Page 20 of Undercover with the Heiress
Rosanna shook her head. With a firm grasp on the saddle leather, she slipped her foot into the stirrup and swung herself up, her thighs flaming with the effort. She adjusted into the seat, then tucked her leg around the pommel to sit side-saddle. Her skirt tugged at a buckle until she loosened it and tucked the navy fabric to the side. Horseshoes clipped against the cobblestones as Elise, already mounted side-saddle on her own mare, Starby, pulled to a stop before the stables. She arched a brow, and the expression contained so many more questions than whether it was ladylike to mount a horse without a block.
Rosanna had met Elise not long after the townhouses had been built and the neighbours had moved in, the same Christmas that Elise’s sister had caused the scandal which so thoroughly destroyed the Hartright family’s name. A blonde waif full of light and laughter, the self-declared spinster spent her time assisting Viscountess Dalton with Spencer & Co. Travel, helping her aunt with her choir, and as a member of numerous committees and fundraisers—although she had never been drawn to Mrs Crofts’s society. Only a little younger than Rosanna, Elise was her counter in every way, which was likely why they had become such firm friends.
‘I was surprised by your note.’ Elise reined in her horse. ‘This is an unorthodox start to married life. You aren’t travelling?’
‘Phineas cannot obtain leave,’ Rosanna replied.
‘From the bank?’ Elise asked, disbelief edging her words.
‘You know what they’re like.’ Rosanna clicked her tongue. ‘Lovelace. Walk.’
Rosanna led the way along the narrow alley that ran the length of connected carriage houses behind the row of townhouses. An uncomfortable wedge of guilt tore through her stomach. She shared almost everything with Elise. But Phineas had been adamant—the more people who knew the reality of their arrangement, the more opportunity there was for slips of information to leak out. Beyond themselves and her parents, no one was to know, at least for the time being. As far as Elise and her siblings knew, this was a pragmatic marriage of convenience, forged to protect the fragile family reputation. What they whispered when she was out of earshot, she could not guess, and in truth, did not want to know.
Between a lull in the traffic, they took the road at a trot. In the park, Elise settled into riding beside her. Rosanna kept her gaze straight ahead as she trawled through familiar conversation topics. From upcoming gatherings to trips to the modiste to complaining about her sisters, all subjects seemed redundant today. Instead of their easy, companionable silence, the quiet air between them felt awkward and stiff.
‘What’s it like?’ Elise asked, her words jumbled almost into incoherence.
‘Number 1?’ Rosanna asked, surprised by her friend’s abruptness. ‘The same as Number 3 and Number 7, only with no wallpaper. Incredibly bland, but not for long. I have plans.’
Elise twisted her grip on the reins. ‘Not the house. Married life. You know.Intimacies. I was too young to talk about it with Charlise. Both of us were too innocent. I’ve never had a confidante I could ask before. I’m curious. What is all the fuss about?’
Babbage’s ever so casual dismissal rung in her memory. What did he mean that he wasn’t interested? What about her did he find so displeasing? Was it her hair? Her stature? Her shape?
Her?
‘It’s tolerable,’ Rosanna said.
‘I’ve known many women whose lives have been upended because ofit. My sister, then Iris. I would hope it’s more thantolerable.’
Rosanna neatened a few stray strands of Lovelace’s mane. Elise knew her too well and would spot a lie. ‘Have you progressed past a trot with your tutor?’
Elise flushed. ‘We are moving fast, yes.’
Rosanna raised her crop and levelled it at a statue on the far side of the park. ‘First one there and back to the start of the street wins.’
‘Aunt Petunia says I shouldn’t. Says it isn’t ladylike.’ Elise shifted in her saddle. ‘Wins what?’
‘The glory. What else?’ Rosanna tightened her hold on Lovelace’s reigns. ‘On my mark.Go.’
After her ride, Rosanna left Lovelace with Mr Brown. She worked with Letitia to pick colours for each blank room, selected fabric swatches for the curtains, and reviewed the week’s menu. She made appointments with decorators and ordered her own linens and new crockery for immediate delivery. After lunch, she wrote letters, ordered stationery with a new monogram, and sent out calling cards. The house hummed with activity, the way a house should.
By mid-afternoon, Rosanna sat and waited for callers in her parlour, the front room overlooking the street on the same level as her bedroom. No one came, save for Spencer, but as Elise had said, most people probably assumed she’d be travelling. Beatrice would be busy at dramatics, and Mama with tending to the baby. Best to wait until she’d had the rooms decorated before hosting too many visitors, anyway.
Jean sent up tea and small cakes, and Rosanna sat on a chaise by the window and ate three of them without having to fight off her siblings.
Independence was lovely.
And lonely.
After tea, Rosanna searched the library for a novel, but finding none, pulled out a book on military manoeuvres. Finally, before five o’clock, she went to her rooms to dress for dinner. When the clock struck six o’clock, Rosanna made her way to the dining room, taking the stairs at a skip. Phineas’s enquiries might have progressed. Maybe he’d uncovered a clue, and tomorrow she could help him investigate.
In the dining room, the small circular table sunk into the large expanse of dark shadows. Her parents rarely ate apart from their brood, and meals stretched the long length of the table. Rosanna pressed her palm to the whitewashed wall. Had they removed her chair to make more space? Or was it sitting empty? It was Wednesday, so they’d be eating chicken. Had Amadeus taken all the gravy? Did Nova sneak her spoon for peas, refusing to persist with her fork?
In her own dining room, opposite sides of the table had been set, as she had directed. She rearranged the cutlery into the right order. She’d need to speak to Hugh about that.
Rosanna rushed to stand by her seat as footfalls drifted along the hallway.
‘Good evening, Phin—’
