Free Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) by G.G. Vandagriff Page A

prospects . . . .
    She put down the quill. The truth about herself was so bad that she could not confide it even to Sophie. Calling for Becky to help her out of her frock, she sat listlessly before her mirror.
    She had courted ruin purposely, thinking that she was different than everyone else and should not be expected to act the same. Who did she think she was?
    She had railed against the ton, but when she was on the brink of losing her reputation, she had seen only a bleak future before her. No matter how she wished things were different, the truth was that obedience to the principles of behavior laid down by the ton was for her own protection as a woman. A woman who lost her virtue before her marriage was of no value at all and had no prospects for marriage among her social equals. Perhaps, after all, she was a hypocrite. She realized she could never achieve independence unless she were married well to a husband who understood her. Married women had far more freedom than she did as an aging debutante.
    Once she had disrobed, she crawled into bed, though it was the middle of the afternoon.
    “Be you sick, miss?” Becky inquired. “Would you like me to fetch anything for you? Tea? Chocolate? A cold compress for your head?”
    “No. Thank you, Becky. I just wish to sleep. Tell my sister I will not be down for dinner. Also that I will not be joining them this evening for the musicale.”
    Fanny descended almost at once into the black tunnel of sleep. She dreamed a sequence from As You Like It, where Orlando, in the personage of Lord Warmsby, was proclaiming his love. Repulsed by him, she was running away, hiding in the topiary garden at Ruisdell Palace. Elise was playing the part of Rosalind’s bosom bow, Celia, when Fanny was awakened by Celia/Elise shaking her shoulder.
    “Dearest Fan, wake up, darling. I cannot have you going into a decline. You must eat some dinner. I have brought it myself and will sit with you while you eat.”
    She groaned. “Elise, you are so good to me. I am a wretch. I nearly ruined all of us.”
    “I told you, I think it far more the fault of the Marquis. Thinking it over has put me off him altogether, though he be a friend of Peter’s.”
    Fanny said, “We are rather a naughty combination, I am afraid.” She struggled into a sitting position, putting her pillows behind her. She was surprisingly hungry and addressed herself to the dinner of roast partridge.
    “I will not allow you to lie here at home while we go out for the evening,” Elise said. “Becky is preparing a bath, and you are going to get up and put on your nicest gown. Then we will go to Lady Constance’s musicale. Have you forgotten Aunt Clarice is to perform an aria from her opera?”
    “Elise, much as I love Aunt Clarice, that opera is dreadful. It’s about yowling cats!”
    “I know, dear, but it means the world to her. She has been working on it for years. When I lived with her during my come-out, I used to play accompaniment for her.”
    “You’re such a saint, Elise. And I am such a disappointment to you.”
    “Come, Fan, this is not like you! You are alarming me dreadfully! Can it be that you are missing Deal?”
    “Do you suppose he will ever come back to London?”
    “I cannot tell you that, my dear. And Peter has warned him to stay away from you. Now, come! Finish up your dinner. Here is Becky. Your bath is ready.”

{ 11 }
     
    B UCK HAD BEEN UNABLE TO CONVINCE WESTRINGHAM to accompany him into Kent. However, he had hired three of his former seamen, who were following him in his carriage with his luggage. As he rode ahead, his thoughts were on Rosalind.
    He was confoundedly blue-deviled, feeling remorse for his part in her near disgrace. Buck hoped devoutly that she would not put forward her scheme for playacting. As he reflected again that it must be dashed difficult to be a young woman living within the confines of the ton, Rosalind had his deepest sympathies.
    Recalling his second conversation with