Rosalie felt an odd sort of fluttering in her chest as she sat at the mirror. Sarah stood behind, fixing her hair. It was a far more ornate style than Rosalie was used to. Sarah used powder and pins to make it stay, weaving some decorative pearls into Rosalie’s dark strands.
“I’m done, miss.”
Rosalie tilted her head, admiring the style. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured. “You have a real talent. You could be a proper lady’s maid.”
Sarah blushed and hurried over to pick up Rosalie’s gown. “I’ve never seen such a pretty blue,” she said with a sigh, holding it out.
Sarah helped her shimmy into it, and Rosalie took a deep breath as Sarah latched the hooks and eyes up her back. The dress had cap sleeves and exposed her décolletage in a wide “V”. The jade and gold brocade trim wrapped beneath her breasts, while the soft satin of the skirt fluttered in folds down to the floor.
Before Rosalie could reach for her gloves, there came a knock at the door. Sarah hurried over to open it and exchanged a few words with someone in the hallway. She turned holding a small velvet box in her hands.
“This is for you, miss,” she said, a broad smile on her face.
Rosalie knew a jewelry box when she saw one. “Who was that?”
Sarah held out the box. “This is from the duchess.”
Rosalie flipped open the lid and gasped. Inside sat a beautiful, three-strand pearl necklace with an intricate diamond clasp. There was a little note folded inside as well. Rosalie took it and read the words twice, tears stinging her eyes.
In another life, this might all have been yours.
Please accept this as a small token of my friendship.
HWC
Sarah took the necklace out of the box and placed it around Rosalie’s neck, angling the diamond clasp over her collarbone. The pearls felt cool against her skin. Rosalie turned and faced herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the woman who looked back. She fingered the lowest strand of pearls. This was a very fine piece of jewelry, finer than anything Rosalie could afford in a lifetime. And the duchess had just…parted with it. Knowing what she knew of the duchess, could Rosalie allow her friendship to be bought?
She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as Sarah handed her the white, elbow-length gloves. She slipped on the first glove and touched the pearls again. Perhaps Rosalie couldn’t be bought…but she certainly didn’t object to such a lovely attempt.
The entry hall was full of guests by the time Rosalie floated down the stairs. It was one of her favorite rooms, with the black and white marble floor and walls arching up three stories high, every inch adorned in art. Two dozen people queued before the doors that led to the grand gallery.
Renley was the first friendly face she spied as she neared the bottom of the stairs. He looked dashing as ever in his naval dress uniform. His golden curls seemed less unruly tonight, slicked around the ears and brushed back off his forehead. She had to fight the urge to raise a gloved hand and muss it. She liked it when he looked a little more windswept.
“Good lord, Rose. You’re a vision,” he said with a wide smile. “Give the other ladies a chance, won’t you?”
She smiled in return, feeling a blush in her cheeks as she noted the way his eyes trailed down her body. It had been three days, but she still felt him everywhere. His lips, his tongue, his steady hands. Was he thinking about her in that way?
Friends. You both agreed…and when he marries, you must let him go.
He held out an arm to her. “May I escort you in? I’d like you to meet my brother and sister…if it’s not an imposition…”
“Of course,” she replied, accepting his arm.
They joined the receiving line, waiting as the duke, duchess, and James greeted each guest. The duchess was resplendent in a mustard yellow gown with ruby red accents. A spray of red roses adorned her fashionable powdered wig. Her tiara glittered with a hundred diamonds, while more stones sparkled at her ears, wrists, and throat.
James saw her first, his eye trailing down her face and settling on the pearls at her neck. That muscle in his jaw twitched before he let his eye pass over to Renley. It was only when he looked away from her that she realized she’d been holding her breath.
“Good evening, Renley,” said the duke.
“Evening, Your Grace,” Renley replied with a bow. “Your Grace,” he added a bow for the duchess.
“And who is this delightful—” The duke gasped, wide smile on his face as he jabbed his brother in the ribs. “Why, it’s our own little Miss Harrow. James, look. It’s Miss Harrow.”
“Yes, I see her,” James said through a tight smile.
“Your Grace.” Rosalie prepared to drop into a curtsy, but the duke stuck out his hand, as if they were old friends. She paused in a sort of half curtsy and slowly reached out her own hand. The duke took it in both of his and bowed slightly, his lips touching her knuckle. Her eye darted over to James, who watched with a veiled expression.
“You shine as brightly as any ornament here,” the duke murmured. “I was a fool to ever think you a common Cabbage Rose.”
“That’s quite enough,” came the duchess’ stern voice. “George, you’re holding up the line. Let Miss Harrow go at once.”
The duke gave her a little wink before dropping her hand.
Renley tugged on her arm. “What the hell was that about?”
“I have no idea,” she replied honestly.
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I’ll tell Burke. George can play his little games with the others, but he’ll not be playing them with you. If we need to, we’ll unleash James on him.”
Her stomach did a little flip at the thought of these men protecting her, even from something as harmless as the empty flattery of George Corbin.
Renley led her down the crowded grand gallery towards the ballroom. It felt strange to see the house so full of people. “Colin, you’ve found the famous Corbin punchbowl already,” Renley called.
A handsome man turned, clutching a glass of punch. His eyes were just the same shade of blue as Renley’s. He was narrower in the shoulders. His hair was darker too, and his face was lined with grey at his temples. He had a kindness about him that warmed Rosalie instantly. He glanced from Renley to Rosalie, his quirked smile growing.
“Colin, may I present Miss Rosalie Harrow,” said Renley. “Rose, this is my brother, Colin Renley.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” she said, dipping into a curtsy.
“Gracious, Tom, she’s beautiful,” a woman cooed at Renley’s shoulder. She was terribly short, and with her kinky golden curls and pink cheeks she looked almost childlike, but there was a strength in the directness of her gaze.
“My wife, Agatha,” said Colin.
“Very pleased to meet you, ma’am,” said Rosalie. “Renley has told me so much about you both. He’s made me quite envious, as I have no siblings. But it would be just my luck that, if I did, they would never be half so kind as you.”
Colin and Agatha shared some private look before they both turned to Renley. Colin laughed while Agatha beamed. “What on earth have you told the poor girl?” said his brother.
“Colin, hush.” Agatha slapped him lightly with her folded fan. “Miss Harrow, come stand by me and let me tell you no less than three embarrassing stories about our dear Tom before they start the dancing.”
Renley released Rosalie’s arm, letting her take a place between his brother and sister-in-law, who immediately launched into a story about a teenaged Renley and Burke, a cricket bat, and a bee’s nest.
The ballroom was fit to bursting by the time the musicians played a processional to announce the arrival of the Corbins. Rosalie was wedged along the wall between Renley and Agatha, a glass of sweet, fruity punch in hand. The master of ceremonies stood at the double doors and announced, “His Grace, the Duke of Norland, Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Norland, and The Right Honorable, The Viscount Finchley.”
The duke swept in with his mother on his arm, James following behind. He cleared his throat and called out in a clear voice. “My Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen, on behalf of my dear mama, my brother, and myself, I want to thank you for attending our ball tonight!”
The room clapped appreciatively.
“The annual Michaelmas ball has been a tradition in the Corbin family since the reign of the third duke. It is an event we look forward to every year with great anticipation. This year is no exception.” His eye trailed over to the opposite wall where many of the young ladies stood at attention, including the preening Nash sisters in matching dresses of blush pink, the Swindon sisters with their fiery red hair piled in curls, and Lady Olivia, who seemed to take no enjoyment from the duke’s speech and was busy fanning herself.
“The hard work of the harvest is done,” the duke continued. “As autumn sets and the long, cold winter begins, let us celebrate with a rousing night of dancing, feasting, and furious frivolity!”
The excitement in the room seemed ready to boil over as the duke swept forward with the stately Duchess of Somerset on his arm. He had to open the dance with the highest-ranking lady in the room. Rosalie watched as James bowed over the hand of Olivia’s mother. As a marchioness, she was the next highest in rank. Other couples swirled as the master of ceremonies called out the dance: “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot!”
Renley leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Well, Miss Harrow? Is your dance card already full?”
She soaked in his smiles. “It is not, sir.”
“Then may I have your first dance?”
She nodded, setting her glass of punch aside. Agatha beamed as Renley took her hand and led her to the floor. They joined the set near the end. In moments, Rosalie lost herself to the dance. It was a complicated reel and Renley proved himself a little rusty. Rosalie laughed, offering him encouragement as he twice threatened to turn the wrong way.
“I never said I was any good,” he muttered as they came together.
“You’ve had far more important skills worth honing,” she replied. “I can’t imagine you do much reeling aboard your ship.”
“Oh, you might be surprised what sailors get up to when the weather is fine and the grog flows.”
“I think I might like to see that,” she laughed.
“Give it time, Miss Harrow,” he replied. “That Corbin punch is deadly. A few more glasses and I might show the room some talents best reserved for a circus stage.”
It was strange to hear him calling her ‘Miss Harrow’ again. She much preferred the easy manner he had when they were alone. She relished the way his hands lingered overlong with hers, only pulling away at the last possible moment. She loved the way he leaned into her, warm smile on his face.
“You dance so beautifully, Miss Harrow,” said Agatha as the dance ended.
“Thank you,” she replied, glancing down to note the way Renley still held her hand.
Agatha raised a brow. “Well, Tom? Are you going to leave me standing here like a sad little wall flower all night?”
“Of course not,” Renley replied, giving Rosalie’s hand a squeeze before he dropped it. “Agatha, nothing would give me more pleasure than to claim the next dance with you.”
“Hold my fan, dearest.”
Colin laughed as Renley led her away to join the next reel. “How about it, Miss Harrow?” Colin said with a smile.
“Sir?”
“Tom may be the more handsome Renley, but I’m lighter of foot. Care to take a spin?”
She laughed and nodded. Colin set down his wife’s fan and took her hand, leading her out to the set. They danced a quadrille and Rosalie was pleased to see Colin had not exaggerated his talent. He was all ease and cordiality, leading her through the steps while tossing teasing remarks to his brother.
She sat out the next set, watching with a smile as Mr. Bray took a turn with Madeline, who looked sweet as ever in a lavender dress. Remembering Burke’s cold words, her smile fell, and she glanced away. Colin introduced her to a handsome tradesman who claimed her third dance, and then she danced her fourth with Renley again. He was just leading her off the floor when James materialized from the crowd, his handsome green eyes locked on her.
“Will you dance the next with me, Miss Harrow?”
