Page 2 of The Perfect Rose

She flipped her gaze between her parents and saw that although her father was uncomfortable, he would not be coming to her rescue. Not that she was surprised, her hope had been small. He’d never stood up to his wife before, and an overabundance of funds was almost always his answer to problems. Rose dipped a curtsey and bade them goodnight, knowing full well that attempting to defend herself further would only do more harm to her battered pride.

When her maid finally left her and she was tucked into her enormous bed, she allowed her facade to crumble. All her life, she’d been pruned to be perfect. And she had failed miserably. All the painstaking hours spent with her governess going over histories and manners were futile. She tugged at her covers and choked back tears. No gentlemen had befriended her, let alone courted her. She was, in essence, not enough. Again. She stared blankly up at the ceiling of her room searching for an answer, for the fault that made her so undesirable, but could think of nothing. She refused to cry. It would only prove just how weak she was. Instead, she adjusted her duck-feather pillow more violently than necessary and fell asleep reliving every moment of the ball, dissecting her own every word and move.

Chapter Two

Frederick Hastings examined the unfortunate luck that he held in the form of cards. Winning this trick was not at all likely. He laughed to himself.

“You’re giving away your hand Freddy,” the Duke of Gilfordshire chastened. The duke, or Samuel to Frederick, was his partner in whist.

“Am I? I thought my laughter would serve merely to confuse our opponents. Now what am I to do to amend my behavior? Dance a jig?” The legs of his chair scraped against the ground as he stood, drawing the attention of more gentlemen than were at their small table. Frederick proceeded to do just as he proposed and danced a quick jig. Some gentlemen to his right started clapping a beat for him, so he continued on, grinning ear to ear, and finished his short spectacle with a flourishing bow.

Samuel stood, laughing, and excused the pair of them from their game. “It seems this gentleman is in the wrong room. The ladies need you in the ballroom.”

Frederick smiled at each of the smartly dressed gentlemen he passed and saw only mirrored expressions in return. He enjoyed the fact that he could make people smile. He knew quite well that he sometimes acted ridiculous, but to get a person to smile . . . that was worth it.

A wave of heat rushed at Frederick’s face as he entered the ballroom. A lively country dance swarmed in the middle of the room, and watchful mothers smiled at their charges. But the one face he was looking for was missing. “Samuel, do you see that sister of mine? I left her in the care of your mother before we went into the card room.” Frederick continued to scan the sea of couples dancing but did not see Miriam anywhere.

“She is over near the refreshment table. And she looks quite put out, if you ask me.”

He was right. Miriam’s heart-shaped face was flushed, but not in a pretty way. She looked as if she’d like to murder someone. “I may need some assistance for this one, Samuel. Won’t you come talk her down with me?”

“Lead on.”

It had always seemed odd that the duke himself would choose to follow Frederick anywhere. But it had been that way since he could remember. Samuel had arrived at school friendless and a duke at the age of ten. Boys, being boys and wanting to establish dominance, had not been friendly to His Grace. Befriending him would have been all too easy, but pride and jealousy outweighed the other boys’ good sense. Frederick had impulsively chosen the duke as his next target: someone he would make smile. His plan had failed miserably. But he’d succeeded in winning the duke’s friendship, and the two had been inseparable ever since. All thanks to a well-placed frog.

Frederick smiled at Miriam, and she flashed fire back at him. “Who is it, Miriam? Just say the word and I will call him out. No one ought to have treated you so poorly so as to leave you looking like you will erupt into flames.”

She planted her hands on her hips and looked heavenward as if pleading for patience. “Frederick Hastings, where have you been? I needed your help. But now you are too late. All the gentlemen I wanted to dance with have vanished, thanks to that abominable Lady Rose taking her leave early.”

Samuel stepped up and bowed to Miriam. “Miss Hastings, good evening. I’m sorry to hear that Lady Rose made another dramatic exit. Who was it you were hoping to dance with? Perhaps we could call them back.”

Miriam’s flush turned genuine. “Thank you, Your Grace. But it wasn’t actually anyone specific. I just don’t understand it. One woman leaves the ball, and half the gentlemen leave as well. As if it wasn’t worth attending at all.” She sighed, effectively dousing the fire in her eyes.

Miriam had always been kinder to Samuel than to himself. It was one of the misfortunes that came with being her brother. She loved him, but she was more immune than most to his attempts to bring out a smile.

Samuel bowed over her hand. “Some gentlemen can’t see clearly, Miss Hastings. Luckily for you, I have excellent sight, and I am looking at a woman with whom I would very much like to dance. Will you accept?”

He looked into her eyes and Frederick watched the embers of her emotions fade into humility. “It is not necessary to ask me to dance to placate me, Your Grace.”

“Miss Hastings, have you not learned by now that I am two things: honest and quite determined. I would not do you the dishonor of asking for a dance if I did not honestly want it.”

She pulled her lips between her teeth but her eyes glittered.

Frederick breathed easier. “There’s nothing to it but to accept him, Miriam. I’ll be waiting my turn for a dance the next time you aren’t spoken for.” He watched his friend escort his sister to the floor and smiled. Another crisis averted.

If only he’d been able to avoid some of his past crises where the fairer sex were concerned as easily. Two years ago, Kendra had opened his eyes to what snakes women could be. Now, he feared he’d forever see Kendra and her dishonesty in every female he met. It wasn’t a comforting thought, so he avoided women if he could.

As he stood, watching Miriam, in her stunning lavender gown, glide across the dance floor on the arm of his best friend, he shook thoughts of Kendra from his head. Miriam was honest; she deserved an entire ballroom full of gentlemen seeking her out. Yet she was left with what was left over after Lady Rose’s departure.

If Frederick gave Lady Rose the benefit of doubt, perhaps she did not understand what enemies she had made this season amongst the other women. But Frederick was certain that her mother, Lady Gardner, knew exactly what she was doing. They left every ball early, and they made a scene with each departure; the Countess Gardner cleared the dance floor, walking straight through it as if no mass of people danced in her way, Lady Rose following in her wake.

Frederick looked out at the couples dancing in time; he pictured the path the Gardner women might have taken to cut through the organized chaos. Lady Rose Gardner always left with her head held high, and Frederick liked to watch her walk, which was a problem. Lady Rose was the most graceful woman he had ever set eyes on . . . an even bigger problem. Granted, it was an easily-avoided problem, he’d successfully evaded her for the entirety of the season thus far after their initial brief introduction.

Besides, it didn’t matter that she was beautiful; her smile never reached her eyes. Even if he did fall into the trap of watching her from a distance from time to time, he could never imagine spending much time with someone who lacked any real joy in her countenance.

He looked to the outer edges of the large room. Surely, Miriam was not the only woman so frustrated by the way the evening had turned. Upon a quick inspection, there were at least five young ladies not dancing. He rolled his shoulders back. He may not have any desire to marry, but he had no compunction with helping someone have a good time.

Frederick opened the Times as he sat in the library of his London rooms the next afternoon. He’d spent the morning writing back to the steward over his estate in Hereford. Apparently, the Redford home had flooded again. As the neighboring family had recently retrenched, Frederick requested for his steward to send over some hands to help with the needed flooding repairs. If the Redfords would accept more help, he would give it, but they wanted to work through their troubles on their own. He respected their dedication and suspected that it was a matter of pride, trying to undo the effects of the poor decisions of their ancestors.