Rosalie watched Burke leave the ballroom with butterflies in her stomach. Their moment together was…everything. She was still riding the high of her release. She wanted him again. Soon. She was holding Madeline’s fan and her glass of punch, watching with a smile as Madeline danced a waltz with Mr. Bray.
Through the crowd, a lady caught her eye, waving at her with her fan with a wide smile on her face. In this sea of faces, it took Rosalie a moment to place her, but she realized with a jolt it was the same beauty who had been speaking to Renley earlier. The woman who leaned in so intimately, laughing and touching his arm. Now she wove between a few lords and ladies as she came to Rosalie’s side.
“Are you Miss Harrow?” she said, her voice sweet and musical. “Oh, you must be, for you’re just as Tom described you.”
Rosalie felt her heart stop. She knew exactly who this woman was…but it wasn’t possible. She saw all the invitations and her name had decidedly not been on the list. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“No, of course not,” the woman replied with an airy laugh. “I’m being too forward. I should have waited for Tom to introduce us. Though I feel I know you already from how he has carried on. I’m Marianne Young…Tom’s Marianne,” she added.
Rosalie’s heart clenched in her chest, even as she forced the smile to stay on her lips. The way Marianne said Tom’s name—so informally, so possessively—she was clearly trying to send a message. “Oh, I…I had not known you would be attending tonight.”
“I know it was last minute, but Tom invited me,” Marianne replied with a smile. “And my family is seated here as well, as I’m sure you know.”
“Of course,” Rosalie replied.
Marianne took a step closer. “May I call you Rosalie? You see, I had a notion that you and I would be fast friends.”
Rosalie just nodded, using her cup of punch as an excuse to say nothing. Across the crowded hall, she spotted Renley. He was standing between his brother and Mr. Selby, deep in conversation. The men laughed as he told an excessively diverting sailing story, complete with hand gestures.
As if he could feel her eyes on him, Renley caught her eye in return. His immediate response was to smile. Her heart flipped at the look, but she didn’t dare return it. When his eye landed on Marianne, his smile fell. Rosalie watched as his face fluttered—fear, frustration, resolve. He didn’t want her talking to Marianne. Why?
Rosalie glanced to her right and knew she was caught. Marianne was watching her too. Those soft blue eyes missed nothing.
“He came to me in London, you know,” Marianne said in a conspiratorial whisper. “I curled my little finger at him, and he came running. But then, he’s always been so devoted. I don’t know how I got so lucky as to deserve him.”
Rosalie said nothing, doing her best to keep her features schooled. She knew he’d gone to London. She even knew he went to speak with Marianne, though she’d carefully asked for no details. And Renley offered none.
Marianne inched closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell you what passed between us, for it would be…indelicate,” she said. “And you are such an innocent. Such a sweet flower.” She had the audacity to raise a gloved hand and stroke Rosalie’s cheek.
If Marianne was telling the truth, Tom went from her bed to Rosalie’s arms. For was it not the day after his return from London that they shared their first kiss in the forest? What about what happened after? Every day since, his every look, touch, and stolen word told Rosalie he wanted more from her.
But he does not love you. He loves Marianne. It’s always been Marianne.
“Fate has been unkind,” Marianne went on. “I’ve lived eight years without my Tom, trapped in an unhappy marriage. But we’ve been given a second chance. He came to me in London and forgave me. He said such beautiful words. It taught me to hope that perhaps he had not completely hardened his heart to me. I braved the journey here and we find ourselves as much in love as ever. And I want to thank you.”
Rosalie felt ready to scream. “Thank me?”
“Tom told me you’ve been such a good friend. Was it not you who urged him to come to me? You reminded him about what really matters.” Condescension dripped from the lady’s tone. It was enough to have Rosalie fisting her gown to keep from raising a hand to smack the smug look off her face.
“And what matters, Mrs. Young?”
“Love,” Marianne replied. “Honoring first love. Building on strong foundations.” She leveled a look at Rosalie. “Tom knows what he has with me: a passionate, abiding love. Thank you for reminding him, for being such a friend to us both.”
If this woman didn’t get out of Rosalie’s face, she was going to slam her head into the mirrored wall. Renley must have noticed something was wrong because his eye kept darting across the room. In moments, he was excusing himself.
“Ahh, you see?” Marianne cooed. “See how he comes to my side. He makes such a dutiful fiancé.”
Rosalie’s heart sank out of her chest. Had Renley proposed? When?
Perhaps while you had Burke on his knees.
Rosalie blamed herself, for had she not encouraged him to forgive this conniving creature?
“I hope we’ll be married in Town…” Marianne went on.
Rosalie couldn’t listen to another word, and Renley was almost upon them. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together,” she forced out, her breath nearly choking on the words.
“I plan on it,” Marianne replied. “He is my only concern.”
Before Renley could squeeze his way past the last barrier of bodies, Rosalie spun on her heel and darted away.
“Miss Harrow, wait—”
“Let the poor thing go, Tom,” came Marianne’s ringing words of triumph.
Rosalie chanced a look over her shoulder to see Renley standing in the spot she’d just vacated with Marianne’s hand curled around his upper arm in a natural gesture of possession.
