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Chapter

Two

LADY CHOLMONDLEY-SMITH’S BALL

G oing by the crush of bodies in Lady Cholmondley-Smith’s ballroom, the second ball of the season was a smashing success. One could hardly walk through the throng without the fear of stepping on toes.

If I had my druthers, I would have gladly stayed home, reading a book, while enjoying a cup of strong tea. But as Chrissie’s older sister, I had a duty to perform—shepherding her through the myriad of social events. Even this early in the season, she’d proven to be a popular debutante. So much so, her dance card had been filled within minutes of our arrival. It didn’t surprise me in the least. She was beautiful, intelligent, and a wonderful conversationalist, mainly because she let the gentlemen do all the talking. As long as she listened, nodded, and occasionally exclaimed, “How wonderful,” they were satisfied.

“Heavens, what a crush!” Lady Claire Edmunds exclaimed once we found each other. One of my closest friends, she and I had made our debut eight years ago. Highly sought after during that season, she’d received several offers of marriage. Her father had chosen a wealthy marquis in need of an heir. The fact he’d been in his fifties, drank copiously, and suffered from gout had not been taken into account. Two years ago, he’d keeled over during a vigorous bout of lovemaking, leaving Lady Claire with a country estate, a Mayfair mansion, and a generous widow’s jointure.

“It is rather,” I answered vigorously fanning myself. Due to the multitude of bodies, the air was downright steamy, something I abhorred. “Let us walk toward the terrace. There should be cooler air there by its doors.”

“You do look a bit flushed.” After linking arms, we made our way around the perimeter of the room. Along the way, we were greeted with nods and smiles, but didn’t stop until we reached our destination.

The air indeed was noticeably cooler by the terrace, even though its doors remained closed. “Oh, that’s better.” I never could stand the heat.

“You’d think with this many people there’d be at least one interesting man in sight,” Claire said, glancing around.

A grieving widow, she was not. And I couldn’t blame her. After years of servitude to a randy peer, she was thoroughly enjoying her freedom.

Her gaze suddenly narrowed. “Oh, wait. One just arrived.”

“Who?”

“The Duke of Steele. By the receiving line.” She turned to me. “You’ve heard of him, of course.”

“Actually, I’ve made his acquaintance. We were both at Needham Manor during the festivities surrounding Lady Eleanor’s Christmas Ball.” Lady Eleanor, my dearest friend, had not only invited me but demanded I attend, claiming I needed a respite from my familial duties.

“You didn’t share that news with me,” Claire said, somewhat surprised.

Knowing she would make a great deal of it, I’d decided to keep my own counsel. But, of course, I couldn’t tell her that. Last thing I wanted was to hurt her feelings. “I’ve been so busy with Chrissie’s debut, it slipped my mind.”

She accepted my explanation with an amused smile. But clearly, her curiosity had been piqued. “So, how did you find him?”

“Aloof. Arrogant.” And much too fascinating. But Lady Claire did not need to know that last part.

My friend glanced toward the receiving line once more. “Yes, he does have that reputation. He’s also reportedly brilliant.”

“So I’ve heard.” Actually, I had not only heard but knew. Just prior to my arrival at Needham Manor, Lady Eleanor’s diamond necklace had been stolen. The duke and I had both been asked to investigate. The successful conclusion of the matter, and our roles in it, had been kept from the holiday guests to keep the scandal from leaking out. But I’d discovered he was indeed highly intelligent. Unfortunately, he’d also turned out to be charming and fascinating. To tell the truth, he’d rather unsettled me. Once the festivities ended, I’d been glad to return home.

“He’s rather striking, don’t you think?”

Yes, he was. But I had no desire to share that opinion with Claire. She would make much more of it than I desired. So I simply asked another question. “You can see him from here?” We were standing on the opposite side of the room. With the press of bodies between us and the entrance, it would be difficult to note anyone’s presence.

“You can’t miss him as tall as he is, and then there’s that white streak in his dark hair.” She turned back to me. “Rumor has it he’s in between mistresses at the moment.”

That got my attention. “How do you know such a thing?”

“Afternoon teas. You’d know as well if you involved yourself in something other than children’s nappies and women’s suffrage.”

“I’ve never been interested in gossip. And I’ll have you know not one of my siblings is still in leading strings, much less nappies.”

“But you do dedicate a huge amount of time to women’s suffrage.”

“Of course, I do. How else are we going to obtain the vote unless we keep pushing for it?” I let out a frustrated sigh. “We missed you at the meeting this week.”

She raised and lowered both shoulders. “I was at the modiste. It was the only time she could fit me in.” She squeezed my arm. “I promise to make the next one.”

“Ummm,” was my only response. She did support the cause, not as fervently as I did, but enough.

Her avid gaze returned to the receiving line. “The duke is quite in demand, you know. Every hostess worth her salt has sent him an invitation to her ball. It’s quite a coup for Lady Cholmondley-Smith that he honored her with his presence.”

“Why do they desire his attendance?” True, he was a duke, but so were others. What made him such a hoped-for guest?

She smirked. “Other than he’s a duke who inherited the vast Steele fortune, you mean?”

Of course, she’d know all about that. But I couldn’t let her get the better of me. “Yes. Other than that.”

“He’s a widower with no heir to the title. Other than his younger brothers, that is. Sooner or later, he must marry if he wants the Steele line to continue through him.”

I’d discovered last Christmas he had no desire to marry again. But apparently, most of society, including Claire, were not aware of this. “So every lady in search of a husband has set her sights on him?”

“Exactly. As soon as our hostess let it be known he would be in attendance, every unattached female in town clamored for an invitation.”

“That would explain the crush,” I said, gazing around the room.

“It would be no hardship to be married to such a man. Not only would his wife be a duchess, but she’d be well entertained in bed.”

My gaze snapped back to her. “I thought you despised marital relations.”

“My husband was in his fifties, who had . . . difficulty performing, although it didn’t stop him from trying. If rumors are anything to go by, Steele does not suffer from such a problem. Just the opposite, in fact.”

“How do you know?”

She turned back to me. “Ladies talk, Rosalynd.”

“What ladies?”

“The ones who’ve bedded him, of course.”

“So he hops from bed to bed pleasuring ladies along the way? He must be quite busy.”

“He has mistresses.”

“More than one?” Steele had to have superb stamina.

She laughed. “Not at the same time. Honestly, Rosalynd, you have to socialize more. Then you’d learn a thing or two.”

As busy as I was, the last thing I wanted was to engage in more social activities than I already did.

“In truth, I think he misses his wife,” Claire continued. “She died in childbirth after only one year of marriage. Don’t you recall? It was in all the papers.”

At Needham Manor, I’d learned about his previous marriage, but not the circumstances surrounding his wife’s death. Eager to learn more, I asked, “When was this?”

“About twelve years ago.”

That explained why I hadn’t heard about it at that time. “I would have been fourteen then. At that time, my only interests were my studies.” Papa had been adamant about his daughters receiving the same education as his sons. Well, as much as could be managed. I was denied the privilege of enrolling at Oxford as that august university has not seen fit to admit women to its curriculum of study. “Papa hired the finest tutors for me.”

“While my father insisted I make myself agreeable to marriage-inclined gentlemen of the nobility.”

“At fourteen?”

Her mouth twisted with distaste. “Never too young to learn, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t care if they were young and handsome or decrepit old prunes. All he concerned himself with was the size of their purses and how much they were willing to pay for my favors in their bed. As soon as I made my debut, Edmunds submitted the highest bid. He was desperate for an heir, and thought a young wife would provide that for him.” She glanced down. “It didn’t, but not for his lack of effort.”

I squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.” Thankfully, I did not have to endure that fate. Papa had insisted on a debut season. But he’d left it up to me to decide who, and if, I wanted to marry. Even at eighteen years of age, I’d had no desire to put myself under a man’s dominion.

Claire turned her attention back to the entrance. “Not every woman suffers in their marriage. The duke’s, by all accounts, was a love match on both sides. They married before the season was over. He’s still grieving for her, so much so he refuses to marry again. Many a single lady in this room would love to change his mind.”

So ladies did know. They just sought to convince him to try again. “Why is he attending this ball, do you think?” Could he be in search of a new mistress as Claire claimed? Somehow, I doubted it.

She glanced off toward the receiving line once more. “I think he’s here for political reasons. He’s a leader at the House of Lords, you know. He might be trying to convince a few peers to vote for a measure he favors or vote against one he doesn’t.”

A gentleman I recognized suddenly emerged from the crowd. “Lady Rosalynd.”

“Lord Selfgren.” I plastered on a smile. “How pleasant to see you.” Eight years ago, he’d asked Father for my hand in marriage. I’d turned him down, and he’d gone on to marry another lady. Sadly, she’d passed away a year ago.

“May I have the pleasure of this dance?” he asked.

The last thing I wished to do with the ballroom as crowded as it was. “I would prefer a promenade. It’s such a crush,” I said, nodding to the throng of dancers.

“As you wish. Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

As we made our way around the perimeter of the room, our conversation proceeded along the usual rules of etiquette. We both hoped we were in good health. I asked about his family. To my surprise, he talked about his children at some length. Clearly, they were very dear to him. “Little Johnny is almost seven, and Isabelle is a very precocious five. She’s already reading.”

“How marvelous.”

“The twins just turned two. They’re coming along.”

“Splendid.”

After guiding us to a spot empty of guests, he drew our stroll to a halt and faced me. “How is your family faring?”

I shared general details about my sisters and brothers.

“And Rosehaven? Is he still deep in the weeds as it were?”

An odd way to refer to my brother’s love of botany. “He is.”

“A splendid hobby that. Is there a Lady Rosehaven on the horizon?”

“Not as far as I know. Cosmos is deeply devoted to his studies of flora.” Where was he going with this discussion?

“You must desire to manage your own household rather than your brother’s.”

Ahh. It now became clear. He was looking for a mother for his children. But I would not do. “Actually, I’m quite pleased with my arrangement. Forgive me, Lord Selfgren, but I’m growing quite heated. Could I beg you to fetch me a glass of lemonade?”

His mouth turned down, no doubt with disappointment, as he likely desired to continue our discussion. Still, he offered a polite reply. “Of course, Lady Rosalynd.” And, after a bow, off he went.

As soon as he was out of sight, I escaped into a corridor that ran alongside the ballroom. Thankfully, it was empty and, surprisingly, much cooler. There had to be a door or a window open to the elements somewhere close by. As I meandered down the hallway in search of the source, I heard male voices coming from one of the rooms. I would have continued with my exploration if not for the sudden mention of my name.

“Lady Rosalynd, Rosehaven’s sister, submitted a petition to the House of Lords. She wants the legislation committee to introduce a measure to grant ladies the vote. She wrote it under the auspices of the Society for the Advancement of Women. Have you ever heard a sillier name?”

“Heard worse,” a deep voice I recognized said, even as a chorus of laughter broke out among the gentlemen.

“Surely, you have no interest in introducing a bill to give women suffrage, Steele.”

“I don’t.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Ladies should concern themselves with the begetting of children,” the first male voice asserted. “After all, that’s why we marry them. And leave the management of the country to us.”

“Hear, hear!” another gentleman said.

“How did you dispose of the petition?” the Duke of Steele, he of the deep voice, asked.

“I tossed it into the fireplace and watched it burn.”

As another round of laughter circled the group of men, my breath hitched. I’d labored on that proposal for hours only to have it laughed at and consigned to the flames. I was so angry I could barely breathe.

“You’re awfully silent, Steele,” the braggart said. “You don’t agree with my disposition of the letter?”

“Lady Rosalynd will be expecting an answer.”

“You handle it. After all, you’re a member of the legislation committee as well. I’m off to the card room. Anyone care to join me in a game of whist?”

Every man seemed to agree with the suggestion. Only the Duke of Steele declined.

Their fading voices hinted at another exit from the room. Just as well. If they had come my way, I would not have been able to contain my fury. How dare they treat our petition so cavalierly?

“Lady Rosalynd! There you are! I’ve been searching for you.” Lord Selfgren had found me. He was holding two glasses of lemonade and sporting a silly grin.

I couldn’t inflict my ire on him. He had done nothing wrong. “I do apologize, Lord Selfgren. I needed the services of a maid in the withdrawing room. My gown had suffered a torn flounce.”

“Ah, I see. Are you still eager for a lemonade? I fear it’s grown lukewarm.”

I forced a smile to my face. “No matter, sir. I thank you for it.” I took the glass and drank half of it. Warm it may have been, but it did quench my thirst.

When the strains of a waltz reached us, Lord Selfgren’s head snapped up. “I’m afraid I must leave you. I promised a lady this dance.”

Thank goodness. I was in no mood to continue our inane conversation. Still, I had to be polite. “Don’t think anything of it, milord. Thank you for fetching the drink. It was quite refreshing.”

“Until we meet again, milady.” He offered an elegant bow and, with a spritely step, returned to the ballroom in search of another candidate to mother his children. Whoever he chose would indeed be fortunate, as Lord Selfgren was not a bad sort. He was kind, held a title, and possessed a very comfortable fortune. But none of those attributes would tempt me to marry.

I dropped my now-empty glass on a tray strategically located by a potted plant and walked toward the space where I’d left Claire. But I encountered her before I arrived.

“Where have you been?” she asked.

I pulled her aside. “You know how they say you shouldn’t eavesdrop when someone mentions your name?”

“Because you won’t hear a good thing about you?”

“Yes.”

“Who? What?”

“A few so-called gentlemen in a room off the side corridor. I didn’t mean to listen, but?—”

Claire grabbed my arm. “Why, I’ll be! He’s walking toward us.”

“Who?”

“The Duke of Steele.”

Much too soon, he was in front of us. A tall, broad-shouldered presence who blocked everyone behind him from view. Everything about him was daunting, from his towering height to his commanding physique. Much as every other gentleman in the room, he was dressed in formal evening clothes. But while most other men’s attire somehow seemed pedestrian, his were the epitome of sophistication and elegance. While I was busy taking his measure, he offered a very fine leg to my friend. “Lady Edmunds.”

She curtsied in turn. “Your Grace.”

Time seemed to stand still as his silver gaze found me. Unsettling and mesmerizing, it left me both strangely exposed and drawn to him. As it had done in the past.

“Lady Rosalynd,” his deep voice sent shivers down my spine. After he bowed and I curtsied, he held out his hand. “Would you honor me with a dance?”

Not likely. “I’m afraid I’m?—”

Digging an elbow into my side, Claire answered for me. “She’d be happy to.”

I shot her an incendiary glance. But the truth of the matter was I had no recourse but to accept his offer, even as I wondered why he’d made it in the first place.

Unfortunately, the dance was a waltz, a particular aversion of mine. Not only that, I was roasting. “The ballroom is rather warm, Your Grace. Would you mind if we moved closer to the terrace? Our hostess seems to have thrown open the doors. It should provide cooler air.”

“As you wish.”

I rested my hand on the arm he extended, and together we made our way in that direction.

During our walk, we maintained silence. Seemingly, he’d reached the same conclusion I had. No sense talking when all around us, guests were practically shouting to make themselves heard. Once we arrived at a space that was blessedly devoid of people, he stopped and turned to me. “Will this do, Lady Rosalynd?”

“Yes, thank you.” I gazed pointedly at him. “Why did you ask me to dance, Your Grace?”

He appeared to be momentarily taken aback by my question. Still, he answered me readily enough. “It is the thing one does at a ball, is it not?”

“And yet, I sense you have a specific purpose.”

He offered a subdued, controlled upturn of the lips. Not the first time I’d seen that gesture on him. “I believe you overheard a conversation about the petition you submitted to the House of Lords.”

“You’re right. I did. How did you know?”

“Selfgren called out your name. Once your conversation with him ended, I followed you.”

“For what reason? Surely not to claim a dance. You’re not in the market for a wife. And I wouldn’t qualify as a mistress.”

His silver gaze grew flinty. “You’re angry.”

“How very observant of you,” I spat out through gritted teeth. “But you’re wrong. I’m not angry. I’m furious. How dare you think women are too stupid to vote?”

“I did not say that.”

“No, you didn’t. But when another so-called gentleman espoused that view, you did not disagree.”

“I’m depending on that gentleman’s vote for a measure I favor. He would not vote my way if I contradicted his opinion in public.” A logical, sound explanation, which I was not inclined to placidly accept.

“Fine. So what is your thinking about women’s suffrage?”

“It won’t happen. At least not in this century. Members of the House of Lords believe women lack the education to make informed decisions.”

“And whose fault is that, I ask you, sir?” My voice rose with the anger and frustration I’d been feeling since I heard my petition had been so ignominiously tossed into the fire. “If gentlemen don’t educate their daughters, our only recourse is to educate ourselves. Of course, many fathers would never allow that. As far as they’re concerned, the only skills a lady needs are embroidery, playing the pianoforte, and dancing. Oh, and making herself agreeable to marriage-minded gentlemen who are only interested in one thing, providing them with a bloody heir.”

He arched a brow. “Etiquette and comportment seemed to have gone missing from your curriculum, I see.”

“As well as yours. A gentleman would not toss that insult to a lady’s face.”

“Rosalynd!” Grandmother’s voice stopped me cold. Her flushed face and snapping eyes spoke volumes about her state of mind. “What in heaven’s name are you doing? You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” she hissed as she closed on me, heavily leaning on her cane.

Suddenly, I became aware that the music had stopped. Most of the guests around us stood open-mouthed, ogling the duke and me.

Grandmother curtsied to the duke, or tried to. Her creaking knees would not cooperate. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace.”

“No need to, Lady Rosehaven.” He bowed to both of us. “Your servant, ladies.” And then he strode off through the path the throng made for him as if he were the Prince of Wales himself.

“Honestly.” They should just drop to their knees and lick his boots.

Grandmother wrapped an arm around mine and hauled me off. For an elderly lady, she had a mighty strong grip.

“Where are we going, Grandmother?”

“We’re leaving. Smile and nod. If not for yourself, for your sister.”

I did as I was told, only to be met by a sea of frowns and snickers, with Claire the only friendly face. After collecting Chrissie, we walked out of the ballroom with our heads held high.

Only when we were ensconced in the Rosehaven carriage did Chrissie ask, “Why did we leave so early?” She was right. It wasn’t even midnight. Balls usually lasted until three in the morning.

“Your sister decided to make a cake out of herself.”

“What happened?” Chrissie asked, her eyes sparking with curiosity.

“I quarreled with the Duke of Steele in the ballroom in front of the entire assemblage.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s an ass.”

Chrissie giggled. “Oh, my.”

Grandmother stamped her cane on the carriage floor. “Young lady, your sister may have very well ruined your chances of making an advantageous match.”

Chrissie hitched up her chin as she curled her arm around mine. “If a gentleman is so easily dissuaded against offering for me by a public quarrel, then I want no part of him.”

I patted her hand. “Thank you, Chrissie. But Grandmother is right. I did make a spectacle of myself.”

“If you did, you must have had a good reason.”

I spilled the sorry tale of what I’d overheard and the quarrel in the ballroom with the duke.

“You’ll need to apologize to him, Rosalynd,” Grandmother said.

“I’ll write him a note.”

“A personal apology would be better.”

“I don’t see how that can be achieved. I can’t very well visit him.” Ladies of quality did not call upon gentlemen of the nobility. Not unless they wanted their reputations ruined.

She sighed. “I suppose a note will have to do.”

Now all I had to do was find a way to apologize without revealing I wasn’t the least bit sorry.