Page 45 of Rose and the Rogue
“He’s quite confident,” Poppy concluded with her own assessment. “I wonder what he means by tomorrow evening. We’ve got no plans at all.”
“Let’s find out what’s inside,” Rose begged.
Poppy pulled off the lid. She reached in, encountering a softness she didn’t expect.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
“It’s…soft.” She pulled it out. “It’s cashmere. Not dyed at all, just the raw cashmere. It’s lovely.” She couldn’t keep a note of jealousy out of her voice, for she recognized that this was cashmere of extremely high quality, such that only the rich could dream of buying.
“A wrap?”
“I think so. Yes, here. Try it on.” Poppy draped it around Rose’s shoulders, seeing how flushed her cousin got, and also how the ivory tone of the wrap made her skin look brighter and more aglow.
“He’s not a skinflint, I’ll give him that,” Poppy said. “It looks lovely on you.”
“It feels lovely,” Rose agreed, happiness written all over her face. “But I still don’t understand why he thought I’d have a specific use for it.” She brought the soft woven material up to her nose. “Mmm, it smells of sandalwood. So does he.”
“Oh, Lord, I don’t need to know what he smells like!” Poppy said, unaccountably embarrassed to learn such an intimate detail of a man. “And until you learn more, I’d suggest hiding the wrap. If your mother thought we’d actually paid for that today, she’d never let us go to the high street again.”
Poppy folded the wrap up and put it back in the box, then stashed the box under her bed.
At supper that evening, all was surprisingly normal. Mr. and Mrs. Blake chattered happily about their days. Poppy enjoyed hearing them talk because each was so genuinely interested in the other’s life. She prayed she’d someday find someone who’d be half so interested in her.
After eating, the women moved to the drawing room to relax for a while. Mr. Blake would smoke a single cigar before joining them—even without a male dinner companion, he kept to the rules, which included never offending ladies with the presence of smoke.
Alice entered again with another message on the tray. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said to Mrs. Blake, “but this just arrived, and I thought it might be urgent.”
Mrs. Blake opened it instantly. “Oh! We have been invited to a ball tomorrow night at Lady Worthington’s.” This was both a surprise and compliment, since Lady Worthington was known to host some of the most extravagant parties in London. Invitations were highly sought after.
“How did we manage that?” Rose asked.
“There’s a note included that says she heard that you were the hit of Lady Selby’s musicale.”
“An exaggeration.”
“Who cares?” Poppy interjected. “She wants you to come, and her parties are always talked about.”
“But you said earlier you’ll spend the evening with your mother,” Rose noted. “So I’ll stay home.”
“Ugh, no. This is a Lady Worthington party. You have to go! You might never get a chance again. Your mother can chaperone.”
Mrs. Blake made a mournful sound. “Unfortunately, I’ve got that event at Sir Edward’s tomorrow night. It’s been planned for weeks. And Rose’s papa is working late on his case, so he won’t even be home.”
“We have to find someone!” Poppy pleaded. “What about Lady Sara? If she’s going to tonight’s event anyway, she can chaperone Rose.”
“That’s true,” Mrs. Blake said, brightening. “I’d hate for Rose to miss an opportunity to meet a proper suitor.”
Poppy couldn’t ignore her aunt’s look toward Rose, who remained blissfully ignorant. Obviously, Lord Norbury hadn’t charmed the Blakes even though he’d charmed their daughter. Poppy bit her lip, afraid that things were spiraling out of control, and Rose would be the one to get hurt.
Chapter 16
Lady Sara Monroe was an acquaintance of Mrs. Blake and Mrs. St. George. She was uncommonly pretty, good-hearted, and had the attention span of a goldfish. She wore some of the most fabulous gowns ever to appear at ton parties, and thus was a frequent guest at large affairs. It was said that she dressed as daringly as the late Duchess of Devonshire, but (thank goodness) spent her money much more carefully.
Mrs. Blake wrote to her first thing in the morning to ask if she could chaperone Rose at the party. A few hours later Lady Sara sent back an enthusiastic reply that she was going herself already and of course it would be a pleasure to take Rose along. I shall stop by in my carriage around eight, she said in conclusion.
So Rose was going to this party, despite not knowing about it a day before. She tried to be excited, but she was mostly bewildered.
“What should I wear?” she asked her cousin that afternoon.
