Page 58 of The Perfect Rose

Rose slammed the book shut and heat rushed through her chest. This was someone’s private communication. But why was it in a book of Romeo and Juliet? She brushed the edges of the pages across the pad of her right thumb toward the end of the “book.” She opened it. Empty parchment looked back at her. Hmm, there was only one person Rose could imagine to be “M” as it was in Miriam’s possession. And the “S” was most certainly the duke. Who would have guessed that he was not above risking a scandal just to be able to write in secret correspondence?

No doubt it was Miriam who prompted the idea. She seemed prepared to buck society’s standards when they did not comply with her own agenda. It was Miriam who had gone behind her brother’s back to invite Rose to the house party after all. Or could it have been the duke? Either way, it didn’t matter. Rose idly flipped through the pages, not trying to make out the words, but finding joy in seeing evidence of the duke’s regard for Miriam. A name popped out on the top of a page. Rose’s breath stopped. She turned back one page to the name that stilled her heart. Her own.

Lord Hanby bets Mr. Copley one hundred guineas to one that he will be wed to Lady Rose Gardner before Christmas of this year.

May 13, 1811.

Lord Hanby made a bet that Rose would be married to him? How entirely outrageous! And only a day after her mother had doubled her dowry. To be the brunt of a bet and for one hundred guineas . . . Rose felt sick. But she continued reading. She had to know why it was that she was included in this letter.

I came across this entry in the betting book at White’s. I believe Lord Hanby would appreciate an invitation to your house party. He would perhaps make Lady Rose a good partner. And if Lady Rose’s lack of marriage is frustrating to you, this could solve your problem.

So, it was the duke that had given Miriam the idea to invite Lord Hanby . . . because Lady Rose’s lack of marriage was frustrating. Rose recalled the conversation she had had with Frederick by the river. He’d said that Miriam had felt overlooked because Lady Rose was considered to be the diamond of the season. This was only more evidence of those same feelings. Although she was fairly certain Miriam had changed her feelings toward Rose since this letter was written, it didn’t hurt less to see evidence of her own perceived character over the course of the past season. Her eyes went, unbidden, to another entry.

All is going according to plan. Lord Hanby is finally showing Lady Rose a modicum of attention. I don’t know why he sat back for so many days if he truly intends to marry her. However, something is wrong with F. I can’t comprehend why he has decided to pay her mind as well. I fear that he will end up having another Kendra experience. Kendra was always manipulating F. to do her bidding, always so concerned about herself. Do you see Lady Rose the same way? Or am I just jealous of her beauty and accomplishments. No, don’t answer that, I know that I am. Try to forgive me. One day, I’ll be more like her . . . would you like that? F. has promised me that he won’t marry her either way.

Rose snapped the book closed. She’d read enough. More than enough. Her hopes for Frederick to overcome his aversion to marriage were futile. Frederick Hastings was loyal, and he’d made a promise to his sister not to marry Rose specifically. The revelation stilled her heart. Was Mr. Owen Redford her only chance at finding a respectable marriage after all? And was it fair for Rose to even consider accepting him if she didn’t return his feelings in the same way?

Rose chaffed at how Miriam and other women had perceived her these past months. It was no wonder she’d never made any female friends. They all disliked her at best because she excelled in the social whirl. But none of them knew the truth of the matter. None of them understood the isolation and expectations set upon her. Rose wouldn’t wish that level of obedience on the other girls. But it seemed it had made them jealous.

But it was more than their jealousy that had prompted their dislike of her, it was her own coldness. How could Rose have been so self-absorbed as to not to understand how her actions were affecting others? It was no wonder Frederick had avoided her all season. It would have been torturous for him to be associated with someone as selfish as Rose Gardner. Rose stashed the book at the back of her chest of drawers, next to her ridiculous list of marriageable prospects at the house party. She would not leave it to chance, for if her mother found that book, what would happen to Miriam?

She crawled into her bed and threw the covers over her head. She really did need a nap. The events of the past five minutes had been more exhausting than a day amid the social whirl of London.

“Time to get up, Rose.” Rose’s mother shook her from her nap. “What were you thinking? Going to sleep on a day like today. Your lady’s maid will have to restyle your hair completely.”

Rose rubbed at her eyes and sighed. It was time to prepare for the ball. And she had no doubt now that Lord Hanby planned on proposing. After all his halfhearted and occasionally possessive attention to her, he would ask for her hand because he’d bet a small fortune in the betting book at White’s. She stifled a groan. It would do her no good to put her mother in a bad mood. Once again, Rose stashed her feelings deep down and played the part of perfect daughter. “I’m sorry mother. I didn’t want to exhaust myself too early this evening.”

Her mother laid out Rose’s ball gown on the back of a chair. It was, by far, Rose’s most elaborate gown. The white satin reflected any light in a brilliant sheen and Rose had embroidered delicate pink, purple, and yellow flowers running along a brilliant green vine twisting all around the hem of the skirt and the shoulders. The sash was pink with white daisies embroidered along the edges, and the neckline reached wide along her shoulders. The real beauty had been embroidering a tiny glass bead into the center of each and every flower. The reflection of the beads made the dress look like it shimmered like freshly fallen snow when the sunshine hit it just right. Truth be told, Rose loved this gown. It had brought her so much joy over the course of the season as she adorned it.

After her underskirts were in place, her lady’s maid pulled the work of art over Rose’s head and secured it with the sash. She turned to face her mother. “How does it look?”

Lady Gardner swallowed visibly and put a hand to her bosom. “Rose.” She shook her head. “The dress is just as it should be. It shows off your figure to perfection and your embroidery is well done. But your hair is still a disaster, and we need to add some jewelry for it to really make a statement.”

“Yes, mother.” Rose turned her face away. It shouldn’t have surprised her that her mother didn’t give her the compliment she’d wanted. What was well done was well done: there was obviously no need for her mother to gab on about it. But the fact that she didn’t still stung. This dress was a little piece of Rose, her best work, and it still wasn’t enough to draw the attention Rose sought.

She sat on a stool while her lady’s maid arranged her hair with curling tongs and pins and flowers atop her head. Her mother brought over a case of pink tourmaline and diamond encrusted jewelry: a simple strand of the pink gems for a necklace with matching drop earrings and a tiara. The elaborate jewelry alone was a beacon signaling just how much Rose was worth. The gems would be worth a not-so-small fortune.

Rose looked at herself in the mirror. If only she could put on a shield from society now as easily as she had in the past. This house party had changed her vision of herself. Where she once saw a confident debutante, perfectly put together for a ball, she now saw a vulnerable young woman, hiding behind a beautiful mask.

Her mother looked her over from crown to toe and nodded in approval. “I will meet you in the ballroom. But Rose, remember . . . tonight is the last night of your season. I expect at least one proposal. If the duke proposes to you at any point, you must accept him. If anyone else asks for your hand, you must tell them you will make your decision after you have consulted with me.”

Rose only nodded her understanding.

For Rose, the choice was clear. If Mr. Frederick Hastings miraculously changed his mind about her and asked for her hand in marriage, Rose planned to accept him. He was, after all, the only gentleman who knew her well enough to understand her, as Lady Gilfordshire had put it. And although Rose had no practice as a wife, she hoped he would trust her enough to believe in her and take a leap of faith so contrary to his life’s experiences as to allow her to try. If there was anything Rose knew how to do, it was to learn and practice to be the best at something.

When Rose exited her room, she followed the sounds of a string quartet tuning their instruments. The ballroom had been thus far unused, although Rose had looked in on the high-ceilinged room. The doors had been barred to anyone besides Miriam and the household staff for the past two days as the decorations were put up. Rose was excited to see what Miriam had dreamed up for the event.

Miss Haybury stepped out of her room as Rose passed her door in the corridor.

“Good evening, Miss Haybury. Your dress is beautiful.” Rose complimented her. The blonde-haired beauty was dressed in the palest blue with navy embellishments. True to form, there were far too many of them, but for a ball gown, the ornamentation fit the situation better than most of her gowns.

Miss Haybury pursed her lips together. “Thank you.” She fidgeted with her gloves. “Oh, I have forgotten . . . something. I will meet you downstairs.” She snapped the door closed in Rose’s face.

Rose sighed as she continued toward the ballroom. It seemed Miss Haybury wasn’t feeling at all friendly. She turned the corner to descend the stairs and froze. Miriam had arranged a strand of pink roses to be strung along the bottom of the handrail leading downstairs. Rose smiled as she went down the steps, her gaze caught solely upon the flowers that so beautifully set the stage for a ball.

Chapter Forty

Rose hadn’t seen Frederick when she’d begun descending the staircase. Instead of her catching his eye and walking toward him as he’d pictured, she’d smiled at the chain of roses hanging from the handrail. Reality was so much better than what Frederick imagined at times. This was certainly one of those times. This way, Frederick was allowed a few moments to appreciate just how beautiful Rose Gardner was. Her smile, for no one but herself, was as radiant as a sunbeam. The gown she wore matched the flowers along the rail, and she held herself with a level of calm he’d not anticipated for the evening.