Which, she admitted ruefully, she just might if Mrs. Gladstow made good on her threats.
But that was something she would have to deal with when the time came. She was strong; she could handle whatever life threw at her. In the meantime, she would warn Miss Gladstow immediately of the danger. And pray she had the strength to fight against her mother’s dictates.
The thought should have filled her with panic. Instead she felt a strange type of freedom. There was nothing stopping her from protecting Miss Gladstow. Granted, she didn’t know how she was going to keep a roof over her own head. But there was nothing she could do about that now. No, now was the time for dealing with wrongs she could right. Filled with a new determination and purpose, she hurried back to Miss Gladstow. Surely if she explained things to the girl, if they put their heads together, they could come up with some way to prevent the union.
But by the time she neared the wallflower line Sir Tristan—how the blazes had she forgotten him?—was already seated with Miss Gladstow. The two were in close conversation, Miss Gladstow’s lips moving at an impressive rate. Sir Tristan, for his part, looked incredibly serious and intent. They leaned toward one another, the intimacy of their conversation left in no doubt.
Just then a particularly loud group of young people stepped in her path. They surrounded her, hemmed her in, blocking her way to Miss Gladstow. It took Rosalind some seconds to work free of the press of bodies. Free of that tight knot of humanity she took a cleansing breath, turned her gaze the way of her prey…
And froze.
The two chairs, formerly occupied by Miss Gladstow and Sir Tristan, were empty.
Rosalind hurried forward, scanning the area, panic quickly setting in. Where had they gone? If it had been physically possible she would have kicked herself. For in her altered state of mind after Lord Ullerton’s unexpected revelation and Sir Tristan’s subsequent kindness, she had forgotten her very real reservations about the baronet—and Miss Gladstow’s orders from her mother that she should encourage him. The man had to be bent on seduction. And she had led him to Miss Gladstow, like a wolf to a lamb. She bit back a frustrated growl. To be so close to saving the girl from a reprobate, only to lose her to the machinations of a practiced rake? Devil take it, if anything happened to Miss Gladstow she would never forgive herself.
As she made to dive into the depths of the great room in search of them, a brush of wind caressed her flushed face, dragging her attention to the open doors leading to the terrace. Rosalind’s heart dropped. The chair Miss Gladstow had occupied was positioned dangerously close to those doors. In this crush, the promise of a cool evening breeze would be an easy way for a libertine to get an overheated lady off alone. It mattered not that there were doubtless other couples meandering the garden paths. A determined man could find a private spot in even the most crowded of spaces. And quite often, such a scenario led to ruin.
She hurried for the doors, was nearly to them when a hearty laugh reached her ears. Immediately she froze. She had heard that laugh often during her time in London. No one showed their mirth in such an open, joyous way, no other man was capable of such an infectious sound. Stopping in her tracks, she spun about. Sure enough, there was Sir Tristan, towering above the other dancers on the floor. He guided Miss Gladstow in a two-hand turn. Even from this distance she could discern the happiness in the lady’s eyes.
Rosalind blew out a breath. She would have to wait then, at least until the song was done. Finding an unobtrusive spot beside a towering pillar, she craned her neck as Sir Tristan led Miss Gladstow into a promenade, making certain this time she did not lose sight of him.
“Who, I wonder, has caught your attention?” A voice drawled in her ear.
Rosalind yelped, jumping back. Her elbow cracked against the pillar, shooting bright pain up her arm. She winced and cradled her abused limb against her torso.
“I’m terribly sorry,” the newcomer said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. And I certainly did not intend to injure you.”
Rosalind turned, and spied through her watering eyes a stunning woman, one of those seemingly ageless creatures that could be anywhere from five and twenty to fifty. She exuded sultry confidence. Nothing at all was left to the imagination, most of all her generous bosom, which fairly spilled from her nearly nonexistent bodice. Her entire form (save her bosom, of course) was draped in a brilliant green satin that shimmered with each play of light, showcasing her curves.
Rosalind forced her gaze to the woman’s face. It certainly would not do to be caught staring at the woman’s endowments, no matter how displayed they were. “I wasn’t frightened,” she said. “Merely surprised. Most people don’t notice me, much less talk to me.”
The stranger’s ruby lips turned up in a smile. “One could hardly fail to notice you, the way you were fairly glowering at the dancers on the floor. I would have thought you someone’s outraged mother if it didn’t appear you were fresh out of the school room.”
A startled laugh burst from her. “Then you need spectacles, ma’am, for I am five and twenty, certainly not some young miss.”
The woman’s face twisted. “Oh, don’t call me ma’am, please. It puts me in mind of elderly women tottering about with steel gray hair and walking sticks.”
“No one could mistake you for such a person,” Rosalind answered.
The woman laughed gaily. “I do like you. But I forget, I have not introduced myself, and people do so like to know who they’re talking to. I am Lady Belham.”
“Lady Belham? I haven’t heard of you.” The minute the words left her mouth Rosalind wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.
Blessedly Lady Belham did not seem the least bit offended by her rudeness. She laughed. “Should you have? Or do you know everyone in London?”
“No! That is, the Gladstows do. I don’t. Though I do know of most people in town. Through the Gladstows, of course. As their companion. Though my father was a country gentleman, I have no connections to speak of. That is, I have no reason to know all of these people. I’m of no importance, after all.”
The more her mouth ran on, the hotter her face became. Yet she couldn’t seem to still her lips. At last she ran out of words and fell silent, staring at her toes. She expected any number of reactions from Lady Belham, from indignation to amusement. At the very least the woman would say her goodbyes now that she was aware of Rosalind’s lowered status.
“Well, now, that can’t be true,” the lady said quietly.
Rosalind chanced a look up. The other woman looked kindly at her. She frowned in confusion. “What can’t be true? That the Gladstows know everyone?”
“Not at all. Though I’ve been out of society, nay even the country, for nearly half my life, even I have heard of Mr. Gladstow and his fortune in shipping. Anyone with that much money would know any number of people. Or, rather, those people would wish to know him, though they may pretend not to. What I meant was I don’t believe you’re unimportant.”
Rosalind stared at her. It was then she felt it, the most peculiar warmth spreading through her chest.