The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(13)
Hope soared through Rosie. Like the Pantheon, I, too, shall rise from the ashes of disgrace.
Now everyone who was anyone flocked to the Pantheon’s stalls. The finest goods could be found within the colonnaded grand atrium, which was decorated with plaster moldings and topped with a coffered dome. In addition to the shops, the Pantheon boasted a gallery of paintings on the upper floor and a glass-walled conservatory that housed a collection of exotic plants and beasts.
“Do you see Daltry?” Polly whispered.
Rosie, who’d been scanning the throng of well-dressed patrons, shook her head. “In my note, I said that I would be in the conservatory at two o’clock. There’s still an hour to go.”
“Are you certain you wish to do this?” The white silk lining of Polly’s bonnet enhanced the clarity of her aquamarine eyes and their worried expression. “Because we can always—”
“This is what I want.” Having heard the anxious litany on the carriage ride over, Rosie headed the other off at the pass. “Now onto more pressing matters: how do I look?”
Her question was prompted by pragmatism rather than vanity. Physical appearance being her main asset, she had to make the most of what she had. Moreover, conveying a proper, fashionable image was essential in battling the gossip about her.
No matter what anyone said about her, she would always look like a lady.
Thus, she’d worn a pink merino carriage dress with gigot sleeves and full skirts embroidered with black silk thread at the hem. A matching pink mantlet bordered with black velvet draped over her shoulders, a square-buckled ceinture cinching it all in at her waist. To top it all off, she sported a capote bonnet trimmed with pink ribbon and adorned with a clever mix of wax cherries and real hothouse blooms.
Although her corset made breathing a challenge and her bonnet required that she keep her head subtly tilted to offset the weight of the fruit, the effect was worth it. She was as perfectly turned out as any one of her dolls. She was ready to meet Daltry—and to land him.
“You look beautiful, as always.” Polly nudged her husband. “Doesn’t she, Sinjin?”
“You look very well, Miss Kent,” Revelstoke said.
How he could make that assessment was anyone’s guess since he had eyes for no one but Polly. Former rakes apparently not only made the best husbands, they were the most besotted ones, too.
Stifling her amusement, Rosie said, “Shall we make our rounds?”
The three of them spent the next half-hour meandering through the stalls. For once, the Pantheon’s abundant delights failed to distract Rosie, her mind preoccupied by her bold plan. Daltry’s new title was attracting unwed ladies like flies to honey, and she had to act whilst she still had an advantage. Thus, she’d sent Odette on a covert mission to deliver a note to him yesterday; the French maid had returned with an affirmative reply.
Now I must strike while the iron is hot…
“What do you think of this silver comb?” Polly asked.
With an expert eye, Rosie perused the tray of hair ornaments laid out by a stall keeper. “The silver filigree is pretty, but the gold comb would look ravishing with your coloring.”
“Excellent choice, miss.” The merchant beamed, no doubt at the prospect of the higher sale.
“We’ll take both,” Polly told him, “the silver for my sister and the gold for me.”
As Revelstoke completed the transaction with the merchant, Rosie murmured, “You didn’t have to do that, Pols.”
“I know I didn’t have to.” Polly linked arms with her, their gowns swishing as they strolled on together. “But recall how whenever you went shopping, you always bought something for me too. I’m returning the favor.”
“Back then I had to buy you things. For reasons I’ll never comprehend, you chose charitable work with foundlings over shopping. But now look at you,” Rosie said fondly. “You’re a veritable fashion plate.”
“I still prefer the foundlings,” Polly admitted. “Sinjin chooses my wardrobe for me.”
“No doubt he knows your measurements by heart.”
“Rosie.”
Rosie laughed. “Oh, don’t look so scandalized. Save it for when I tell you my good news about Daltry. Speaking of which—I’d best get on to the conservatory to meet him.”
“At least let me accompany you—”
“I need privacy. But don’t worry: Daltry and I are meeting in the section at the back where hardly anyone goes. And if anyone sees us, I’ll pretend I lost you in the crowd, and Daltry was escorting me back to you.”
Polly chewed on her lip. “If I don’t see you back here in exactly fifteen minutes, I’m going to the conservatory to look for you.”
“All right, mother hen.” Rosie winked. “Wish me luck.”
~~~
Rosie arrived at the conservatory a tad breathless. A new shipment of tea had arrived from China, and she’d had to make her way through a throng vying to get a sample of the fashionable brew. As a result, it was a few minutes past the appointed meeting time, and she saw that a uniformed man was cordoning off the entryway, shooing away would-be visitors.
“Oh dear,” she said in dismay, “the conservatory isn’t closed, is it?”
The man touched his hand to his cap, bowing. “For cleaning, miss.”