Free Red Rose by Mary Balogh Page B

“I cannot imagine who would want to remember me after last night.”
    “That perfectly gorgeous man we met at the theater is one of them,” Sylvia said.
    “Sir Bernard Crawleigh?”
    “Yes, him. Oh, Ros, he is the one you walked across the ballroom with, is he not? How could you do such a thing? I thought it excessively brave of you.”
    Rosalind rested her forehead on her raised knees. “I really do not wish to discuss that,” she said. “Give me five minutes, Sylvie, and I shall come and inspect this flower garden with you.”
    A feeling of oppression stayed with her for the rest of the day, but she had no chance to give in to her mood. After she had dutifully inspected all the flowers with Sylvia and read all the cards, it was time for luncheon and a long conversation about the previous evenings successes between Sylvia and Cousin Hetty. Visitors began to arrive in the afternoon, almost all of them male.
    It was during these visits, when the drawing room was crowded, that the Earl of Raymore put in his only appearance of the day. Rosalind, talking at the time with Nigel Broome, stiffened. She was afraid to look directly at him, but was constantly aware of his moving about the room, greeting the various visitors. She could breathe freely again only when she became aware, after twenty minutes, that he had left.
    Later in the afternoon both cousins were taken driving in Hyde Park, Sylvia by Lord Standen, Rosalind by Sir Rowland Axby. The latter made no reference to the embarrassing spectacle Rosalind had made of herself the evening before. In fact, no one had done so except Sylvia. Rosalind was content during the drive to listen to Sir Rowland talk on about his family and about his house and to try not to imagine what half the people riding and walking in the park must be thinking of her.
    ***
    The Earl of Raymore had a great deal more time than his ward during the day to brood on what had happened the evening before. After very few hours of fitful sleep he rose early and saddled his fastest horse. Hyde Park was not the ideal place for an uninhibited gallop, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. At least he did not have to worry about endangering any other riders or pedestrians. The mists of early morning had still not lifted as he drove his spurs into the horse and galloped quite recklessly across the green lawns.
    How could he have so forgotten himself and propriety as to have kissed his own ward? He disliked the girl intensely. She was everything he most detested in a woman—proud and independent of spirit, making no secret of her scorn for men. She was bold and had no sense of modesty. What other girl would have walked across an empty dance floor during her come-out ball even if she had the prettiest of walks? She had quite openly shown her contempt for the whole ton by making such a public demonstration of her deformity. Physically, she was not attractive at all to him. He had never admired tall women or dark coloring. Only fragile, fair beauty had ever tempted his appetites. Yet, despite all these things, he had given in to some madness the night before. For the span of a few minutes, he could not deny it, he had wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman. It was only by some miracle that he had come to his senses when he had. A few minutes more, seconds even, and he would have passed the point of no return. The thought did not bear contemplation. Raymore turned his horse and urged it back in the direction from which he had just come. He tried desperately to keep his mind blank.
    Uncharacteristically, the earl stayed at home after breakfast, first consulting with his secretary and checking his morning mail and then retreating to the library, where he sat at his desk and stared ahead of him. Why had she allowed such an unchaste embrace as they had shared last evening? God, in this very room! He would never have guessed that she was a practiced flirt. He would have expected that someone