Page 25 of The Pureblood Princess
“I’d like to see it, if I may.” Nadia glances down, trying to keep mist from her eyes. “And would it be possible to... get it back?”
Lord Rosetti’s dark brows rise. “You want Thornwood?” He shakes his head a moment later. “Well, of course you do. It’s your ancestral home, after all. But getting it back may not be so easy; your parents had no other children or male relatives that I know of, so it’s likely the estate is being held by the executor of your father’s will.”
Nadia twists her hands in her lap, unsure what that means. Lord Rosetti seems to understand, for he smiles gently.
“I’ll look into it. If there’s a way to get it back, I’ll do so.”
“Thank you, Lord Rosetti. I appreciate that.”
There’s a swift knock on the door, and then it opens to admit Benjamin. He carries a letter tray balanced on one hand, his other held behind his back.
“A letter has arrived, my lord,” he says, moving briskly across the dining room and then bending for Lord Rosetti to pluck the letter from the tray.
As Benjamin leaves the room once more, Lord Rosetti opens the letter and begins to read.
“Well, Papa?” Luca asks, a dab of jam upon his chin. “Who’s it from?”
The earl studies the letter a moment longer, and his brow furrows. “It’s from the brotherhood.” When he looks up, his eyes find Nadia, and everyone else follows his gaze. “They’ve heard of you, Miss Magdalena, and they wish for you to attend the annual gala. You’re to be an honored guest.”
Nadia’s stomach drops.
“How wonderful!” Contessa says, seeming to come alive at the news. She sets her cup on the table and leans forward excitedly. “Oh, you’re going to love it. We’ll have to pick the perfect gown for the occasion. Mama, we need to write to Mrs. McDonald right away.”
“I already have.” Lady Rosetti smiles her coy smile, her dark hair slipping over her shoulder as she tips her head to one side.
“You knew they would be writing to us?” Lord Rosetti asks, holding the parchment out to his wife. She takes it from him and skims the page.
“Of course, dear. Miss Magdalena is the most interesting thing to happen to us in the last decade. How could they not?”
“Six decades together, and you never cease to amaze me.” Lord Rosetti stands from his chair and presses a kiss to Lady Rosetti’s lips, and the children make an uproar of displeased sounds.
“Oh, you hush!” Contessa says lightly. “If you’re all lucky, you’ll have someone to kiss you like that one day.”
“Gross!” Luca says, scrubbing his arm across his mouth as if disgusted by the very idea.
The young siblings launch into childish banter, and amidst their laughter, Theodore moves to come around the table and take the open seat beside Nadia.
“Are you all right?” he asks, reaching out to touch Nadia’s hand. She releases her fist to allow his fingers to weave through hers. “You look bothered.”
“I’m fine. Just a touch nervous is all.”
His concerned look shifts into a smile, and he runs his thumb gently across her hand. “You have nothing to be worried about. The brotherhood is not so terrifying as they like everyone to believe. Be yourself, and they’ll all fall in love with you, just like I did.”
Chapter Nine
“The gala will be unlikeanything you ever experienced in Everborough,” Contessa says just before pressing a tiny honey cake into her mouth. She stands before a full-length mirror in the drawing room, and the modiste, Mrs. McDonald, moves around her, taking measurements and jotting numbers down in a tiny notebook.
“What should I expect?” Nadia asks. She sits on a settee nearby, a glass of red wine in hand.
The other women share glances, their lips turning up in the corners.
“Dancing, socializing—it’s just another ball,” Lady Rosetti says. She stands alongside the mirror, an open fan in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She’s dressed as elegantly as ever, her gown a rich blue and her dark hair pinned up in complex braids and curls.
Contessa scoffs, drawing a sharp look from her mother. “As far as I’m aware,” she says, holding her arms up for Mrs. McDonald to measure her bust, “balls in Everborough don’t have quite as much blood and debauchery.”
Lady Rosetti snaps her fan closed and strikes Contessa across the backside, eliciting a squeal.
“Mother!” Contessa rubs the spot her mother struck.
