On Monday evening, Hoxley House hosted a concert featuring the works of Haydn. While most attendees enjoyed the musical selection, one Graceful lord was so displeased he left mid-sonata by way of a window. And he was not alone. The identity of the mysterious ward at C— House is not yet known, but one can only wonder if Miss P— N— is aware of her new competition.
“Well, Miss Harrow? Have you seen today’s news?”
Rosalie slapped her gossip pamphlet shut as Piety sat down next to her at the breakfast table. She tucked the rag under the table on her lap, placing her napkin over it. At the same time, Piety unfurled a copy of The Times and laid it atop Rosalie’s half-finished plate of eggs and sausages.
“What do you think?” Piety cooed, tapping the top article.
Rosalie read the headline announcing the Duke of Norland’s upcoming marriage. “Well, it’s…”
“It’s absolutely wonderful,” Prudence cried.
Piety took back her paper, folding it with a satisfied smile. “I know two weeks isn’t a lot of time, but when two people are so much in love…”
“Two weeks?” This was news to Rosalie. She imagined the duke might drag this out into a much longer engagement.
Piety’s smile widened. “Oh, you hadn’t heard? Yes, papa settled it all with Her Grace yesterday. We’ll be married the week after our engagement party. Then it’s to be Lisbon for Christmas and Greece in the new year!”
“Long engagements are not to be borne,” chimed Prudence.
“Too true,” Piety replied. “And Lord James assures me you’re skilled at event planning, Miss Harrow. The Michaelmas ball was so lovely.”
“Oh, but I didn’t—”
“I’ll need you by my side through this,” Piety pressed, narrowing her eyes.
“And me too,” Prudence cooed.
“Yes, of course, dear,” said Piety, patting her sister’s hand. But then she focused her gaze back on Rosalie and let her eye drop pointedly to Rosalie’s lap.
Rosalie stilled, one hand over the napkin hiding the gossip rag.
Piety’s mask of perfection slipped as she lowered her voice. “I will not have this go wrong, Miss Harrow,” she hissed. “Do you understand me? I will be the next Duchess of Norland.”
“Of course,” Rosalie murmured. “The duke knows how lucky he is to have you.”
The lady raised a brow. “But does he truly need me if he has you?”
Rosalie clenched the pamphlet. “I am his ward,” she whispered. “There is no romantic attachment between us.”
“Thank you, Miss Harrow. That is all I needed to hear.” With a curt nod, Piety slipped off her chair and floated away.
Rosalie took a breath, watching the lady go. The last thing she wanted was to make an enemy of the future mistress of this house. She’d need to make a point to distance herself from the duke publicly to ease this tension. The engagement party was well-timed, for she could be sure to dance with Burke and Tom and any other eligible man…except James. She could not let the public see her in the arms of either Corbin brother.
By ten o’clock, the house was blissfully quiet. Even the men were out. Rosalie could sit comfortably in any room she chose, and not be bothered. She decided to search out a new book from the library. She didn’t get far before a commotion had her pausing in her steps.
A slamming door.
Shouting.
At the end of the set of ensuite rooms, James stood leaning against the open door to his study, his eyes downcast on a letter in his hand.
“Burke!” he shouted again. “Where the bloody hell is everyone?”
