In the interim, Drew wrote to her twice. Once to send her the latest volume of Cobbett’s Parliamentary History, which had only just been published. And once to lend her an extremely rare edition of Francis Bacon’s New Atlantis in the original Latin, which Drew termed merely a loan, since she didn’t like receiving expensive gifts from him.
Roslyn couldn’t help but smile at his gibe, and repaired immediately to the library to immerse herself in studying the precious little tome.
She was foolishly glad to see Drew when Monday came-and gladder still when she settled in his coach across from him, that her abigail, Nan, was there to help her observe the proprieties. Nan was the lady’s maid Marcus had hired to care for the Loring sisters’ new wardrobes and help them dress and arrange their hair. Although a bit young, she came from London and was well versed in her duties as chaperone.
In Nan’s presence, Drew kept up an easy but impersonal conversation with Roslyn. He spoke less as the morning wore on, though, and as they neared his estate, Roslyn was puzzled to note his near silence. She would have asked him about it, but with Nan listening, she had no opportunity.
The only time Drew spoke was when the carriage slowed to pass through an elaborate stone gate.
“My ancestral home,” he said tersely, staring out the window.
The park was immense, Roslyn realized after they had negotiated a winding wooded drive for more than ten minutes. And then she forgot about Drew’s silence when Arden Castle came into view.
The magnificent structure of golden stone sat gleaming on a hill in the distance. Built only two centuries before, it was nothing like a medieval castle, but rather a formal palace fit for royalty-clearly a residence belonging to the extremely wealthy aristocracy.
Roslyn saw Nan’s eyes widen in awe at the sight, and knew her own expression showed a similar admiration.
A half dozen liveried grooms and footmen rushed to meet their arrival and quickly assumed control of their horses, luggage, and servants. Drew led Roslyn up the sweeping stone steps to the enormous entry-way, where they were greeted by a stately butler, then through the majestic house to what he said was the “small” drawing room.
The interior decor was even more splendid than what she’d expected upon seeing the exterior. Every chamber she passed was lavish with brocade and gilt furnishings, gold and crystal chandeliers, and countless paintings, tapestries, and sculptures.
The richness of it all was rather intimidating, Roslyn decided even before she entered a grandiose room occupied by a tall, regal, silver-haired woman.
The duchess rose slowly, her demeanor just as imperious as Roslyn had been warned, and just as daunting. Her pale gray eyes were glacial, and so was the one word she uttered in acknowledgment of her son’s arrival: “Arden.”
“Mother,” Drew responded with equal terseness. His tone was surprisingly bland yet held no warmth, either. The strain between them was palpable, Roslyn realized as he offered his parent a stiff bow and then made the introductions.
Gracefully, but quite deliberately, the duchess raised her lorgnette to one cold gray eye to examine Roslyn.
“Good day, Miss Loring,” the noblewoman remarked superciliously. “I understand that you have ensnared my son.”
Roslyn couldn’t help her amusement at that particular choice of words, but
she was careful to keep both her expression and her tone neutral when she replied. “I hardly think ensnare is the proper word, your grace.”
“Then what would you call it?”
Doubting she would ever win the duchess’s approval, even if she prostrated herself at the disdainful noblewoman’s feet, Roslyn smiled coquettishly up at Drew. “I would call it an unexpectedly mutual attraction, your grace.”
When he smiled lazily back at her, the duchess immediately stiffened. “You can hardly expect me to welcome your betrothal, Miss Loring, when you had such infamous parents. Your entire family has been under a cloud of scandal for years.”
“That was indeed true until recently,” Roslyn agreed politely. “But my elder sister married quite respectably.”
“Yes, I know. Lord Danvers has long been an acquaintance of my son’s. Are you accomplished, Miss Loring?”
“Fairly so. I sing and play the pianoforte well. I am proficient at needlepoint and watercolors. I am fluent in French and know a smattering of Italian. Oh, and I read and speak Latin.”
“Latin?” Her tone implied disdain. “Then you have at least one thing in common with Arden.”
“Yes, we can enjoy the same books. I consider that a chief qualification for matrimonial bliss, don’t you, your grace?”
The duchess’s mouth tightened, but Roslyn returned her icy gaze evenly. She fully comprehended the noblewoman’s goal in grilling her. The duchess was trying to intimidate her into calling off the betrothal. But she had no intention of giving her satisfaction by complying.
After a moment, the duchess took another tack. “I understand you also teach at an academy for young ladies. You will of course give that up immediately now that you are betrothed.”
“Regrettably I must disappoint you, your grace. My elder sister plans to continue teaching at our academy, even though she is now a countess, and I intend to do the same if I become a duchess.”
The Duchess of Arden looked angry now. “Do you have any idea, Miss Loring, what obligation you bear if you marry into this family? You have a duty to uphold our consequence.”