d simply abandoned thought and let herself enjoy one evening of careless gaiety. Suddenly, she felt tired.
“A foray from Yerndon,” said Gavin to his sisters, allowing them to think that the Terefords might have been along. The twins didn’t look convinced.
Rob looked from Rose to Gavin. “What’s the place like now?”
“Still much the same.” Gavin made an equivocal gesture. “A bit overgrown.”
“Oh, I must see it,” declared Bella. “Won’t you take me?” She spoke to her brother but included Edward with a flirtatious sidelong glance.
“Would you show us the way, Gavin?” asked Rob.
“Yes, Gavin,” said Jillian. “Will you?” Her emphasis implied more than geographical guidance. She sounded almost threatening.
“If you like,” Gavin said to Rob.
Bella clapped her hands. “When shall we go? Tomorrow?”
“We could,” her brother agreed. “Who’s in?”
Eager voices responded. The Keighley twins were particularly vociferous, determined to be part of the expedition. Bella looked thrilled.
It might have been the sort of plan that young people with leisure time made in other places, Rose thought. Neighborhoods not shadowed by rancor. But then Rob gave Gavin one sidelong glance, Rose another. He looked as if second thoughts were occurring to him.
She wouldn’t go, Rose decided. Gavin had agreed to show the way. She hadn’t. It didn’t matter. She preferred walking on the moor to riding, appreciating each detail of the landscape rather than covering distance. She said nothing as the arrangements were discussed.
They’d barely finished when the duke and duchess approached arm in arm. “The carriage is ready,” said Tereford. The pair smiled and made their farewells to the group.
Rose went out with them, conscious of Gavin behind her and many eyes on her back, glad to be departing in their company rather than with her glowering parents. This was probably how Cinderella had felt, she decided as she put on her cloak at the front door. Her glittering gown wouldn’t collapse into a pile of rushes, but it would return to its rightful owner. Rose wouldn’t be seen in it again.
An irrepressible inner voice piped up. Cinderella had triumphed over all adversity and married a prince. Disaster had overtaken her enemies. The tale didn’t mention how satisfying that must have been.
Shocked at the idea, Rose told herself she didn’t wish disaster on anyone. But she could hope for change. Tonight might have been a beginning.
Back at Yerndon, as Sue was brushing out Rose’s hair, the maid said, “Remember when you were asking about young Ian?”
Rose hid a smile. The footman was only a year or so younger than Sue. “Of course.”
“Well, I thought you’d want to know. He’s gone sweet on that housemaid from the Keighleys. Lucy Trent. And she on him.”
“I thought they were playing tricks on each other.”
“Not any more, miss. Seems one sort of mischief led on to another. Lucy’s taken to saying they’re like Romeo and Jeannette. From enemy clans and all. Doomed. She’s mooning about the place like a lost sheep. If a sheep could chatter like a magpie, that is.” Sue gestured with the hairbrush.
Rose thought the garbled Shakespearean reference was more apt for her and Sir Gavin. Except, no it wasn’t. Enemy clans, yes. Star-crossed love, not at all. What was wrong with her?
“Ian wouldn’t have thought of being doomed,” the maid went on. “His mind’s on other things, if you take my meaning.”
“Should I send him home?” Rose asked. She didn’t want the footman to be hurt. Or to cause a scandal.
“That’d make it worse, miss. As if Lucy was right, you see. And they was pulled apart by fate.” Sue seemed to be savoring the story herself. “I’m not sure what young Lucy would get up to then.”
“What do you think I should do?” Rose asked.
“I dunno. I just wanted to warn you, like.”
“Of what?”
Sue shook her head. “With that Lucy, might be anything.”
Rose sighed. “I’ll speak to Ian.”
Her maid looked doubtful.