Page 43 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
They cast these big eyes up toward the mansion, seemingly able to size it. Rose inhaled slowly, feeling suddenly that each and every woman who arrived that night was more worthy of Colin than the next.
How on earth would Colin ever choose her—
Not that he would ever be given the chance. He was a Marquees, and she, a governess. This wasn’t the sort of thing that was “forbidden.” Rather, it simply wasn’t talked about. There wasn’t space for it in logic.
Rose found Duncan in the library and called for him to come along with her. Judith had given him a little suit, specially-designed for him and apparently sent over by his father earlier that morning. Of this, there was talk that Colin had grumbled a bit, demanding why the man could “mail a suit,” yet couldn’t come visit his son.
Of course, all the gossip that swirled throughout London and within the estate itself made Rose dizzy.
“You look quite dapper,” Rose said, as Duncan stepped into the hall.
“Dapper?” Duncan asked. He looked incredulous. “That’s the sort of word that one might use to introduce a much, much older man.”
Rose sniffed, feeling her cheeks redden. She felt an ache of embarrassment and fear, but then shoved it away. “Come along. If you like, you can tease me about what else I say incorrectly down in the ballroom.”
It seemed that Duncan was accustomed to grand parties in the West Indies. It was quite a sight to see him amongst everyone else, casually easing through, as though he owned the place. Rose wouldn’t have been surprised if he drew his hand up to grab a glass of champagne, such was his air.
When they stepped into the ballroom, Rose was overcome with the splendor. She hadn’t been shown the ballroom in her initial tours, and she hadn’t had a reason to enter since she’d arrived. She felt it a great crime, in fact, that the ballroom hadn’t been used in so many years.
It was immaculate, with enormous chandeliers hanging from the center and both of the far sides, golden mirrors that hung on each of the walls and reflected back the swirling chaos of the dancers below, and a gorgeous painting, seemingly of Colin’s family when he’d been a young boy, on the back wall.
Rose hadn’t realised she’d frozen with the shock of it. Duncan reached back and squeezed her hand and nodded, tugging her along. “It’s quite all right, Rose,” he said, as though he knew precisely what she was thinking.
But as they stepped deeper into the ballroom, Rose caught the eye of Colin. He was standing beside his dear friend, Allan, and three other women, all of whom seemed to have sought and found the most pristine dresses in all of England. The sight of them made Rose’s stomach twirl up with panic. She dropped Duncan’s hand, suddenly afraid that she looked like a child herself.
Suddenly, Colin turned his lips toward Allan’s ear. He whispered something, nodded, and then stepped toward Duncan and Rose. It took a moment for him to ease through the crowd, as it was thick with his supposedly “dear” friends. They continually touched his shoulders, said things to him as he approached. Rose wanted to whisper into each of their ears and say, “Really, normally it’s just the three of us. Him and I and Duncan. That’s it.”
What a lie a party was. A ridiculous, beautiful lie.
Finally, Colin was before her. Rose had yearned for this—to see his eyes seeing her dress, to watch as he inhaled her, dropped his eyes all the way to her feet. She remembered that day out on the moor and felt a strange, simmering pleasure at the base of her belly.
“Good evening, Rose,” Colin said. “And of course, Duncan.”
“Of course, Duncan,” Duncan recited back, teasing Colin.
Colin dropped his hand across Duncan’s head and tousled his hair. “Look at you. So grown up,” Colin said.
“Mother and Father allowed me to attend several parties such as these back in the West Indies,” Duncan announced.
Colin’s face was difficult to read, although Rose suspected that this wasn’t terribly pleasant news, nor was it unsuspected.
“Aren’t you going to tell Rose that she looks lovely tonight?” Duncan asked.
Rose’s lips parted in shock. For a long, terribly moment, she wished she could just leap back into the hallway, dart up the stairs, and fall between her sheets, never to be seen again. Slowly, she drew her eyes back up toward Colin’s. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to say any such thing, wanted to tell him that it wasn’t necessary that he acknowledge her in any way.
After all, they were all-out surrounded with beauty. Stunning beauty. Women who hadn’t ever had so much as a second thought about their purpose in life, whether or not they would be “chosen” or ever married.
Such a stark contrast to Rose, who’d grown up with the belief that she hardly deserved dinner.
Duncan’s lips erupted into a yawn. Rose leaned down, grateful to have something else to busy herself with, and whispered, “Are you quite all right, Duncan? I really can take you up to your bedroom if you find the event too… boring.”
Duncan’s eyes were difficult to read, yet glossy and fatigued. Suddenly, there was a voice over the top of Rose—cutting just loud enough over the conversation around them to find Rose’s ear.
“I believe I can help you with this,” she said.
Rose drew her head up and blinked up at Judith. “It’s really no trouble,” she said, her instinct taking over. “It’s my duty to care for Duncan, and I’ve already told Colin that I…”
“It’s not trouble at all,” Judith said. She draped her hand over Rose’s shoulder and tugged her a bit toward her, so that Colin couldn’t hear her words. “You’re a young lady, Rose.”
