Page 76 of A Match Made in London
Chapter 23
“It seems we are on our own tonight,” Lady Belham said as they headed out to the carriage that would take them to the evening’s entertainment. A ball, from what Rosalind had been told, though she didn’t have the faintest clue whose ball. Nor did she care.
She had been numb since Tristan had left her that afternoon. It was a necessity. For if she felt half of what simmered below the surface, roiling away beneath her breast, she would shatter. She had done the right thing. She was certain of it. Yet there was that small part of her that whispered of her bruised heart, telling her she had made a horrible mistake.
She had not wanted Tristan to join them this evening. As a matter of fact, she should be only relieved. He at least had the decency to see that it would not be in either of their best interests to be in one another’s company tonight.
Even so, her employer’s casual words were a blow.
“Sir Tristan has declined to join us?”
“Yes.” Lady Belham frowned. “He declared he would be absenting himself for much of our social engagements for the foreseeable future.” She looked to Rosalind. “You were with him for much of last night, my dear. Would you know anything about this sudden change?”
Rosalind blanched. Lady Belham must know what happened between them.
But the woman’s eyes were kind, and full of concern, not condemnation. Rosalind drew in a steadying breath. “No, my lady.”
Blessedly they reached the door and stepped out into the cool evening air. There was a bustle of activity, as they were ushered to the street and handed up into the waiting carriage.
All too soon, however, the carriage started off. And Rosalind was left in the dim quiet with Lady Belham and nothing else to occupy them.
“It’s strange, his sudden shift. He has been so attentive the last few days. Now all of a sudden he is stepping back. What do you think it could be?”
Rosalind gripped the seat beneath her, digging her fingers into the plush cushion. “I hardly know,” she said through stiff lips. She tensed, waiting for a bolt of lightning to hit her where she sat. Surely she would be struck down soon for her sins, not the least of which was lying to Lady Belham. The woman was concerned for her cousin, that was plain to see. Yet what could Rosalind do? Answer truthfully, that Tristan’s sudden leave-taking was due to the fact that she had taken him into her bed and then had pushed him away to protect her own battered heart?
“I admit,” Lady Belham went on, unaware of the torment Rosalind was in, “I have enjoyed the last several days immensely. It seems an empty evening without such wonderful company. Don’t you agree?”
“Mhmm.” Anything more and Rosalind thought she might loose the sob that seemed stuck in her chest. For ithadbeen wonderful. For the first time in too long she had felt herself a part of something, not only a companion from the outside, brought in only when something was needed from her.
“Ah, well, we shall have to content ourselves with one another, darling.” Lady Belham smiled, then launched into a long discourse on the merits of men and which would make the best dance partners for this evening. She didn’t seem to mind that the conversation was decidedly one-sided.
Rosalind, for her part, knew she should attempt to respond. This was her job, after all. But she could not seem to concentrate, much less reply with any semblance of sense.
How she missed Tristan. She had not realized how much color he had given to her world, how much joy. He had become a friend in the last days, someone she had felt comfortable confiding in. He had quite stolen her heart, and the rest of her right along with it.
She fingered the locket at her throat, now held in place by a length of black ribbon. But she had been a fool for being lulled by him, and an even greater fool for giving so much of herself to him after what had happened to Guinevere. She could see that clearly now, and that the path she had taken since waking this morning was the right one. She would not be the fool her sister had been, would not allow herself to be destroyed by her love for a man.
So why did she want so badly to see him again, to laugh with him, talk with him…to love him?
She would focus on Lady Belham, she decreed as she entered the mansion beside her employer. Even so, as they passed into the front hall, as they greeted their host and they made their way into the ballroom, Rosalind found her eyes scanning the heads towering above her, looking for those telltale golden locks. Her lips twisted in disgust. It seemed her head was in full agreement with her. But her heart, that traitorous organ, would take some more convincing.
Lady Belham, thank goodness, was in high spirits. She was quickly set upon by all manner of men who would secure a dance with her. As soon as the music started up for a set, a gentleman was there to lead her off. And as soon as the music ended she was back at Rosalind’s side, her eyes sparkling, her lips at Rosalind’s ear as she whispered all kinds of scandalous comments, both good and bad, about her partners.
Yet Rosalind could not fail to notice that Lady Belham left the waltz open. Nor could she fail to see the sinking of the woman’s spirits when that dance came and went and she remained at Rosalind’s side.
It was not a blatant change of mood. She still smiled, still conversed with Rosalind. But she could see the way her employer’s eyes tightened at the corners, how she scanned the room for something or someone. Had she been hoping for a particular man to claim herfor the dance? Surely not, for Lady Belham had shown no favor to any of the men this evening, or any evening before this.
The dance ended, and Lady Belham’s next partner arrived to claim her for the next set. As she placed her hand in his, a sudden commotion went up from the orchestra balcony. Their host stood there, looking pleased as he called for attention. The roar of conversation dwindled and as one the assembled guests turned their attention to him.
“I thank you for humoring me,” he said, his voice booming over the sea of heads. “I know you wish to get back to your dancing, but I have received the most glorious news and I was given the very great honor of sharing it with you all. My very dear friend, you see, has gotten himself engaged, and I could not be more pleased. And so, without further ado, may I present Lord Bilton and his future wife, Miss Georgiana Harvey.”
A roar of well-wishes erupted from the partygoers. Rosalind clapped along with them as the newly engaged couple took their places beside their host. The gentleman she recognized as having danced with Lady Belham on more than one occasion. He looked down at his future wife with a small smile, while she beamed and blushed. Such was the commotion from the announcement that Rosalind did not immediately notice Lady Belham still at her side—nor the woman’s changed pallor.
It was when her employer began to sway, however, that Rosalind understood that all was not right. She hurriedly put an arm about her. “My lady, are you unwell?”
The woman did not answer. She looked to be in more distress as her eyes remained fixed to the balcony. “It can’t be,” she muttered weakly.
“Lady Belham?” The woman did not seem to know Rosalind was there at all. Her lips worked silently, tears pooling in her eyes. Without warning she listed to the side.
