Where Passion Leads (Berkeley-Faulkner #1)(4)

“Come with me, Rosie.”

Reluctantly Rosalie cast a glance toward the bed. A gentle snore rumbled from Lady Winthrop’s direction. “I can’t risk leaving your mother—” she began, but Elaine shook her head impatiently.

“I’ll tell her it’s my fault if she wakes while you’re gone. I want to gossip awhile and Mama won’t need you for at least an hour or so.”

Rosalie nodded and stood up carefully. Whether to stay or leave was not a difficult decision to make. The last thing she desired was to bring down the baroness’s wrath on her unlucky head, but she was relieved to escape the stuffiness of the room. They tiptoed into Elaine’s turquoise-shaded bedroom, done in the feminine style of Robert Adam, with festoons, white Grecian reliefs, and Venetian carpets, and they sat on the canopied bed. Eager to hear news, gossip, or descriptions of anything entertaining, Rosalie leaned forward to catch every word. “It must have been an exciting party. You slept very late this morning,” she said, and Elaine grinned wickedly.

“Excuse my temper this morning . . . I was as cross as a bear when you came in with my tea. Last night was the longest party yet. I could hardly open my eyes today, after all of the dancing I’ve been through. Mama even let me waltz, can you imagine? And I met the most wonderful men last night, and the downstairs hall is already filled with flowers and calling cards for me.” Dreamily she closed her eyes and fell back onto the goosedown mattress. “None from him, though, and that’s what I would prefer. I must get him to notice me.” “Ah, him. And just who is ‘him’?” Rosalie questioned with reluctant amusement. It was half-pain, halfpleasure to listen to Elaine’s adventures when she wanted so badly to have one herself.

“Lord Randall Berkeley, the future earl. He and his friends attended the party last night. Every now and then one of them would dance . . . oh, you should see how Lord Berkeley dances! He approached Mary Leavenworth for a waltz and made the clumsy girl look positively graceful! The rest of the time he and his friends stood near the corner and talked mysteriously among themselves, stopping occasionally to cast an eye in the direction of the more popular debutantes.”

“They sound rather arrogant to me.” Rosalie could picture the scene easily, especially the corner full of young male peacocks, all strutting and preening because they were matrimonially eligible.

“Oh, but they looked so worldly and exciting, as if there was nothing they hadn’t seen or done before.” “Really?” Rosalie’s interest was piqued even further.

“Do you think that’s really true, or is this some grand impression they seek to give?”

“From what I hear, Berkeley is very experienced and utterly wicked. Mama told me that spending even one minute alone with him would shred a girl’s reputation.” “Take care that he’s not a fortune-seeker.”

Elaine suddenly broke into giggles.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the Berkeleys? They own a shipping company, Abbey House in Somerset, Devonshire House, a castle on the Severn . . . Heavens, they own Berkeley Square!”

“That may all be true, but Eve heard that some London bucks are heavily into gaming, throwing away hundreds of thousands of pounds in one night! They give the appearance of wealth even while they are deeply in debt.”

Elaine ignored the remark, staring dreamily up at the ceiling.

“He is attractive in a strange sort of way . . .” “Lord Berkeley?” Rosalie questioned, and Elaine nodded. “Mmmmn. He is tall and I’ll admit rather unfashionably dark, but his manner is quite fascinating. Most of the time he wears a dreadfully bored expression—” “Of course. Hence, everyone must seek to entertain him.”

“—but occasionally he flashes the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. All he needs is a woman’s gentle influence to moderate him.”

“Is he a dandy?”

“He dresses well,” Elaine conceded, “but I don’t believe his cravat was as high as fashion demands. Why, some of the extracts last night wore them up to the ears!”

“Ridiculous,” Rosalie pronounced, leaning forward in enjoyment. “I’ve heard them speak. Ridiculous creatures, lisping and playing with words until their speech is barely intelligible. Is he like that?”

“No, no, not at all. At least, I don’t think so. I wasn’t able to talk with him. But I’ll attract his notice somehow. He’s the catch of a lifetime.”

“And so are you.” Rosalie patted Elaine’s pale, dainty hand. Suddenly she didn’t wish to hear any more about people she would never meet or about balls the like of which she would never attend.

“And there’s someone else I haven’t mentioned yet, the most divine viscount from—”

“I would like to hear more about this,” Rosalie interrupted, painting on a smile, “. . . later. For now, don’t you think we should practice your French lesson?”

“Mercy, no.”

“Merci,” Rosalie corrected, and Elaine moaned. “I feel a distinct pain in my temples.” “You need a brisk walk and fresh air. I’ll go with you.”

“I need to rest. Bring me some orange-flower water and a handkerchief, please. And tell Cook I would like luncheon brought up in an hour. Oh, give my white slippers to Amille. The ribbons need repairing.” A note of condescension had entered Elaine’s tone as she spoke, reminding Rosalie momentarily of Lady Win throp.