In the upstairs corridor, Christopher came striding up to join her. “Everything go all right?”
“Yes.” She directed a look at Rose’s back as she continued walking ahead of them. “Surprisingly, without any problem.”
Rose paused outside her door, cast them a distinctly superior look, then opened the door and went in. Ellen exchanged a long-suffering look with Christopher and followed.
When, minutes later, the three of them rejoined the others in the front hall, the relief engulfing the company—excepting only Rose and presumably Nigel and Tilly, the latter two of whom had already been escorted back to their rooms—was profound.
Louisa raised her voice and thanked all the staff and the dealers, who were being put up at the Hall.
“We’ve met our first challenge,” Drake added. “Now, we need to forge on.”
Rose was duly loaded into a carriage and, along with two burly footmen from the manor, driven away to be returned to her “cell.” After chatting with Mr. Kirkpatrick and Julia and consulting with Secombe as to whether any aspect might be improved for the second of the card parties, Drake, Louisa, Toby, and Carter climbed into Louisa’s carriage and set off for their beds.
Robbie took his leave of Mr. Kirkpatrick and Julia, mounted his roan, and after Ellen assured him she would be perfectly safe walking through the orchards, pointing out that Christopher had remained to escort her home, Robbie met Christopher’s gaze, then dipped his head and turned his horse for Bigfield House.
It was long after one o’clock, yet the moon still sailed the sky, providing sufficient illumination to light their way. After farewelling Mr. Kirkpatrick and Julia, Christopher and Ellen set out along the path that led to the rear of the Goffard Hall gardens, then wended through the Bigfield House orchards, all the way to the rear of the house.
Once they were out of sight of the Hall, Christopher caught Ellen’s hand. The quiet of the countryside wrapped about them as they walked on.
Eventually, he said, “I really don’t like the fact that it has to be you who sticks to Rose’s side. I don’t trust her.”
“No more do I.” Ellen glanced at his face and noted that his jaw was clenched. “But you were in the musicians’ gallery—you must have been able to see us for much of the time.”
“Believe me, that didn’t make things any easier.”
The tone in which the words were growled made her think back over all that had occurred…
She smiled, then chuckled and airily asked, “Did you see those silly young men falling over their feet, trying to fix my attention?”
From the corner of her eye, she noted the sharp glance he shot her; pretending she hadn’t, she smiled widely. “One of them compared my ribbon rosettes”—she gestured to her bodice—“to roses and the lace to the tracery of butterflies’ wings.”
“Good God.” He sounded appalled.
“Oh, that wasn’t the most outrageous compliment—not by any means. I particularly liked the remark about my eyes being green topazes, which I’m not sure exist, and then there was the argument over whether the exact shade of my hair was guinea gold or ripening wheat.”
He snorted, and she continued, relating some of the more fanciful flights of adoration her would-be admirers had indulged in; while he’d been able to see the young men fawning over her, he hadn’t been able to hear what was said. By the time they reached the Bigfield House shrubbery, he’d relaxed and was smiling and chuckling, too.
They went inside and up the stairs to her room. Once the door was shut, she turned in to his arms, raised her face for his kiss, and proceeded to remind and reassure him in the most effective way she knew that she was his, and he was hers, not just for that night but forevermore.
On Thursday evening, the second card party commenced with a considerably greater degree of assurance on the part of all those tasked with ensuring that Drake’s plan succeeded.
Once again, Ellen accompanied Rose to her room, where her dresser, Archer, assisted her erstwhile mistress to change into a suitable evening gown—this one in striking emerald-green silk—and to put up her hair and don her jewels so that she could fulfill her prescribed role of hostess.
Ellen sat in an armchair and watched the transformation.
The previous day—during which they were supposed to catch their breath—had, indeed, been spent in that vein. Christopher had ridden over from the manor in the late morning, just in time to give Robbie the benefit of his advice regarding how best to organize the workers to bring in the hops, which were ripening nicely on the vine.
He’d commended Robbie for making plans ahead of time, which had made her brother stand taller and left her even more grateful for Christopher’s arrival. He’d stayed for much of the day, spending hours chatting with her uncle, even though it hadn’t been a particularly good day in terms of her uncle’s understanding.
Later, Christopher had ridden home to dine, and later still, he’d returned on foot via the shrubbery. She had been waiting by the long pool to walk with him to her room; what had followed had, at least to her mind but she hoped to his as well, set the seal on their relaxing day.
Midmorning today had seen them all back at the Hall to check over the preparations and ensure that all was well. As satisfied as they could be, they’d retreated to the manor to wait until it was time to dress and return to face the challenge of the second of the card parties.
Ellen kept a watchful eye on the interaction between Rose and Archer. She’d remembered Julia mentioning that Archer wasn’t a local but had come with Rose to Goffard Hall; as with most dressers, Archer’s loyalties very likely still lay with her mistress. But beyond the usual exchanges over which gown to wear and the style of Rose’s hair—and a whispered discussion that Ellen hadn’t quite caught, conducted over the contents of Rose’s jewel box—the pair hadn’t attempted any more-secretive or suspicious communication.
That said, from the narrow-eyed looks Archer threw her way, Ellen suspected that, if given the chance, Archer would do all she could to aid her mistress to escape her self-made snare.
She and Rose descended the stairs in good time to greet the first of the guests. The first party had seen a total of ninety-three attendees; that number was soon surpassed as more carriages drew up in the forecourt and disgorged more and more eager-eyed young gentlemen.
Rose and Nigel’s boast that they had whipped up interest in the three successive card parties hadn’t been an idle one.
Although rather more confident in her role the second time around, Ellen remained alert and watchful, by her very close presence reminding Rose that she wasn’t in any way free to divulge her true situation to anyone.
Yet once again, Rose toed their line—more correctly Drake’s line—without any backsliding. Although she kept her guard high, Ellen seized appropriate moments to gauge the reactions of the young gentlemen surrounding them; in none did she detect even the slightest sign that they sensed anything amiss.
And why would they? The façade of their grand charade was holding firm. No one and nothing had caused any cracks in the image they’d sought to project—that all was proceeding with the three card parties exactly as anyone might expect.