Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(87)

“You are not the kind of woman who would be easily offended, I can see that…”

“Of course I’m not!” came the indignant reply.

“Then,” Mira continued, “I could not help noticing that you… well, it seemed to be a strain for you to look down at the—”

“Impertinent chit. There is nothing wrong with my eyes. Now, be off with you, and go on dancing and prattling with your—”

“I am glad there is nothing wrong with them,” Mira said, dabbing hurriedly at the punch stains again, which had all but disappeared. “I just thought that if they were blurry, I could make a suggestion that migirt help.”

“You? By all appearances, you left the cradle last week. Now, run along with you.““Yes, madam. Thank you for your offer of the…” Mira’s voice faded as the woman waved her away impatiently.

Shrugging lightly, she walked back to where the punch had been spilled and found that Carr had finally consoled Henrietta Lester by asking her to dance. He stared at Mira as he turned the girl around the floor sedately, and he made a brief, anguished grimace that caused Mira to laugh softly. Her attention was caught by the sight of Rand waltzing with one of the Berkeley cousins and wearing that polite, attentive expression that could only mean he was bored to distraction. Mira’s smile changed to a thoughtful frown. If Rand wasn’t dancing with his wife, then where was Rosalie?

It was not difficult to spot Rosalie’s red-and-gold gown amidst the throng of costumes. She was dancing with a man that Mira did not recognize. From the satisfied expression on her face, it was likely that her partner was George Canning.

“I’d lay a quart of heavy wet on it,” Mira said out loud, using an expression that was popular in certain districts of London, and she crossed her fingers. If it was indeed Canning, he appeared to be far more approachable than she had expected. Dressed plainly in the costume of a Greek philosopher, he was handsome, compactly built, and rather short. There was an aura of innate assurance and confidence around him… but would he dare grant Rosalie a favor if it risked the displeasure of the king?

The dance ended, and among the rain of applause, Rosalie’s partner left the room discreetly. It took Mira less than half a minute to reach Rosalie’s side, and they walked to the punch table, talking rapidly.

“Canning,” Rosalie said breathlessly. “He’s agreed to speak with me—he’s going to wait in one of the rooms nearby. We can’t let anyone find out—”

“Shhh—your husband is coming,” Mira whispered,and pasted a look of solicitous concern on her face as Rand walked up to them with a few long strides.

“Rose?” Rand inquired, his hazel eyes darkening to deep olive as he regarded his wife with concern.

“She is not feeling well,” Mira said smoothly, her expression guileless and sincere. “Too much wine and dancing, probably.”

“Yes, that’s it,” Rosalie said, not daring to look at Rand, who could always tell when she was lying. She kept her panicked blue eyes on Mira’s face.

“I’m going to take you upstairs to rest—” Rand began, settling a square brown hand on his wife’s arm.

“I’ll accompany her upstairs,” Mira interrupted, taking hold of Rosalie’s other arm.

“Yes, Mira will go with me,” Rosalie chimed in, giving her husband an agitated smile. “You stay here for a little longer—remember, you still haven’t danced with your cousin Thalia, and I don’t want her to feel like a wallflower.”

“I’m not going to dance with Thalia,” Rand said, his tawny brows lowering over his eyes. “Not when you’re feeling ill, and certainly not when her habit of stepping on her partners’ feet is still fresh in my memory.”

“Poor Thalia,” Rosalie said sadly, wrinkling her forehead. “Couldn’t you ask one of your friends to dance with her, darling? As a favor to me?”

Berkeley stared at her for a minute and then whis-pered an oath, loosing her arm. “Go with her up-stairs,” he said to Mira, and shook his head as he left them, muttering under his breath.

“He is concerned for you,” Mira said.

Rosalie smiled wryly. “Don’t attempt to explain my husband to me,” she said, patting Mira on the arm and then pressing her temples to restrain a headache. “I know him very well—he knows that something is going on, and he doesn’t like the fact that I won’t tellhim about it.” She sighed. “I can’t think about that now. I must speak with Canning about my father.”

They made their way through the crowded ballroom, and Mira became mildly disturbed as she realized that Rosalie’s paleness had increased. “You really aren’t feeling well,” she said, wondering why Rosalie’s expression was so weary… was it a result of tension or actual illness?

“The air was so thick with incense I could hardly breathe!”

“It’s better out here,” Mira replied, and they paused as they turned right to face a long hallway and rows of small rooms.

“Second door on the left. He said he would wait in here for a few minutes.” Rosalie hesitated before the elaborately carved doorknob. “Suddenly I feel so guilty… but I’m not doing anything wrong! It’s not as if this is some sort of tryst. I’m trying to help my father.”