As her maid arranged her hair for the Burnham ball, Rosalind found her mind wandering. In the last week, Mr. Rowley turned up at most events she had attended, which was an annoyance. Either he hadn't realized her seriousness about no interest in a flirtation, or he was ignoring it. Rosalind was sick of the sight of him and wished he would come to his senses.
"You look beautiful, Rosy," Evan said as he entered the room. "You are going to make Miss Burnham green with jealousy."
"Flatterer," Rosalind said, delighted to be distracted from her thoughts. She was pleased with the pale rose silk gown she wore and thought she looked well enough in it. "No such thing will happen. In fact, I'm certain the young lady will look just as she should and have the attention as she should."
Ingram finished the final touch, making sure the tiny silk roses would remain in place. "Thank you, Ingram," Rosalind said, smiling at the maid. "You do such splendid work. I don't know what I would do without you."
The woman's curtsy did not hide the pleased smile on her face. "Rosy, dear, we shouldn't keep Henrietta and Thomas waiting," Evan said, his tone a bit impatient. "Are you ready? Or do you need more time?"
"Yes, I'm ready," Rosalind said as she stood up. She slipped on her long white gloves and then smoothed the fabric. "Henrietta has been very out of patience with me these past few weeks."
Which was putting the matter lightly. Her sister-in-law had been outright hostile since Mr. Rowley's one visit. Every day, and almost every hour, she would hint it was time Rosalind and Evan to find their own townhouse. Yet, not a word would be said when Evan was nearby.
Lord Thomas Westwood had nothing to say on the matter. In fact, he tended to ignore his wife, which no doubt added to Henrietta's sour attitude. In short, the atmosphere in the house was one of tension and coldness.
"I'm sure it is just the cold weather," Evan said, his tone soothing. "She is always like this in the winter. Once summer comes, she'll be more herself."
Raising her eyebrow, Rosalind kept her doubts to herself. Ingram held up her dark blue wool cloak and laid it across Rosalind's shoulders. "I will be glad to visit Emily," Rosalind said as she tied the cloak at her neck. "Perhaps the spring flowers will have begun to bloom."
"I will admit London has been sadly flat this year," Evan said with a sigh. "The Luddite attack has left many worried."
"Flat?" Rosalind said in surprise. "How can it be flat when you have so many friends in town? It seems I cannot turn around and someone professes to be or to know someone who is a close friend of you. And you are always away."
As soon as she spoke, she bit her lip. The last had come out more as a complaint than she'd meant it to be. To her relief, Evan didn't notice.
"It's true I know a great many people," he said, "but only a select few I would call close or even friend."
"Well, a 'great many' believe they are your close friends," Rosalind said with a smile. "Or at least, other people say this person or that person qualifies for the description."
Evan shook his head. "I cannot be held accountable for what other people say, Rosy dear. Some may wish to be my close friend, but I do have some standards. And really, I do not have that much consequence."
"What a trial it is to be you." Rosalind batted her eyes at him and felt completely ridiculous doing so. Her cheeks heated up and she tried to hurry for the door.
"My dear, if you keep this up, we shall neither of us make it to the ball," Evan warned her, catching her as she tried to pass him. "And as we remained in London specifically for this event, that would hardly be the thing to do."
Batting her eyelashes, and feeling utterly ridiculous doing it, Rosalind smiled up at him. "As you are the one holding me back, perhaps you should take your own advice, husband of mine."
Leaning down, the man kissed her and then tapped her nose. "Well, we will simply have to continue this conversation later."
He took her hand and tucked it in his elbow. Together, they left the dressing room and made their way down to the hall. Lord Thomas was studying the brim of his hat, and his wife was tapping her foot. "There you are," Henrietta said with a huff. "For a moment, I wondered if you intended to beg off."
Flinching at the implied criticism, Rosalind lowered her gaze. "Nothing would keep us from this ball," Evan said to his sister-in-law. His tone was light and unconcerned. "We shall, however, be making a fashionable entrance."
****
Miss Daphne Burnham had already left her parents' side by the time Rosalind and Evan reached the Burnhams. After exchanging polite greetings, they were in the ballroom. Pink silk adorned the walls and flowers of every shade of pink imaginable were everywhere.
"Did you know, Mrs. Burnham wears nothing but pink," Evan whispered in his wife's ear. "It is rumored she has every shade of pink known to man. It is the one thing she is known for."
Astonished, Rosalind twisted to look at him. "You cannot be serious. Nothing but pink?"
"Landon!" Evan called out, instead of answering her. "Good evening."
"West," Mr. Landon said as he approached. "Lady Evan. It's good to see you again."
For a moment, Rosalind thought someone's hands were on her back and then she stumbled forward. Evan caught her before she lost her balance. "It is quite the crush here," he said. "Are you well, Rosalind?"
"I'm fine," Rosalind said as she straightened up. "However, I cannot say the same for my gown. I think I may need to check my hem. Please excuse me, gentlemen."
She slipped away from her husband, unable to shake the feeling she had been pushed on purpose. "There are a great many people," she said under her breath. "It's possible it was just an accident."
A maid directed her to one of the rooms set aside for just such a purpose. Another maid was there, ready to assist. Rosalind's hem was, in fact, torn. It took only a few minutes for it to be repaired.
"Thank you," Rosalind said gratefully. She handed the woman a tip and then left the room.
"You must be John Emerson's daughter. You look just like him."
The unfamiliar woman's voice startled her. Turning, Rosalind found a tall, slender lady in a gold evening dress. "I'm sorry. I don't believe we have been introduced," Rosalind said, smiling to hide her unease. "But, yes, John Emerson was my father."
"I knew it," the woman said, her brilliant red lips curving in a smile. "I knew your father, you see, Lady Evan."
"You are Evangeline Fisher, aren't you," Rosalind said, trusting the feeling that twisted in her stomach. Maybe it was the glint in the woman's blue eyes or the way she smiled as though she knew something no one else did.
For a split second, Mrs. Fisher's smile dimmed. "You've heard of me. I'm honored."
"Let's just say your name was brought to my attention some time ago." Rosalind turned back toward the ballroom. "If you will excuse me, I must return to my husband."
"In fact, I might say I knew your father better than anyone else in society. Save, perhaps, for Mrs. Emerson, of course," Mrs. Fisher said as if Rosalind hadn't spoken at all. "Did you know that, Lady Evan?"
"It was mentioned, yes."
Again, Mrs. Fisher's smile faded. "It was?"
Rosalind shook her head. "I don't think there is anything more to be said. Good evening, Mrs. Fisher." She walked away, hiding her shaking hands in her skirt.
"I expected more from you, Lady Evan," the woman called after her. "What would your mother have said about this behavior?"
As she hurried back to the ballroom, Rosalind tried to calm her racing heart. How could she have been so cruel? Mrs. Fisher mentioning her intimacy with Rosalind's father only confirmed what Mr. Rowley had said. What had Mrs. Fisher hoped to gain by approaching her?
"Lady Evan! How lovely you look this evening." Mr. Rowley stepped in front of her. He caught her hand before she could prevent him. "I have been deprived of your beauty for too long."
"You are too kind, sir," Rosalind said, pulling her hand free of his grasp before he could kiss her gloved knuckles. "If you will excuse me, I have been away from my husband for too long."
"Surely Lord Evan is not such a strict husband he requires you to be by his side at every moment," Mr. Rowley said with a frown. "Come, take a turn about the room with me, and I insist on a dance. The first."
"You are correct. My husband does not require me by his side, but I prefer his company to anyone else's," Rosalind said bluntly. "That is, I believe, as it should be. And Lord Evan shall have the first dance. Naturally."
"My lady, you have been so little in society, I don't think you are in a position to make such a statement. Married ladies are freer to enjoy certain pleasures than unmarried girls."
Was the man so dense he could not take a hint? "So you're trying to say you believe me incapable of knowing my own mind?" Rosalind asked, staring at him. She snapped her fan out, wishing she could remember whether there was some movement to indicate her displeasure. "That is hardly flattering, Mr. Rowley. Your attempts to please me continually fail. I wonder that you persist."
"Lady Evan, you know that is not what—"
"Mr. Rowley, I assure you, I do know my own mind, and I would thank you for respecting my opinions, however distasteful you might find them."
"Lady Evan!" the familiar voice of Mrs. Landon reached them before the woman herself did. "Once I saw your husband, and he said you were here, I have been looking everywhere for you. Oh, good evening, Mr. Rowley. I'm sure you won't mind if I pull Lady Evan away from you."
His lips pursed in a thin line, Mr. Rowley gave a bow and withdrew. "Thank you," Rosalind said turning to her friend with gratitude and relief. "I was about to give him the cut direct, and I'm not so sure I could have done it correctly."
"I confess you did look as though you were in need of a rescue," Mrs. Landon said as she linked arms with Rosalind. "Mr. Rowley can be overwhelming, though most ladies appear to enjoy his attention. I am fortunate to have never drawn his notice."
"I wish I had not," Rosalind said, shaking her head. "I don't even know what I did to earn his attention. No matter what I say, he will not leave me alone. It's as though he does not think me serious."
They walked around several giggling young ladies. "Unfortunately, it is rather acceptable for a gentleman such as Mr. Rowley to flirt with a married woman," Mrs. Landon said with a sigh. "Still, he ought to know when he is unwanted and respect the lady's decision."
"Why would anyone believe such a flirtation is acceptable? When such a thing could lead to ..." Rosalind glanced around and then lowered her voice. "To one or the other being unfaithful to their husband or wife."
"I don't know. The rules of society are a mystery to me sometimes."
Sighing, Rosalind decided to put it out of her mind. "Well, I do appreciate you coming to rescue me. No one else seemed to notice."
"Oh, I assure you they noticed, and it will be passed on one of two ways. Either it will be remarked that you did not enjoy poor Mr. Rowley's humble attention, or you will be pitied for having had to suffer from them."
"That's what I'm afraid of. And I suppose there is no way to influence the opinion of the gossips before they set to wagging their tongues."
Mrs. Landon shook her head. "If there is a way, I'm afraid I haven't discovered it yet. Come. I will introduce you to my sister."
****
Evan found Rosalind in time for the first dance, and he swore none but himself would take her into dinner. Although she was not asked to stand up every set, Rosalind danced more than she'd ever danced in one evening and enjoyed pleasant conversation in between dances.
More than once, she caught sight of Mrs. Fisher watching her. Every time the woman realized Rosalind had noticed her, Mrs. Fisher would laugh and turn to whoever was close. Moments later, the woman was surrounded by laughter.
Gritting her teeth, Rosalind turned her back on the scene every time. A part of her suspected she was the reason behind the laughter. She knew perhaps it was self-centered of her to think such a thing, but she couldn't shake off the suspicion. What mischief was the woman making?
By the time the supper dance was announced, Rosalind was more than ready for a meal. Evan appeared at her elbow. "Shall we, dear Rosy?" he asked as he held his hand out to her.
"Evan, I thought I asked you not to call me that in public," Rosalind said, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She sent a glance around to ensure no one heard.
"Did you? Perhaps so. I cannot recall whether I agreed to do as you asked." Evan's tone was teasing as he led her out to join the line. "When your fair beauty reminds me of the sweet rose, I can do nothing but name you as such."
"A rose possesses thorns, sir. Be warned you do not encounter mine."
They faced each other. "Duly warned, madam, but I am not faint of heart. I shall risk all," Evan said with a smile. He brought her hand up to his lips. "It shall be worth every trial and every effort."
"Evan, you are ridiculous!"
"This is cozy, isn't it?" Mrs. Fisher's voice sent a chill down Rosalind's back. "Lord Evan, what a delight it is to partner you and your wife for this dance."
Even worse was Mr. Rowley smirking at Rosalind from beside her husband. "Fortunate is what I would call it, as Lady Evan dislikes to dance," he said with just as much enthusiasm as Mrs. Fisher. "And we must share a table afterward so that we may converse together. I insist."
"Perhaps," Evan said, his tone short.
The music began for the first part of the quadrille. It took all of Rosalind's self-control to perform the steps and not walk off the dance floor. Such action would only make the situation worse, and she knew better than to invite scandal.
"Come, Lady Evan, you must smile," Mr. Rowley said with a smirk. "Else some might think you are enduring some kind of torture."
Chin up, Rosalind chose not to respond. Instead, she focused on the intricate movements of the dance. Why was the quadrille so long and have five parts? Couldn't the supper dance have been something shorter? Would it never end?
"You are ignoring me? Dear Lady Rosy, you shall drive me mad with this behavior." The man's voice had risen. "You were not born to play the ice queen."
How dare he use her husband's pet name for her? "Evan, shall we make an early start tomorrow, do you think?" Rosalind asked, focusing on her husband. "I find I am eager to leave London company."
Evan smiled, the expression in his eyes softening. "I have every intention of doing so," he said as his wife wondered when his expression had become so stern. "London has been even more flat this year than I'd originally thought."
"Perhaps you ought to expand your circle of friends," Mrs. Fisher exclaimed, interrupting their conversation. "For with the right company, no one could call society 'flat,' Lord Evan. Your wife's father would tell you the same thing, I am sure. He was always excellent company."
"I certainly hope the weather does not impede us in any way, " Rosalind said to Evan, determined to ignore the woman. "I remember how bad the roads can be this time of year."
"Never say you are abandoning us, my lady," Mr. Rowley said, his tone dramatic. "You are expected everywhere! What will people say?"
"If our journey does take longer, it will simply mean more time for you and I to enjoy each others company, my dear," Evan said as though the other man had never spoken. "In fact, I cannot think of anything more enjoyable. Perhaps we should plan on a long journey."
The entirety of the dance was spent in the same vein. Rosalind and Evan carried on a conversation, ignoring the other couple. As soon as the quadrille ended, Mr. Rowley said in a loud tone, "Come, Lord Evan, let us find a table for these beautiful ladies."
"I thank you for your offer, Rowley; however my wife and I have other arrangements," Evan said to the man, tucking Rosalind's hand into his elbow. "Good evening."
Before the man could object, Evan tugged Rosalind away. "Heavens, I have never met such a persistent man," she said, after breathing out a sigh of relief. "Is he always so...oh, what is the right way to say it?"
"He is a repugnant, impertinent toad as far as I'm concerned," Evan said, his voice low. "How dare he speak to you in such intimate terms? The sooner we are away, the better."
"On that, we are agreed."