Page 127 of Rogue of My Heart

Rebecca looked around the crowded room. “I’m certain he cannot.”

“No matter. I find Lord Owens and all the other soldiers to be quite honorable. They are heroes. We should be happy to dance with any one of them.”

“A dance could lead to more and more could lead to heartache. I shall not, will not, do that to myself.”

“Do not be so harsh,” Phoebe said.

It wasn’t that Rebecca disliked soldiers. She simply could not abide putting herself through more unnecessary heartache. Her brother, like all soldier’s had been brave if not foolish and his death still caused her pain—it always would.

“There is nothing heroic about death and chaos.” Rebecca glanced at her twin, noting the sparkle dancing in her eyes.

For an instant, a pang of envy struck her. Despite being twins, Rebecca had always thought Phoebe was much prettier. She took after their mother, nearly a head shorter, with the kind of build that made gentlemen naturally protective. Her hazel eyes suited her thick chestnut locks. Rebecca, on the other hand, resembled their father, too tall to be fashionable, with straight blonde hair she could never get to hold a curl.

“Nonsense.” Phoebe stepped away to join Lord Owens before Rebecca could say more. Not that her stubborn sister would listen, anyway. What a ninny to so happily offer herself up to heartbreak and abandonment!

Well, not Rebecca. She’d had all she was willing to take of war and soldiers. She’d not be made a widow at the end of some enemy’s weapon. Life would not find her as it had her sister-in-law, Daphne. The poor lady was barely wed to Rebecca’s brother long enough to be with child when Roland was called away to fight. Now she found herself a widow raising a wee one without a father, all because her husband had chosen to purchase a commission in the British Army.

Pushing the dreadful memory aside, she fanned herself while she moved through the crush of people toward the refreshment table. Between the guests crowded into the room and the warm summer temperatures, the ball had become quite stifling. Humidity caused sweat to form at the back of Rebecca’s neck where her hair was gathered in a chignon.

Someone rested a hand on her shoulder, stopping her halfway to the refreshment table.

“Rebecca darling, I’d like to introduce you to Lord Fredrickson.”

Drat. So much for avoiding mother’s matchmaking. Rebecca ground her teeth before turning to face mother with a fake grin pasted onto her lips. Mother smiled back with mischief dancing in her hazel gaze.

Rebecca nodded stiffly at the tall man beside Mother. He was well built, with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame. She had to admit he was rather dashing. His black hair, with a hint of grey at the temples, shone in the candlelight while his brown eyes reflected warmth.

Nonetheless, he was not for her.

“Lord Fredrickson served with Roland in the second regiment and has just returned from Waterloo.” Mother glanced up at the gentleman, admiration shining in her gaze.

“How fortunate.” Rebecca let the smile fall from her lips. “Did you know my brother well? Roland was not so lucky as you, my lord. He is never to return to us.”

Mother inhaled sharply. “Rebecca.”

Lord Fredrickson’s mouth pulled into a wince at Rebecca’s words. “I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, my lord.” She turned to her mother. “I fear I have come down with a headache. Might I retire to my rooms?”

Mother touched a gloved hand to Rebecca’s brow. “Very well, darling. I’ll send a maid up with something to soothe the ache.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Rebecca offered Lord Fredrickson a curt nod, then took her leave. Her head did not truly throb, but she’d found herself desperate to escape the crush. She simply said the first thing that came to mind.

Thank heavens it worked.

Phoebe stepped in front of her just as she reached the door leading from the crowded ballroom. “Where are you off to now?”

“I have a headache.” Rebecca forced herself to ignore the inclination to avert her gaze.

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “No, you don’t. Tell me you are not planning to sneak off to Almerry.”

“Of course not. I simply cannot tolerate one more moment of this ball. I’m going to bed.”

“You can’t fool me. I know you’re considering a trek to the castle. At least wait for the morrow.”

Phoebe knew Rebecca well. It would do her no good to argue over her intentions, as her sister would see right through whatever Rebecca said. “I considered it, but have changed my mind.”

“What a relief.” Phoebe grinned. “Might you reconsider your stance on mother’s party as well? If you would allow yourself to have some fun, you might find it tolerable, after all. There are many gentlemen here who did not fight in the war.”