To Bed a Beauty (Courtship Wars 2)

Fanny’s brows drew together. “How so?”

“She practically begged him to dance with me and then prosed on and on about what an exemplary young lady I am. His lordship could scarcely keep a straight face.”

“That is a crime indeed.”

“It is no laughing matter, Fanny!” Lily said in exasperation. “It is utterly mortifying to be dragged before an eligible nobleman and exhibited like a heifer at a fair.” Lily shifted her attention to her sister. “I came to warn you, Roslyn. Next, Winifred will be trying to arrange a match for you with Arden, for she hinted as much.”

The prospect of enduring Winifred’s machinations unsettled Roslyn, while Fanny found it highly amusing. “I doubt she will have much success,” Fanny said. “Matrons have marked Arden as a target for their unwed daughters for years. He’s been chased mercilessly by designing females of all ages since he left off short coats, yet no one has come close to catching him. Trust me, he is aware of every trick and stratagem. Not even Lady Freemantle could ensnare the elusive duke unless he wishes to be caught. Or the marquess either.”

“Even so, I don’t mean to let her carry her wretched intrigues any further,” Lily declared.

Roslyn quelled a smile at her sister’s earnestness. Lily would rather have her fingernails torn out than play the mating game that was eagerly embraced by most young ladies of quality.

“It would be impolite,” Lily added, “to abandon the celebrations before the late supper is served, but afterward…I hope to convince Tess that we should leave early. I trust you don’t mind, Roslyn. I will be happy to return tomorrow to help you put the Hall to rights again, but you will have to excuse me tonight.”

The two sisters planned to spend tonight at the house of their close friend, Tess Blanchard, to give the newlyweds privacy on their wedding night. It would only be for this one night, since Arabella and Marcus would embark on their wedding trip tomorrow morning. “I don’t mind if you go home early with Tess, Lily, but I will need to remain until the last guests depart.”

“Perhaps you can ask Winifred to take you to Tess’s in her carriage. Her ladyship will stay till the last dance, if I know her.”

“Winifred won’t mind, I’m certain,” Roslyn said. “But you and I should say farewell privately to Arabella before you go.”

“Of course.” Lily offered her a smile of gratitude and relief and then rose to her feet. “Pray excuse me. I need to find Tess and ask

her to sacrifice for me just this once. She was so looking forward to this evening, and I hate to spoil her enjoyment. But now the pleasure is entirely spoiled for me, too. At least Tess will likely sympathize with my plight, since she has been the victim of Winifred’s maddening matchmaking schemes before.”

Fanny rose also. “I had best go myself, since I have promised dances to several gentlemen, and I cannot afford to disappoint them. May I bring you some punch or a glass of wine first, Roslyn?”

“Thank you, no, Fanny. I need to check in on the kitchens shortly to be certain the preparations for supper are proceeding smoothly, but for the moment, I only want to sit quietly.”

When her sister and friend were gone, Roslyn found her gaze returning to Arabella and Marcus. Along with utter delight, she felt a wistful stab of envy at their remarkable happiness.

Oh, she enjoyed her current life, to be sure. Even before Marcus’s generous settlement, the income she earned from teaching at the academy had given her adequate financial freedom. And preparing young girls to become refined young ladies who could compete in the glittering world of the ton was very rewarding. Yet she felt something vital was missing in her life. Her sisters were infinitely dear to her, but they couldn’t fulfill her yearning for love…for a husband and children of her own.

And now that Arabella had found happiness in marriage, Roslyn’s resolve was only bolstered. She wanted to find that kind of true love for herself.

Roslyn hoped it would be with Rayne Kenyon, the Earl of Haviland. The black sheep of his illustrious family, Lord Haviland had unexpectedly inherited the title and fortune last year, which made him an extremely eligible bachelor, despite his nonconformist nature and his distaste for the trappings of the peerage.

As a rebel, he had more in common with Lily than with herself, Roslyn knew. In looks he was also very different from her. He was tall, as she was, but dark-haired, and handsome in a harsh sort of way, with a bold, masculine virility that commanded attention and respect. Yet Roslyn found herself attracted to his rugged appeal, as well as his forthright manner and his wicked sense of humor.

Because he disdained the frivolity and supercilious pretenses of the ton, Haviland had never bothered to learn the exalted social graces expected of an earl. Yet for his family’s sake, he had begun making an effort to establish himself in society.

It was his regard for family that had most impressed her. She’d seen his affection for his nephews recently when he began teaching them to swim next door. And he was quite busy these days, squiring his elderly grandmother around London. Such kindness was just the quality Roslyn wanted in a husband.

More important for her, Haviland was said to be in the market for a bride, although chiefly at his grandmother’s urging.

Roslyn’s gaze moved over the ballroom, unconsciously watching for Lord Haviland. She didn’t see him among the dancers. Perhaps she should go in search of him…

Roslyn looked up just then to see Winifred bearing down upon her with the Duke of Arden in tow. Deplorably, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. But then she pressed her lips together in vexation. After Lily’s warning, she knew precisely what Winifred intended. Regrettably, though, there was no escape.

Rising to her feet, Roslyn stood reluctantly waiting for her ladyship’s assault.

A large, ruddy-faced woman, Winifred had a booming voice and accent that betrayed her lower-class origins, but she was a kind soul and very well meaning. She’d been their dear friend and supporter for four years, ever since the disgraced Loring sisters had come to live at Danvers Hall with their step-uncle. In fact, she had been more of a mother to them than their real mother.

The summer previous to their arrival, Winifred had been widowed, a misfortune that had left her heartbroken-which was rather odd considering that hers had been an arranged marriage where she had wed far above her station. Her father, a wealthy industrialist who’d made a vast fortune with his manufacturing and mining enterprises, had purchased a baronet for her in hopes of elevating his daughter to the gentry.

Seventeen years later, Sir Rupert Freemantle had unexpectedly suffered heart failure, yet Winifred still wore the willow for him. She was dressed in the height of fashion now, but her gown of lavender crepe was the color of half-mourning. And she rarely was seen without a certain silver-enameled brooch pinned over her ample bosom in memory of her late husband, for inside was a miniature portrait of Sir Rupert. To anyone’s knowledge, Winifred had never considered remarrying, even though she was barely middle-aged now, no more than forty.

She was fingering her brooch absently when she reached Roslyn. “There you are, my dear,” Winifred exclaimed jovially. “Why are you hiding yourself away like a wallflower? You should be dancing.” Without waiting for a reply, Winifred gestured at the nobleman beside her. “Allow me to present the Duke of Arden. His grace will make you an ideal partner, so I have brought him to you.”