The next morning, after telling her father goodbye, Rose set off for Mary’s. She was very excited to see her friend, as they had not been able to see each other in several months. Rose was also excited to tell her friend about Daniel and the Specter.
When she arrived, her friend greeted her straightaway. Mary looked tired, but she was thrilled to see Rose.
“I have a carriage waiting for us,” Mary said, taking Rose’s hand and leading her away from the front door.
“Carriage?” Rose asked.
Mary nodded.
“If I have to stay at this house one more moment today, I will go mad,” Mary said, putting her hand to her forehead dramatically.
Rose laughed.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Mary shrugged.
“Anywhere that is not here,” she said. “Come. Let us go.”
When they reached the carriage, Rose saw another familiar face waiting inside. Rose smiled at the elderly woman.
“Mrs. Griffin,” she said to Mary’s aunt as she and her friend boarded the coach. “It is wonderful to see you again.”
Mrs. Griffin reached out and took Rose’s hand, smiling warmly.
“It is good to see you, too, dear,” the older woman said. Rose had known her for as many years as she had Mary, and she thought of her as her own aunt. Mrs. Griffin had been an especially welcome comfort after Rose’s mother died. As the three women laughed and talked, Rose felt much of the stress of the last few weeks fast dissolving.
When they got closer to town, Mary suggested that they go for a walk in the park, to which Rose happily agreed. It was a beautiful, warm day, and the flowers all throughout the park were in full bloom and breathtaking during that time of year. Once they arrived at the park, the women climbed out of the carriage. Mrs. Griffin, who was walking with a noticeable limp, walked a few steps behind Mary and Rose.
“I am so nervous about the Season,” Mary confided in her.
Rose nodded in agreement.
“So am I,” she said. “But I promised Father that I would come out this Season and really try to find a suitable match.”
Mary looked at her, confused.
“Why?” she asked.
Rose smiled, thinking of her father’s face whenever he was talking about the dowager widow.
“Because he had the chance at happiness of his own, but he will not take it unless he is certain that I am happy and being cared for,” Rose said.
Mary’s eyes widened.
“Your father is in love,” Mary gasped. “With whom?”
Rose glanced around and lowered her voice.
“The dowager marchioness of Dolomore,” she said softly.
“The widow?” Mary gasped again.
Rose giggled and nodded.
“You must promise not to tell a soul, though,” Rose said, her expression one of feigned seriousness. There was no one in the world she trusted more than Mary, and she knew that Mary would tell no one.
“You mean, besides the announcement that I am going to take straight to the newspaper office about it first thing tomorrow morning?” Mary teased.
Rose playfully gave her friend’s arm a gentle nudge.
“You are wicked,” Rose laughed.
Mary smiled proudly and giggled.
“Oh, speaking of this year’s Season,” Mary said, putting her hand on her forehead once more. “I cannot believe how many invitations I have already received.”
Rose nodded vigorously.
“I do not know how I will ever respond to so many before the Season ends,” she said.
“Especially when we have been trying to arrange our own coming out events,” Mary agreed.
“How are your plans coming along?” Rose asked. She had expected Mary to sigh wearily. Instead, however, her friend blushed and smiled shyly.
“I met a wonderful gentleman a couple of weeks ago, while I was out running some of the errands for the arrangements,” Mary said.
Rose clapped her hands and smiled widely at her friend.
“Tell me all about him,” Rose said.
“His name is Chester Van Horn, and he is the Duke of Varkus,” she said.
“My father knows Lord Varkus,” Rose said, hugging her friend. “He is very clever and witty.”
“And he is so very handsome,” Mary said, a dreamy look in her eyes.
Rose laughed.
“Perhaps you will not even need your coming out ball,” she teased.
Mary rolled her eyes.
“Perhaps,” she mused. “But I want mine.”
Rose smiled wistfully.
“Would that I could say the same,” she said.
“Would that you would finally meet a nice man,” Mary said. She and Rose did, indeed, have a great many things in common. Their biggest difference, however, was that Mary was far more interested in finding a good man and marrying that Rose had ever been.
Rose did not realize that she was blushing until Mary stopped walking and stared at her.
“You have met someone,” she said, putting her hand to her now open mouth.
“Actually, I met two someone’s,” she said, her heart racing as she thought of the two men.
“Who?” Mary asked.
“You know about the mysterious man who always performs at the theater in that black mask, yes?” Rose asked.
Mary gasped and her eyes grew wide.
“You know who he is now?” Mary asked.
“No,” Rose said. “However, I did at last meet him, face to face.”
Mary stared at her in attentive astonishment.
“What’s he like?” Mary asked. “Was he frightening? Is he nice?”
Rose laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm.
“He is certainly not frightening,” Rose said. “And he was quite polite, and witty, too.”
Mary sighed. It occurred to Rose just then that there were likely many women who were infatuated by the mystery surrounding the Specter
“Your father must know who he is, though,” Mary said, her desire to learn the identity of the masked stranger mirroring that that Rose had felt after meeting him.
Rose shook her head.
“Unfortunately, he knows nothing more about the Specter than anyone else does,” she said, feeling her own disappointment begin to rise once again.