Page 36 of A Duke to Elude (Sherton Sisters 1)

Chapter Twelve

Rosabel felt as though her entire person were quivering. She had never told anyone other than Sally. They had agreed that it was in everyone’s best interests if they kept it a secret. She knew it was irrational to be filled with fear over it now. With how much time had passed, it might not ruin her. But any whiff of scandal around any debutante had the potential of growing in dimension if the wrong person decided to make noise about it. For her own part, Rosabel would almost prefer being done with Society, so the thought of her own ruination wasn’t such a dreadful thing, but she couldn’t allow that to affect Hilaria and Vicky. Even the little girls still at home would be affected if their oldest sister were ruined.

But the duke’s warm hand wrapped around her own felt like the safest haven, even though he was the cause of her dismay.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Rosabel started to speak.

“It was the third week of my first Season. I was just as wide-eyed and eager as any young provincial girl in her first Season. I almost never thought before I spoke, but I had been raised to be polite so, I never put myself beyond the pale. I was meeting new people every day, and I was certain I would find the love of my life at the very next event I attended. When I think of the girl that I was, I wish I could protect her. Make her stay back at Glendale, perhaps marry the squire from the next county instead of going to London for this ridiculous Season.”

James’ hand tightened on hers. “I remember that girl. She was a beautiful youngster.”

“But practically a child, she was.”

“As are most debutantes.”

She met his gaze, trying to delay her tale a moment. “Don’t you think that should be outlawed? Shouldn’t debutantes have to be a bit older?”

“How old would you think appropriate?”

Rosabel shrugged, realizing that it wasn’t necessarily her age that had been the problem but the very sheltered nature of her upbringing.

“I do think many of the debutantes are a wee bit too young. Why Lana Bridgestone is only seventeen, I believe. But perhaps it’s lack of education rather than youth that is the real dilemma.”

“What happened, Rosabel? Tell me now and get it over with. What did Prescott do? I swear to you, I’ll never allow him or anyone else to hurt you again.”

Bel smiled over the adamant tone in Wexford’s voice even if she didn’t quite believe he could accomplish the deed. She found she didn’t quite fully trust any man any longer. Her eyes had been opened two and a half years ago in a way she didn’t like. But it was sweet of Wexford to say so anyway.

With a slight shake of her head, Rosabel continued her disjointed tale.

“I didn’t really realize that the Season revolved around the sitting of the House of Lords. I rather thought it was the other way around. That the Lords just happened to sit as they had nothing else to do. From the female perspective, the balls and routs and breakfasts and such are the center of focus. But the true reason, as I’m sure you are well aware, is all about the government and how the power can be brokered and garnered.”

From what she could see of Wexford’s face, Rosabel knew he never thought otherwise. Bel’s lips twisted into a wry smile. Of course, she doubted Wexford had ever had a foolish day in his life. She sighed softly. That was probably as it should be, but she couldn’t say the same, unfortunately.

“All the trappings of the Season are to keep the females occupied while the menfolk are running the country. And, of course, the most necessary process of arranging for the next generation of noblemen to run the country through suitable matches.”

Rosabel no longer noticed the passing scenery or even the occasional birdsong. All her attention was focused on Wexford’s concerned gaze and the warm clasp of his hand. Vaguely she was aware of Sally’s labored breathing as she anxiously relived Bel’s story with her. Or perhaps, Rosabel thought, that anxious breathing was her own. Perhaps she had lost all her hard-earned control and self-possession. If so, it was all Wexford’s fault. She would rebuild it if she had to. She had done it once; she could do it again. She carried on.

“Anyhow, in my ignorance and youth, thinking the Season was all about me and the fairy tale happy ending I was expecting, I paid little attention to my father’s whereabouts. He would often escort my mother and me to balls, but he didn’t hang on our skirts in the least, always going off to the card room or wherever else he could find the men he needed to convince of something or other. I know that now.”

“Rosabel, my dear girl, I am sure every debutante has felt the same way. It is a rare female who takes an interest in the politics of the sessions. You were not foolish to think that. For you, that was the point.”

“Thank you for saying so, but if I had been more aware, I would have understood why Prescott was showing such an interest in me.”

Bel was gratified to see the anger that blazed in Wexford’s eyes. The continued firm grasp of his hand helped her to know it wasn’t directed at her.

“What did he do, Rosabel? Get it said. Dragging it out is only prolonging your pain.”

“Like pulling out a splinter, do you think, Your Grace? Unfortunately, I don’t think you’re right. Dragging it out might prolong my embarrassment in front of you, but it has been paining for two and a half years, that’s not likely to end with the telling.”

“You might be surprised.”

His answer was dark and sent a more violent shiver through Rosabel’s already quivering frame, but it was not unpleasant, as she knew it was on her behalf rather than directed at her. She liked it more than she should. But she couldn’t allow herself to be foolish over another man. Not that she had ever been attracted to Prescott. She told the duke so.

“Don’t misunderstand. I did think he was trying to court me, but I wasn’t overjoyed about it.”

“Was it Prescott that made you decide you didn’t want to wed a noble?”

Rosabel was surprised to hear a laugh come out of her throat and wondered how she could be amused at a moment like that.

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