more informal and comfortable than the drawing room, which had been totally refurbished by Arabella in the past month.
Roslyn felt a measure of excitement as she waited for the earl to arrive, but she forced herself to keep from glancing out the window more than once every few minutes. Instead she went over in her mind the techniques of flirtation that Arden had taught her this morning…eyes, mouth, flattery…
She found herself smiling anew while wondering if his tricks would have any effect on Haviland. She hoped so. She would sometimes daydream of the earl, imagining how their courtship would go. He would be irresistibly drawn to her from the first, and in a very short time, declare his love and ask for her hand in marriage.
Perhaps, Roslyn ruminated, she had concocted a mere fairy tale, but if she could kindle his desire for her in any way, she was willing to exert her best effort, including developing her skill at coquetry, despite the fact that she was not really cut out for such pretenses.
Haviland arrived promptly at three, but to her surprise, he was not alone; when he was shown into the salon by Simpkin, he was accompanied by the Duke of Arden. The two noblemen seemed to be on amiable terms, although they claimed to have met at her front door.
Roslyn looked a question at Arden, wondering why he had chosen to call at this precise moment when he knew she had an appointment with the earl.
“I thought you might like a report on the search for our highwayman,” he answered without prodding.
Haviland’s heavy eyebrows drew together sharply. “What highwayman?”
He had not yet heard about last night’s holdup, so Roslyn was required to relate the events.
“What is being done about it?” Haviland wanted to know.
The duke answered for her, telling him about the search the Freemantle servants had conducted this morning. “They canvassed the district for the brigand, but found no traces of blood anywhere, or any real clues to follow. He could have taken refuge anywhere, even as far as London.”
“Perhaps we should have armed footman patrol the roads for the next few nights,” Haviland suggested.
“It is already being done,” Arden replied.
“Good. And we should alert the local citizens to be on the lookout and to keep their possessions well guarded. I don’t want to alarm anyone unnecessarily, but they should take precautions.”
Simpkin arrived with the tea tray just then, and Roslyn invited the earl to sit beside her on the settee. If she expected Arden to take his leave, however, she was disappointed, for he settled comfortably in a wing chair and showed no signs of retreating. And as she poured for the gentlemen, he changed the subject to the earl’s ball, which vexed and dismayed her more than a little. She had hoped for some time alone with Lord Haviland and had not expected to have an audience.
But since the duke apparently intended to give her no choice, Roslyn summoned a smile and asked Haviland what plans had been made for the ball.
“My housekeeper has already arranged for flowers and musicians and more serving staff, but she would be grateful for your advice on the menu, since she has never been required to feed such distinguished company. There will be a dinner beforehand for two dozen guests, and a late buffet supper at midnight. And I would welcome your help with the social niceties-where to place the reception line, how to seat the guests by rank, that sort of thing.”
“I would be happy to help,” Roslyn said. “It would be best if I inspected your house and met with your butler and housekeeper. And I should like to see the guest list.”
“I have brought it with me.” Haviland drew out a sheaf of papers and handed it to her.
Roslyn glanced down the long list, which contained some two hundred members of the ton, many of whom had attended the Danvers wedding celebrations. When she was finished, the duke surprised her by asking to see it.
“I can probably assist in this respect,” Arden said, “since I’m acquainted with a good number of the ton.”
Roslyn handed it over without demur. No doubt he
While he perused the list of guests, she picked up her own list of requirements for a successful ball and began to review the various categories with the earl to make certain they had been properly considered. Haviland moved nearer to her, the better to see, and bent his head close to hers.
The intimate position would have offered Roslyn the perfect opportunity to initiate her intended flirtation with him-if not for her keen awareness that they were not alone. The duke was watching her too closely for comfort, which made her exceedingly self-conscious. Yet whenever she glanced up at Arden, he merely raised an innocent eyebrow and sipped his tea.
When eventually she narrowed her eyes at him, he merely smiled, his gaze gleaming a challenge, as if daring her to order him out.
His presence flustered Roslyn so that she could barely concentrate on the plans for the ball. When she was done reviewing her lists with Haviland, she set an appointment for eleven o’clock the following morning to inspect his house for herself and meet with his upper servant staff. A few minutes later he rose and took his leave after thanking her sincerely.
When he was gone, Roslyn turned to Arden with an undisguised look of exasperation. “What do you mean, your grace, intruding on us that way? I had hoped for privacy with Lord Haviland.”
His expression remained mild in the face of her obvious pique. “I wanted to see you employ your new skills on him.”
“So you came to critique my performance?”
“And to observe so that I could offer you pointers.” He shook his head ruefully. “I admit I was not impressed by your lackluster attempts at flirtation, darling.”
His remark provoked her even more. “How could you expect me to flirt with him with you watching my every move?”
The duke settled back in his chair. “You shouldn’t let yourself be discomfited. Conducting a dalliance under public scrutiny is all part of the game.”
Roslyn’s hands went to her hips. “It is
“Why? I am merely your tutor.”
Her frustration only rose. “I asked you to help me, not hinder me! Why did you even come here today?”
Arden shrugged. “Would you believe boredom? I found myself at loose ends, cooling my heels at Freemantle Park with nothing to do. And I decided that watching you with Haviland might prove entertaining.”
“So you decided to use us for your own personal amusement?” Roslyn asked dangerously.
His expression sobered. “Not entirely. The truth is I wanted to escape Lady Freemantle before I throttled her. Her enthusiasm for conversation is enough to drive a saint mad. But you are right to be annoyed with me. Pray accept my apologies.”
Somewhat mollified by his explanation, Roslyn felt her ire fading. The duke had only remained at the Park out of chivalry. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to escape Winifred.
“I understand your impatience with Lady Freemantle,” Roslyn said more softly. “She does tend to get a bit giddy when she has a captive audience. But it is because she is lonely-a widow with no children or family relations. And she has few friends in the neighborhood because of her lower-class origins.”
“But you understand why I might want to take refuge here?”
“Yes, and you are welcome here, of course.”
“Thank you, Beauty.”
She gave him another exasperated look. “I wish you would not call me that, your grace. You know my feelings on the subject of appearance. You needn’t keep reminding me of mine.”
His mouth curved. “You will have to become accustomed to an occasional endearment if you mean to become more intimate with Haviland.”
“How can I become more intimate when you won’t allow me the chance?”
“Point taken. Very well, it won’t happen again.”
“I trust not. I begin to believe I can do better on my own.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you no longer want my advice on how to win Haviland?”
Roslyn hesitated. “No, I am not saying that at all. But you needn’t be so…provoking.”
