“Well, then, to what do I owe the pleasure now?”
“My lady,” Mr. Wiggins said, nodding solemnly as though he were about to deliver a grand proclamation. “We came to see you off.”
See her off?
“You look lovely,” Mr. Wiggins finished, nodding, satisfied.
Ben nodded frantically.
Rosilee raised an eyebrow, managing a small smile. An odd feeling rose within her. “Well, thank you, I suppose. What about the duke?”
“He is waiting downstairs for you, my lady.”
So, it’s time.
She clutched at her chest. “What if no one asks me to dance?” The thought of standing alone amidst the swirling couples was rather frightening. It was, after all, her first ball she would be attending here in London. It was thrilling and bittersweet at the same time.
Mrs. Prune laughed. “Then you ask someone.”
“I cannot do that!”
“You can ask the duke,” Mrs. Wiggins said, a knowing smile formed on his lips. “He will oblige you.”
The kiss flashed in her mind, and she felt her cheeks heat. “I suppose I could do that,” she muttered, averting her gaze.
“Our duke is an excellent dancer,” Mrs. Prune said. “Though he might be a bit rusty, so forgive any blunders.”
Rosilee wanted to laugh. Well, she had come this far, she could handle a dance, couldn’t she? In fact, dancing with him might just be the thing to lighten his mood.
Ben gave an eager nod. “And if you stumble, you can just blame it on His Grace.”
Rosilee did laugh then, the sound ringing out more confidently than she felt. “I might just do that.”
Mrs. Prune clapped her hands together. “Now, no more fretting. It’s time to go to the ball and get your man.”
Get her man? Why did that sound a bit off to her ears?
“Oh, don’t look like that,” Mrs. Prune said. “Ben told us why you are in London. We are certainly cheering for you.”
“Thank you, I suppose.”
Rosilee stood, adjusting her gown with a final check in the mirror. She hardly recognized the woman staring back at her. But perhaps that was what she needed.Thiswas the woman who was going to save her brother and their home.
She turned to the trio. “I believe you’ve managed to calm my nerves more effectively than even my brother’s brandy would have.”
A knock on the door sounded, and Rosilee’s gaze fell on a large silhouette filling the doorway.
Her breath caught.
Good Lord in Heaven.
The duke—who was decidedlynotwaiting downstairs—cut a striking figure in his evening attire. Not just striking, but downright spellbinding. Rosilee could hardly tear her gaze awayfrom him. He still had a day’s growth of stubble on his jawline, but his hair had been arranged in an elegant, fashionable style, giving him a slightly—slightly—more youthful appearance.
“What’s all this?” the duke asked, his gaze flicking over everyone gathered in the chamber.
“We were just collecting Lady Rosilee,” Mrs. Prune said with a big smile. “Why are you here? Weren’t you waiting downstairs, Your Grace?”
The duke tugged at his cravat. “You were taking too long.”
