Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
She touched her lips, remembering the kiss they’d shared the day before. Well, mostly respectful. She was the one who’d thrown herself into his arms and lifted her face, needing and wanting, and when his lips had touched hers, she felt she was the one who’d lost control. Only his embrace had kept her grounded to the earth. She could still feel his arm around her, his hair against her face, the tension in his fingers, the insistent tutoring of his lips. She’d never imagined kissing could feel like you were dying and soaring at once.
The house was quiet. From her chamber’s open door, she could hear Marlow admitted to the parlor below, and hear him greeting her parents. She felt mad with anxiety and hope. Please, please…
She waited anxiously but was not summoned to join them in the parlor. It wasn’t polite to listen at doors, but she couldn’t stay away while such a monumental discussion was embarked upon. She crept down the main stairs, silent on her slippers, ignored by the servants though they surely noted her.
She did not care. She went into the smaller withdrawing room adjoining the main parlor, to the place she knew one might listen in on amusing calls and adult conversations. A trick of acoustics amplified the voices so an eavesdropper might almost be in the room. She stood leaning against the wall, listening.
Hoping.
They were still exchanging niceties, news of Marlow’s sisters, Ella, who lived in France, and Amelia, who’d just had a child. His brother Dennis was still at university, yes, still enjoying his studies. He politely asked her parents about her many siblings too, her gadabout brothers, her sisters Felicity and Belinda, while Rosalind dug her fingers into her palms to control her impatience. Please get to it. Please ask.
Finally, he cleared his throat and asked about Rosalind. He sounded nervous. Her heart seemed to beat triple fast. She placed her hand over it and listened to their conversation about her. He said what a pleasure it was to see her at Bouncer’s memorial gathering the previous afternoon. Behind her wall, Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut, hoping, praying again. Please, God. Please, of all things…
“I must tell you, Your Graces, that my affections for Rosalind have deepened to such a degree that I felt I must call upon you and express how strongly I feel.”
Oh, that was well said, thought Rosalind.
“We do love her very much.” That was her mother’s voice. “She is our youngest, you know.”
“You have been a friend to Rosalind for a long time.” Her father now. “It’s only natural that you would hold her in such high regard.”
There was a pause. Rosalind pressed her hand over her heart.
“Indeed, I—I do hold her in high regard. More than that, I have—I have given some consideration to whether we might make a match. Our families are so close.”
“Perhaps too close,” her mother murmured.
“I don’t pretend that I would be the most worthy or elevated candidate for her hand, but I can say in all certainty that I love Rosalind, and I believe those feelings are returned on her part.”
“Come now. Love?” Her father forced a laugh. She did not like the sound of it. “Rosalind is so young. She has not yet made her debut. Her mother and I are aware she’s fancied herself ‘in love’ with you for some time now, but it’s our view she’s too young to really know her heart.”
“She’s barely been out in society,” her mother echoed. “As for these feelings of love, she’s never been courted by you or any other. Dear Marlow, I must concur with my husband. She’s not ready yet to receive a proposal of marriage.”
“Might I ask to court her this season, then? To prove myself worthy of her hand?”
Another wretched silence. Her father cleared his throat.
“We esteem you greatly, Lord Marlow,” said her father. “You’re a fine fellow and Townsend’s closest friend, but I can’t grant you permission to court my daughter at this time. Perhaps in the future.”
“Yes, dear Marlow.” Her mother’s bright, kind voice couldn’t compensate for how poorly they were treating him. The future? Her parents had already practically written her marriage contract to Lord Brittingham. They’d recommended him as an excellent prospect during her earlier audience, as if the thought of some bland, lofty peer might erase all she felt for Lord Marlow.
“I understand your perspective,” he said, his voice sounding tighter than usual.
“We perceive you do not like it,” said her mother, still kind. “But you must understand—”
“My lady, I do, in fact, understand. I thank you nonetheless for receiving me today.”
Rosalind stood, incredulous, listening to her parents’ quiet words, nice words, bidding Lord Marlow to enjoy the remainder of his day as if they hadn’t just cut him to nothing. He’d said it would happen, but she hadn’t wanted to believe. She was moving, striding, sailing through the door into the parlor before she thought how shocking it would seem for her to burst from the adjoining room.