How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 6

“How am I to know?” She shrugged.

  “Francine.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so worried, but it isn’t because Frederick may fall in love.”

  “Of course it isn’t. I want him to fall in love—with me.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Having gauged sufficient time passing to meet her eccentric standards, Francine removed the book from beneath her bottom and replaced it on the nightstand beneath the candle.

  “Of course I want Frederick to fall in love with me.” I strode to that corner of the room, hoping to gain her full attention by standing directly in her line of vision. Even that didn’t work sometimes. I crossed my arms. “I intend to marry him.”

  “Maybe,” Francine said with a shrug. “But you don’t love him.”

  My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t form words. She didn’t believe me? Sure, I’d cried wolf a couple times with a half a dozen men over the past few years, but I’d genuinely thought I was in love. It wasn’t my fault that some action or reaction on their part had shattered that tender feeling.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I do,” she insisted.

  She met my gaze plainly, but the candlelight cast shadows across her freckle-mottled face. I couldn’t decipher her expression.

  She added, “I believed you when you said you were in love with him an hour ago. Not anymore.”

  “I never said that.”

  “You did. On the stairs.”

  I shook my head. Had I? If I had, it had been a slip of the tongue. “I fell in love with him an hour ago.”

  She nodded in agreement. “And some time between being introduced to him and braving the storm, you fell out of love with him.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  She shrugged. “It’s your mind.”

  A sharp rap at the door cut off the conversation. Before the sound dissipated, Mary thrust open the door. She carried a bundle of clothing in her hands. A threadbare white nightgown, by my guess. She stopped short when she saw me looming over Francine.

  “What happened to you?” Mary’s brusque tone cut through the air. In the corner, the maid murmured in her sleep and stirred.

  Francine shushed our friend. “Lower your voice, please. Pauline is asleep.”

  Silent, Mary raised her eyebrows at me, punctuating the question.

  I whispered, “A mishap with a bush.” I shot a warning glance at Francine. If she mentioned that I had set my sights on another suitor, Mary would go out of her way to prove that he wasn’t the right man for me. In fact, she would go out of the way to prove that he wasn’t an honorable man at all. No one could hold up to her impossible standards of manhood.

  Mary wanted to be treated as the equal of every man. She wanted to hunt, smoke, and gamble with the lot of them. Men as a whole didn’t tend to enjoy when she encroached on their territory, even if they acted gentlemanly to other women.

  With a shrug, Mary dismissed my ragged appearance. “You must have done something extraordinary to anger the bush to that extent.”

  Francine giggled. “It didn’t much like being sat on.”

  I made a face. “I didn’t land on the bush on purpose.” I changed the subject. “Mary, thank you for looking after Daisy tonight.”

  “She wasn’t too boisterous. You exaggerated.”

  I might have, but with the little sister I was familiar with, it had felt safer to exaggerate her enthusiasm than to leave Mary unprepared. “Nevertheless, it means a lot to me.”

  “You know I’m always willing to help my friends, if only you ask.”

  She lingered over the words. What was she trying to say? Slowly, I replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She held my gaze with her dark eyes for a moment more. “It worked out to my advantage, in any case. As a chaperone, I didn’t have to dance with anyone.”

  “That’s too bad,” Francine said. “I found the music to be rather lively.”

  It would be, if Daisy had played most of the night. She did nothing that wasn’t lively.

  “Lady Dunlop took no notice of me at all, for which I’m glad. The way Old Lady Gladstone was going on, she expects me to be married by the time we return.” Mary shuddered.

  I almost pitied her, but I battled the same pressure from my family to marry quickly. Mary, at least, was stubborn enough to resist the demands of her godmother. I laid my hand on her sleeve. “If Lady Dunlop tries to pair you with anyone, I’ll do my best to attract their attention to me instead.”

  A bald look of relief crossed her face. “Bless you.”

  She didn’t even berate me for the desire to marry—which in her mind was synonymous with giving myself to a man like a possession.

  I tried to smile, but my shock at her demeanor made it weak. “It’s no trouble.”

  Francine leaned back against the bed, propping herself up on her arms. “Not that it isn’t always a pleasure, but is there a reason why you’ve come to visit so late?”

  Mary turned to Francine. “Oh. Yes. Lady Dunlop has to make room for the country gentlemen and ladies who live too far to return through the storm today. She’s asked me to sleep in your room tonight. I agreed.”

  Francine shrugged. “The bed is big enough for the both of us.”

  “Good.” Mary turned her gaze on me expectantly.

  I forced a smile. “I suppose I’ll return to my room, then.”

  “Good night,” Mary said cheerfully. A suspicious edge sharpened her gaze as she absorbed my haggard appearance once more. Judging by that look, she knew my plan to ensnare a husband again, even if she didn’t know whom.

  I beat a hasty retreat. Lady Dunlop had assigned me a room only two doors down from Francine’s. I slipped inside, but stopped short when I found Emily perched on the bed, brushing out my sister’s blond hair.

  “Daisy, what are you doing here?” The words slipped out as I shut the door behind me. Babble from chattering ladies hailed more young women retiring to bed. I should have suspected from the lack of music.

  She peered over her shoulder. “Lady Dunlop asked me to sleep with you tonight, while she gives my room to someone else.”

  Apparently Mary and Francine weren’t the only pair to be asked to share a room.

  My sister wrinkled her nose. “What happened to you?”

  “A mishap with a bush,” I said. It wasn’t exactly a lie…just not the whole truth.

  She scooted to the edge of the bed and stood, despite Emily’s protests.

  “Come back, Miss Daisy. I haven’t finished with your hair.”

  “It’s well enough for the night,” Daisy said. She didn’t spare a glance for Emily.

  The maid scowled. “For you, maybe. But if you go to bed like that, you’ll have a mess of snarls in the morning. Let me set your hair in curlers.”

  Daisy pulled a face, but sat at the vanity at Emily’s urging. She pinned me to the door with her gaze.

  “What really happened?”

  Damnation. Why did I have to have sisters? I sighed. “I fell into a bush. I wasn’t lying.”

  “No,” she said, “but I know you better than you seem to think. You aren’t like Francine. You don’t go looking for plants. So how did you find yourself falling in a bush?”

  I puckered my mouth, but couldn’t think of any excuse but the truth. “I found myself locked in the withdrawing room. I climbed out the window. I didn’t know the bush had quite so many thorns or I would have thought better of it.”

  That last sentence, I directed toward Emily, who wore a puckered expression of distaste at the work I’d created for her.

  She snorted. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

  Perhaps not, but when I pursued a match, very little dissuaded me. Certainly not a locked door.

  “It was quite painful,” I said, drawing myself up.

  “Of that, I have no doubt.” Emily shook her head. She pinned a curler in place on my sister’s head with more vigor than necessary. Daisy winced.


  From Emily’s glower, she envisioned wreaking the same torture on me.

  “That dress is a mess,” Emily pointed out, with a thrust of her chin.

  Glancing down at my ragged attire, I sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  She pinned the last curler onto my sister’s head and tapped Daisy on the shoulder. Daisy leaped from the vanity and retreated across the room, happy to not be a part of the misery any longer. With a cantankerous expression, Emily pointed at the stool. I sat, cringing. This would not be pleasant.

  “Was it worth your trouble?” Emily asked, her voice deceptively light. She attacked my hair with a ferocity that scared me. Flinching, I held still as she dragged the brush through my styled curls, which had tangled during my escapade.

  “It was not,” I said glumly.

  That, at least, gentled her touch somewhat.

  “Don’t be sad,” Daisy chirped from behind me. “It’ll turn out all right.”

  I didn’t answer. Emily brushed my hair and fastened it in place with the curlers.

  When the silence stretched out too long, Daisy said, “In fact, let’s find out how it will turn out.”

  I laughed under my breath. “How do you expect to do that?”

  She dived into the corner of the room and resurfaced with the shoes she had worn this evening. “We’ll play lucky slipper.”

  A child’s fortune-telling game. It meant nothing. I accepted the slipper from her nonetheless.

  Shutting her eyes, Daisy tossed her shoe lightly into the air. It spun, landing with a thunk at her feet. She opened her eyes and clapped. “The toe is pointed toward me. I’ll be lucky in love at this house party.”

  I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. She was sixteen. She wasn’t even out in Society, let alone in a position to make an advantageous match.

  But, after Emily fixed the last curler on my head and patted my shoulder, I stood and closed my eyes, too. I pressed my lips together, keeping Frederick’s broad, tan face in my mind’s eye as I flipped the slipper into the air.

  When it landed, I opened my eyes.

  “Oh dear,” Daisy said, crouching over the shoe. “Perhaps I should have given you mine. It was luckier.”

  The slipper rested on its side, with neither the toe nor the heel pointed in my direction.

  “Well,” Daisy said as Emily scooped the shoes up and replaced them in the corner of the room. “At least it wasn’t unlucky. Maybe you’ll find yourself with someone you didn’t imagine.”

  In other words, I wasn’t destined to win a proposal from Frederick.

  I shook my head. “It’s just a silly game, Daisy. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “So you say,” she countered as she climbed into bed. “I think you need to have a little faith. We are at Lady Dunlop’s famous house party. I imagine everyone here will fall in love, at least once, throughout the week. Even you.”

  The look in her eye told me different. Especially you was what she wanted to say.

  After all, I was infamous for falling in and out of love. I wanted to find a man to love to my dying day. Was that so much to ask?

  I turned my back to Emily so she could dress me for bed, but my thoughts returned to Francine’s dour prediction. She hadn’t seemed optimistic about my chances, either.

  I fell in love quickly, but I always had a reason to fall out of it. And Frederick had given me no such reason.

  Chapter Six

  Warm sunlight bathed my face. A cloth tickled my nose. I swatted it away and rolled over. I stretched out, for the first time all night. Daisy wasn’t curled up beside me.

  “Can’t I go down to breakfast without her?” My sister whined. “You know she’s a beast to rouse in the morning.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise. Miss Rose is acting as your chaperone.” Emily’s voice, as always, was calm but firm. She often tempered Daisy’s impulsiveness.

  “But I’m hungry. The day’s halfway over.”

  I bolted upright. “What time is it?”

  Emily pulled a face. “After nine, miss. I tried to wake you at dawn, like you asked, but…”

  With a groan, I fell back on my mattress. I was too late. Given Frederick’s impatience last night, he would have left at first light. I’d lost my chance with him.

  “Get up,” Daisy pleaded, yanking my arm halfway from its socket.

  “Ouch.” I recoiled. Turning my back on her determined expression, I cocooned myself in the blankets. “Leave me alone. I’m staying abed.”

  Daisy wailed. “But we’re at the most romantic house party of the year.”

  “And the object of my affections is no longer here.”

  Silence smothered the room. Then the left side of the bed dipped with Daisy’s weight. I yelped as it carried me toward her. When I wrestled free of her sunshine-yellow skirts, I glared at her.

  Her pale blue eyes widened. “Rose, I didn’t realize you were in love.”

  So much innocence and caring shone from that gaze, I had to look away. Daisy would lose that cheerful outlook on life soon enough. I didn’t want to defile her optimism today.

  “You should have told Mama you were in love. She wouldn’t have made you come.”

  Throwing off the blankets, I stomped out of bed. Emily, with a sky-blue walking dress draped over her arm, pointed to the dressing screen in the corner. I hid behind it, thankful to be out of my sister’s piercing gaze.

  I told her, “Mama doesn’t care if I’m in love. She only cares if I marry.”

  “That’s not true—”

  I wish it wasn’t. But Mama agreed with Papa, in this case. In their eyes, I had turned down too many proposals.

  A sharp rap at the door interrupted the conversation as Emily lifted the nightgown over my head. One of the buttons snagged in my hair. I whimpered, waving my hands to signal her to stop. With the nightgown thrown over my head, blinding me, I groped for the offending button. Emily batted my hand away as she dealt with it.

  The door to the room opened, sharpening the muffled sounds of footsteps and occasional piece of chatter.

  “Are you ready for breakfast?” Mary asked, her tone as brusque as ever.

  The rustle of skirts drifted to my ears, maybe as Daisy shifted in place. “I think Rose is still dressing…”

  “Go,” I called, my voice horribly muffled. “I’ll join you momentarily.”

  “What did she say?” Mary asked.

  Emily laughed. She unsnarled the button and lifted the nightgown away from my head. “Take Miss Daisy down. I’ll be done with Miss Rose in a minute.”

  Daisy’s slippers clicked against the floor as she stepped out of the room. “Did you know Rose is in love?”

  I groaned. Daisy, why would you say that?

  Francine’s absent voice answered, almost out of earshot. “No, she’s not.”

  “What do you mean she’s not? She just told me. Give me that book. You can’t read while you’re eating.”

  Pauline’s voice entered the mix, exasperated. “Miss Francine, why did you run off? I haven’t finished with your hair.”

  “You haven’t? It looks fine.”

  “Your hair will escape your pins within the hour if I don’t add more. Come here…”

  The door to the room shut, cutting off their voices. I slumped against the dressing screen.

  Emily rapped me between the shoulders. “Posture, miss.”

  I straightened.

  “Good. Now don’t be so glum. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time at the party, if only you give it a chance.”

  I pressed my lips together. At Emily’s direction, I was dressed within minutes. She directed me to the squat little vanity. It didn’t even have a wide mirror to watch as Emily fashioned my hair. As she removed the curlers from my hair, I toyed with the oval hand mirror, flipping it to look at my reflection, and then tracing the roses embossed into the back.

  I thrust the mirror onto the vanity surface, facedown. “Take my place.”

  Emily stilled w
ith her hands wrapped around two long locks of hair. She juggled the pieces into one hand to remove the hairpins from her mouth. “I beg your pardon, my lady?”

  “Take my place.” In fact, with repetition, the desperate idea gained merit. I’d rather spend the day brooding in my room than in whatever festivities Lady Dunlop had planned. I didn’t have the energy to participate today.

  I tried to twist my head, but Emily held me firm with an iron grip on my hair.

  “I don’t resemble you,” she said.

  I waved my hand. “Of course you do. Blond, blue eyes, relatively tall. We’re interchangeable.”

  “Hardly,” she said, her voice laden with discouragement. “That tactic might work from afar or amongst people you’ve never met, but you met everyone last night. They’ll know.”

  “Maybe not. Lady Dunlop handed out quite a bit of wine and stronger spirits last night.” The lie tasted bitter. She was right; it would never work. I’d lost my chance with Frederick, and no amount of brooding would entice him back.

  When I hung my head, she tugged on my hair to straighten me.

  “What has you so glum, Miss Rose?” Her voice was muffled. She must have replaced the pins in her mouth.

  “Daisy’s right. I am in love,” I bemoaned.

  She tucked a pin into place, and removed the ones from her mouth long enough to say, “Why does that have you down? You’re always happiest when you’re in love.”

  “He doesn’t return my feelings. And now I’ll never have the chance to woo him.”

  “I thought wooing was the gentleman’s job.”

  I shook my head. She jabbed me with a pin. I winced. “Well, it is, of course. Once I convince him he must. But now he won’t have the opportunity. He returns to war,” I added, making a face.

  Emily tsked. “A soldier is not the man for you, Miss Rose. You wouldn’t be happy if he left you at home and went off to war.”

  “I could go with him,” I suggested, but the notion intrigued me not at all. In fact, I abhorred it. Maybe she was right, and Frederick wasn’t for me.

  But Francine’s mother and father were the two most different people I knew. A more successful and loving marriage I could not name, despite what Francine had to say on the matter.

  “I trust you’d give me a good recommendation.” Emily wrestled a few more strands into place. “I won’t leave England.”