Page 47 of Wicked Rivals
Pevensly opened the door and glanced inside, assuming all would be in order. But before he closed the door a breeze drifted through the room from an open window facing the mew below. Papers on the desk rustled, and the curtains slowly lifted and fell.
Frowning, Pevensly walked over to the window and slid it shut. A maid must have left it open, for what purpose he could not fathom, but he would speak to the maids and remind them not to leave open windows in an empty room. He then tidied the papers on the desk and left.
By now his stomach was rumbling, and he was interested to know what the cook had prepared. It might be a while until Her Ladyship returned, and she always insisted that the staff dine on the best food while she was away so it would not have to be thrown out. It was one of many reasons why Pevensly appreciated his mistress. With a pat on his stomach, he proceeded to the door that would take him downstairs to the staff kitchens.
******
Rosalind glared at Joanna. “How on earth did I let you talk me into this?”
Ashton’s sister was almost a feminine version of her older brother, with bright blue eyes, pale blond hair and stunning features. Unlike Ashton, however, Joanna was a creature made of pure sweetness. She was always full of smiles, even if she did have a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
“If I remember correctly, it’s because I told you how many wonderful gentlemen will be attending tonight, which will give you many chances to make Ashtonveryjealous. He won’t be able to do anything because he will be forced to behave himself.” Joanna nudged Rosalind in front of a tall mirror and grinned.
Rosalind couldn’t help but smile. She’d brought a lovely round dress of white figured lace over a white satin slip. Her maid had packed it because it worked equally well as an evening dress or for balls, not that she’d planned on dancing when she’d prepared for this journey. No, she’d been contemplating seduction, and this dress brought out her dark hair and accented her figure to advantage. The sleeves were alternately puffed with pinkgros de Naplesand white lace.
She hadn’t really let Joanna talk her into the ball—it was part of her bargain with Ashton to keep up appearances, and she intended to do her part. She had given their argument in the fields some thought and felt she had to trust him to return her companies to her if she played her part. But seducing him back might just help ensure that he did keep his word, and a ball might help that along.
“This is beautiful,” Joanna said with a sigh. “I love it when gowns have wreaths of field flowers on the hem. You have exquisite taste.”
Rosalind examined Joanna’s gown. It was a similar white lace round dress with a bodice strewn with rosebuds, and the sleeves were interspersed with pearls and flounced with bluebells and roses. A lovely gown, but it did not do much for Joanna’s pale hair and creamy skin.
“It’s a good thing white is in season. I have plenty of white gowns.” Joanna plucked at her skirts and sighed.
“But with your fair complexion you should try other colors. Rose or dark blue,” Rosalind suggested.
“Do you think so?” Joanna studied herself in the mirror, as if picturing herself in such a gown.
“Oh yes. Men notice color more than you think. Try something striking—don’t let any matrons’ gossip bother you. I know many believe pastels are the only suitable colors, but if it washes out your coloring, it fails to serve its true purpose, which is to aid you in hunting for a husband.”
Ashton’s sister laughed. “It’s silly, but I haven’t found a man who is interesting enough to tempt me into matrimony. But there is always so much pressure to find a match.” Joanna sobered. “Every time I attend dinners and balls in London during the season, I watch my friends find husbands, and every year the married ladies ask me when I shall find a match, as though that was all I was created for. It’s maddening to think that I only draw breath to serve as a vessel for bearing children. I want to find a man who will love me for me, a man who will be a partner in my life, someone who is wild and adventurous and not concerned with the cut of his coat or the style of his cravat.” Joanna blushed when she glanced at Rosalind. “I’m sorry. I should have not said that.”
Pity and understanding filled Rosalind, and she clasped Joanna’s hands in hers. “We are of the same mind, you and I. Never think you cannot speak your heart to me.” She smiled. “What you need is a husband who will move heaven and earth for you, yet still sees you as an equal.”
Joanna frowned. “Assuming such a man exists. How am I supposed to know if a man sees me in such a way?”
It was a good question. Men so often seemed to speak of women as prized possessions in public circles. It was hard sometimes to tell how they thought of them as people.
“If a man professes his love for you, look close at how he speaks about you and ask yourself—does he lovewhoI am, orwhatI offer? Let the answer guide you. After seeing how Lady Essex, Lady Rochester and Lady Sheridan’s husbands are with their wives, I see now it is possible. If you can make a match like that, you’ll escape the sense of being trapped. I promise you.” She gave Joanna’s hands a gentle squeeze before letting go.
“Thank you. I’m too afraid to talk to Mama of such things. Not that she’d be angry with me, but I think she feels she plays a part in my failure to find a husband. It has been a strain on her.”
Rosalind nodded. “I imagine so, but you mustn’t let it bother you. You must look happy and relaxed for a man to be interested.”
Ashton’s sister beamed, hope making her eyes bright and excitement putting a blush in her cheeks.
It was nice to help Joanna and offer her advice. Her own mother had died before they could have talks like this, and it had left a deep empty well inside her. Inside everyone in her family. There had been no balls, no suitors, no giggling over dresses or discussions on how best to catch a husband. All the things that mothers and daughters would have shared, she had not been able to do. Rather than a come-out, she’d been trapped in an aging castle, coping with every vicious blow her father dealt and hiding every minute she could manage.
“Well, it’s too late to change my dress now.” Joanna gazed at her reflection again, a tad wistful.
“Next time then,” Rosalind assured her. “Are you ready?”
Joanna nodded. “We’re taking a coach. The men will ride.”
“Thank heavens for that,” Rosalind muttered. If she had to share a coach with Ashton, she’d likely stomp on his foot on purpose…more than once. Not that it would do much good. He’d be wearing sturdy leather shoes, and she would be in white satin slippers.
“Here.” Joanna handed her a pair of elbow-length evening gloves before tugging on her own. It had been a relief to not have to change in Ashton’s bedchamber tonight. She was still furious with him after what had happened in the field, and if she’d had to be alone with him again so soon, she might have thrown something at that stubborn, pragmatic head of his.
As they came down the main stairs, Regina was waiting for them.
