Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(44)

“Cursed animal,” Stefan stepped in between the two and grabbed Rosalind by the shoulders. “I care about you a great deal, Rose. I—“

“—Are you two ready?” Isabelle came around the corner with her sister in tow. “It’s late in the morning, and we need time to find gowns and prepare!”

Words of love hung in the air. Would he never get his opportunity to tell her how he felt? With a shake he nodded his head, “Of course.”

The girls turned and giggled. Rosalind ran ahead to join them. All three of their little heads together in excitement.

His face took on a smile that nearly hurt from its expansiveness, and Samson nudged him quite hard on the backside, as if to say, “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Helpful,” Stefan muttered and followed the girls to the awaiting carriage, but not before stopping and giving the groom strict instructions to hide the oats. He left the stables with noises of Samson’s protests. That’ll teach him to try to steal his future duchess.





Chapter Sixteen


One may smile and smile, and be a villain!—Hamlet



That night as Rosalind looked in the mirror at her silk ball gown, she let out a giggle of delight. She hadn’t been to a ball since the night of Stefan’s re-appearance into society. Her nerves were on edge but only because the last time she was at a ball, she had promptly fallen asleep under one of the spells that so often plagued her. Mayhap the sickness was leaving her. Doctors were proven wrong all the time, weren’t they? And she hadn’t had a spell for months!

She took a sip of tea that Willard had brought and exhaled as she donned her new gloves and went in search of her sisters.

Stefan was waiting at the bottom of stairs looking more like a duke than she had ever seen him. Shuddering with delight at his devil may care smile, she felt herself flush as she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“One more day,” he said as he kissed her hand.

“Pardon?”

His eyes raked her up and down. “I’ll allow your imagination to finish the sentiment.”

Before she could swat him for his rakish attitude, her sisters descended the stairs giggling in excitement. They were beautiful. Isabelle was in a light yellow that brought out her warm features and Gwen was in an off-white that set off her red rose lips and dark hair to perfection.

“Shall we, ladies?” Stefan announced holding out his arm to Rosalind. They all nodded and followed him out to the ducal carriage.

As they were announced at the ball, Rosalind could not help but wince as people began whispering immediately. No doubt, they were all privy to the rumors surrounding both families and the mysterious deaths that encumbered them.

“Pay them no mind.” Stefan whispered. “Today you enter as a lady, tomorrow you will be received as a duchess.”

Gaining strength from his words, Rosalind was able to nod and smile at those who would wish ill of her and talk about her.

“Grandmother,” Stefan said as the dowager of Barlowe approached them with her jeweled hands extended. “Stefan! And look who is with you! Have I understood correctly that you both are to be married tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Stefan said looking away. “It will be a short private ceremony we aren’t inviting anyone, just merely want to be done with the whole business.”

“Well, I never!” The Dowager sputtered. “My dear, he is such a rakehell please forgive his misdeeds and marry him despite his foolishness.” She turned back to Stefan, “And you!” She poked him in the chest. “A woman’s wedding day is very important, how dare you say otherwise. I am appalled.” With a shake of her head she walked off leaving Rosalind with the terrible problem of hiding her laughter from Stefan.

“Laugh all you want, the woman has no shame, she also seems to know everyone’s secrets, though for the life of me I cannot figure out how. It appears she has ears everywhere. Be careful Rose, it seems the room is enchanted.” He winked and led her to the refreshments.

Rosalind took in the expanse ballroom. It did in fact seem enchanted, whites and silvers were everywhere, the candlelight dancing on the walls and ceiling. A sudden chill washed over her. Why was her excitement always followed by foreboding?

Deciding that she needed to enjoy herself, she watched as several people nodded to her and stared at Stefan as if he was Adonis himself. It wasn’t as big of a crush as normal. People seemed to be enjoying the food and drink more than usual as well. Debutantes weren’t dancing in droves, and it seemed that every hallway was darkly lit, whereas during the season it was hard to make an escape.

“So you’ve decided to come back to us, is that it?” A masculine voice interrupted her thoughts.

Turning on her heel, she gasped and let out a laugh as Lord Rawlings bowed over her hand. “I imagine I should ask for a dance before my wife sees you and doesn’t allow any of us the pleasure of your company.”

With dark hair and bright eyes, the man had always been pleasurable to look at. But he was her dear friend, Abby’s husband. And a better husband Rosalind had never seen. In all honesty, it was what made her heart sick when thinking of a forced marriage. For one moment, she wanted to know what it would be like to have a man look at her the way Rawlings looked at his wife.

“Shall we?” he asked, his hand outstretched.