shot her a quick frown. ‘Rothersthorpe is not penniless. I won’t say that he’s wealthy, exactly, but he has prospects.’
‘Prospects? What do you mean, prospects?’
‘Well, it is some kind of uncle, or cousin, or something. I’m not sure of the exact details. But it is well known that some elderly bachelor related to him has decided to make him his heir, since he has no other. Rothersthorpe stands to inherit mills and mines and what-have-you from him. Because of the way he turned his own estates around.’
‘He did what?’
‘I know. Hard to believe of the young scapegrace we knew back then, isn’t it? But apparently, when his father died, Rothersthorpe worked like the very devil to bring his holdings back from the verge of bankruptcy.’
Hard to believe? Impossible to believe! He’d been hopeless with money. And as for working, at any level, let alone like a devil…no, she just could not credit it.
‘Rose could do a lot worse,’ he said thoughtfully, his eyes following the couple as they conversed whilst passing each other in the set.
‘Y-you mean, you seriously think that Rose, and Lord Rothersthorpe…’
‘I don’t see why not. You heard what he said. He’s obviously come to town to look for a bride.’
Rose and Lord Rothersthorpe. Her head began to spin. It couldn’t be…
And yet they did make an extraordinarily handsome couple—him with his fair athleticism, and her with all her dark, spirited beauty.
‘I’ve seen it before with men of his class,’ Robert continued. ‘All of a sudden, they abandon their wild ways, make themselves a list of the qualities they want from a wife and come up to town to find a woman who has them. At least if Rothersthorpe does start to court her in earnest, we can rest assured that he wants her for herself. He has no pressing need of her fortune.’
Robert might as well have slapped her repeatedly in the face as deliver all those salient facts in such a blunt manner.
Eight years ago, Rothersthorpe had been so terrified of the prospect of matrimony that he’d fled at the mere mention of something that might have put him in danger of getting leg-shackled. But during the years they’d been apart, he’d turned his fortunes around through dint of hard work. And now he’d come to town to crown his achievements by acquiring a wife to preserve his proud lineage.
She did not need to ask Robert what Lord Rothersthorpe would require of a wife. Her own chaperon, Mrs Westerly, had told her often enough. Men of rank wanted an ornament to grace their house. And a substantial portion to swell their coffers. They also wanted a woman in the full bloom of health, so that they could be fairly sure of getting heirs and spares.
But, above all, they wanted a virgin.
She forced herself to watch Rose and Lord Rothersthorpe, as they circled one another on the dance floor, though their delight in each other was making her feel so old, and unwanted, and unattractive. And second-hand, to boot. She knew that she was not completely worthless in the scheme of things, but now her value was more like that of a chipped vase. One that had been removed from the best rooms and put to utilitarian purpose in the kitchens.
And she would just have to accept it.
They had all come to town, after all, to see if Rose could find a man who would want her for herself.
If it had been anyone but Rothersthorpe showing an interest in her, anyone but he who’d broken through Robert’s defences, she would be thrilled. He was exactly the kind of man they had hoped she would find.
She should be smiling with approval as they twirled round the ballroom with their arms round each other’s waists.
It was what everyone would expect from her.
So she smiled. And waved her fan indolently before her cheeks, as though everything was as it should be. Whilst inside…
She’d got out of the habit of pretending to be content with her lot, that was the trouble. Since Colonel Morgan’s death, she hadn’t had to pretend quite so often.
Well, she’d have to get back in the habit, that was all. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil Rose’s Season. Rose needed her to stand up to Robert and be her friend and advisor, not start acting like a silly, jealous schoolgirl.
She pulled on her social armour, rather in the same way she would have reached for a fire screen to shield herself from the heat of a blazing fire. And after a while, her smile began to feel less forced. Her manner towards Robert became more natural as she obliged him to chat of this and that.
Mrs Westerly would have been proud of her. She was elegant and poised. It might only be on the outside, but at least nobody, looking at her, would ever guess she felt as though she had been fatally wounded.
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