The following morning, everyone was on high alert waiting for the arrival of the duke and the rest of the house party. Rosalie saw nothing of the gentlemen, as they were all out attending to various affairs. She spent the morning oscillating between trying to be helpful to the horde of harried servants, and just trying to stay out of the way.
“When should we expect them?” she asked, helping Mrs. Robbins tend to a floral arrangement in the morning room.
“Oh, not til this evening. Just in time for dinner, if the roads are good. You won’t be on your own much longer, dear. Perhaps you’d like to sketch this morning?”
Rosalie hissed and pulled her hand out of the flowers. Mrs. Robbins’ words had distracted her and she pricked her thumb on a thorn. She glanced down at the pad of her thumb, seeing a little spot of red. “Who told you I sketch?” she asked, giving her thumb a little suck to numb the pain.
“Lord James,” Mrs. Robbins replied her eyes focused on her work. “He had me set out some things for you and put them in the ladies’ day room.”
Rosalie stilled. James told the housekeeper of her hobbies? When? She ducked her face behind the flowers, hoping Mrs. Robbins wouldn’t see her blush, as her vision filled with memories of the previous night. His two best friends had shared her so passionately. She still felt them everywhere, her body ached with it. Those memories flashed with others—James pressing her against a bookcase, his lips on her throat, his voice in her ear—
“Miss Harrow, dear? Are you well?”
She blinked, glancing up at Mrs. Robbins, who was watching her with a curious eye. “I am perfectly well, Mrs. Robbins. Just a bit tired.”
Mrs. Robbins pursed her lips. “Yes, well your ride last night must have been rough. You’re looking a little stiff this morning.”
Rosalie wanted to sink through the floor with mortification. She didn’t miss the hint of accusation in Mrs. Robbins’ tone. This woman was daring to challenge her about a reckless, unchaperoned ride with Renley through the rain. If she only knew the truth about the source of Rosalie’s present discomfort…the poor woman would probably die of shock.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Robbins,” she murmured, tugging loose a wilted carnation. “This position is new to me, and so are its many rules. I’ve never required a maid as a chaperone before. It was never expected of me.” She turned, placing a gentle hand on the lady’s wrist. “I will not risk the honor of this house by riding unchaperoned again.”
Mrs. Robbins sniffed. “Well then,” was her only reply.
Rosalie did her best to stay out of the way for the rest of the morning. By eleven o’clock, she was alone in the library on her hands and knees, pulling loose one of the large leather-bound books from a lower shelf. It claimed to be a ledger documenting all the artworks collected by the Fifth Duke during his Grand Tour. The book was wedged in tightly between several other thick volumes. She gave it a tug, pulling it free at last.
“You naughty little cabbage,” a deep voice called from across the room.
She gasped. Rising up to her knees, her head swiveled to face the voice. Standing in the open doorway was the duke, looking as rakish as ever.
The more she got to know them, the more she saw the resemblance between George and James Corbin. James was taller and wider in the shoulder, his hair more auburn than brown, and with a bit more of a curl. And his eyes were a deep, forest green, while the duke had blue eyes a near perfect match to their mother.
Rosalie sucked in a breath and scrambled to her feet, dropping into a little curtsy. “Your Grace.”
“Don’t ‘Your Grace’ me, Cabbage,” the duke said with a grin. “I’m on to your games now. You think I don’t know this little engagement party was all your idea?”
Her heart pounded. Was she in trouble? “I—”
He held up a hand to stay her. His signet ring flashed in the sunlight. “Don’t bother denying it. My brother is many things, but a surprise party planner is not one of them.” He pointed a finger at her, giving it a wiggle. “No, this was all your little scheme.”
She set the heavy book down. “Your Grace, I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“Offended?” He let out a barking laugh. “Whyever would I be offended that you’re using me as your excuse to cover the tracks of your salacious midnight escape?”
“Heavens,” she said on a breath. “Is that how it’s being described?”
His smirk widened. “By some. By me, certainly.” He came around the sofa. “It’s quite brilliant, your idea. It obfuscates all manner of sin.” He cast her a knowing look.
She did her best to look blankly back at him, even while her heart raced. She never knew how to act around this man. One minute he would be taciturn and sullen, making little conversation. The next he could be found bouncing on his heels, juggling candlesticks, and rutting into maids. He lived his life in the extremes—pleasure and pain, boredom and excitement.
He sank onto the sofa and crossed his legs, watching her intently. “I must admit, I never expected a pretty little cabbage like you to buy off a duke. It’s quite scandalous.”
She opened and shut her mouth twice, searching for the words to reply. “Your Grace, I assure you, there is nothing—”
“As I say,” he went on, raising his hand again to silence her. “I do not care to know. All I care about is that I will get to see James dressed and polished and forced to fawn over me for a whole evening. His low spirits are sure to lift mine sky high.”
Rosalie couldn’t hide her own smile now. He was teasing her. Would he dare let himself be teased in return? She stepped around the opposite sofa and sat, flashing him a conspiratorial look. “There will be a fire-eater.”
He leaned forward, eyes wide. “Tell me more.”
She feigned indignation, crossing her ams. “I couldn’t possibly, Your Grace. That would ruin the surprise.”
He laughed, one arm stretched over the back of the sofa. “I am looking forward to it immensely.”
She glanced over at the clock. “We were not expecting you to arrive so soon, sir.”
He just shrugged. “Mama loathes taking the journey in one swoop. We started last night and were obliged to stop at an inn where I was force-fed a very questionable cut of mutton with salty potatoes.” His face pinched with disgust.
Rosalie was quite sure the potatoes were reasonably seasoned, George Corbin was just used to having all his meals prepared by a French chef. “And who made the journey with you, sir?”
“Oh, we were a proper caravan, like Moses leading his people out of Egypt. Can’t bloody escape them,” he added under his breath.
“Will the Nashes be staying here?” She hadn’t quite gotten a read on Piety Nash, or her twin sister Prudence…other than that they were ambitious social climbers. If Rosalie planned to make her life here with the Corbins, she’d need to establish a good working relationship with the soon-to-be lady of the house.
“Naturally, my intended will stay here,” he replied dispassionately. “There is much to plan. And the Marchioness and Burke’s lovely intended are here.” He ticked the people off on his fingers, oblivious to the way Rosalie stiffened. “Viscount Raleigh took his wife and daughter home, but they’ll no doubt be joining in the festivities.”
Rosalie’s heart gave a sad little flutter. Of all the house guests at Alcott Hall, Madeline Blaire was the only other person she genuinely liked…outside of her gentlemen, of course.
“The Oswalds were all too happy to be invited,” the duke went on, confirming her fears. Blanche Oswald was one of the silliest girls she’d ever met. “And Countess Waverley and her daughters couldn’t take a hint. The countess even rode in our carriage. I blame you for that, as mama must have a female travel companion. Is that not meant to be your job now?” He raised an accusing brow at her.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she murmured. “The events of that night were not…I regret causing any humiliation or frustration.”
He got to his feet, and she did the same. He eyed her curiously. “You don’t have to stand when I stand, you know.”
“It feels odd to stay seated in your presence, sir,” she admitted. She didn’t like being told she was deficient in manners twice in one morning. Swallowing her frustration she added, “If I do wrong, please continue to instruct me. I’ll learn the rules eventually.”
He lowered his brows, his mouth tipping up on one side. “Yes…but will you ever actually follow them? For those are two different talents, Cabbage.”
She met his gaze, seeing the playfulness there. Why was he being so cordial to her? The last time they spoke in private, he demanded to know his mother’s secrets. She didn’t like worrying about having to unravel his motives. Surely there could be none, for she was nothing to him. He must be teasing because she was an easy target.
“Well, I must carry on,” he said, breaking his gaze away from her. “Lots to do when you’re a duke, eh? Never enough time in the day.”
She dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace.”
He snorted a little laugh as he turned away. “Lesson number two: you don’t need to curtsy to me when we’re alone,” he called over his shoulder. “Oh—” He paused at doorway and turned, that rakish smile back on his face. “I suppose I should have said this from the first, but my dear mama is asking for you.”
