important, Drew. You have to think more of her than of yourself. Certainly you must be concerned with her welfare. For instance, when you take her to visit your mother, you must do your best to protect her.”
“I intend to.”
“I hope so,” Eleanor said with a shudder. “You know what an icy demeanor and razor-edged tongue the duchess has. If she doesn’t freeze you with her stare, she flays you alive.”
Drew couldn’t help but smile at that description of his illustrious parent.
Eleanor smiled in return. “Actually, I believe it will be good for Roslyn to see you in a different light. It will give you the chance to show her your true self.”
“I’ve shown Roslyn more of myself than any other woman but you-and you aren’t really a woman to me.”
“Thank you very much!” Eleanor said with mock indignation.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know. You see me as a sister. That should work well with Roslyn. And she needs to understand why you don’t readily warm to people. She cannot fall in love with you unless she knows the real you.”
“How did you get to be so wise, minx?”
Eleanor made a face. “Wisdom never did me any good. And I am not so wise. I simply know how I want to be courted.”
“None of your suitors were clever enough to comprehend what you wanted,” Drew remarked.
“Not a one,” she said softly, looking as if her thoughts were a million miles away.
“All right,” he capitulated. “Go order your horse saddled.”
Eleanor seemed to shake herself before offering him an impish smile. “Oh, I didn’t really want to ride with you. I did that this morning. I just came to make certain the course of love was running smoothly for you.”
“You little baggage,” Drew said, laughing. “It’s a wonder Marcus didn’t bind and gag you as soon as you were old enough to let down your skirts.”
“True,” she replied, before she rose and sauntered out the door, leaving Drew chuckling.
But his amusement soon faded as his brow knitted in a thoughtful frown. Eleanor was very likely right. To win Roslyn’s heart, he had to romance her rather than rely on his usual methods of wooing.
Roslyn could not understand the change in Drew when he called on her the next morning. Instead of wicked and knowing, his smile was warm and amiable. Instead of sharp and cynical, his conversation was genuinely companionable. And he didn’t so much as touch her hand.
His visit then was exceedingly brief, too-only long enough to tell her of the arrangements he’d made for their trip to his ducal family seat in Kent the following Monday to meet his mother, the Duchess of Arden. They would stay overnight at Arden Castle and return the next morning.
When Drew suggested that Roslyn take her abigail with them, her brows drew together. “Because your mother will expect it for propriety’s sake?”
“No, because you will be more comfortable traveling with me in my coach. I don’t want you to worry about my trying to seduce you again.”
His consideration took her aback a little, but Roslyn didn’t argue with him, since she would be relieved to have her maid along to act as chaperone and prevent any danger of repeating their shameless passion in his coach.
Nor did she mention her reluctance to make the visit at all. Privately Roslyn thought there was no point in her being presented to his mother for inspection and approval when she didn’t intend to wed Drew, yet she realized they needed to keep up the pretense of their betrothal since it was much too soon to break it off.
To her surprise, she saw nothing more of Drew until the day of the journey. Deplorably, Roslyn found herself missing him. And the thought that he’d given up pursuing her was absurdly disappointing, even though she firmly told herself it would be better if he’d finally come to agree with her view that they wouldn’t suit.
In the interim, Drew wrote to her twice. Once to send her the latest volume of Cobbett’s
Roslyn couldn’t help but smile at his gibe, and repaired immediately to the library to immerse herself in studying the precious little tome.
She was foolishly glad to see Drew when Monday came-and gladder still when she settled in his coach across from him, that her abigail, Nan, was there to help her observe the proprieties. Nan was the lady’s maid Marcus had hired to care for the Loring sisters’ new wardrobes and help them dress and arrange their hair. Although a bit young, she came from London and was well versed in her duties as chaperone.
In Nan’s presence, Drew kept up an easy but impersonal conversation with Roslyn. He spoke less as the morning wore on, though, and as they neared his estate, Roslyn was puzzled to note his near silence. She would have asked him about it, but with Nan listening, she had no opportunity.
The only time Drew spoke was when the carriage slowed to pass through an elaborate stone gate.
“My ancestral home,” he said tersely, staring out the window.
The park was immense, Roslyn realized after they had negotiated a winding wooded drive for more than ten minutes. And then she forgot about Drew’s silence when Arden Castle came into view.
The magnificent structure of golden stone sat gleaming on a hill in the distance. Built only two centuries before, it was nothing like a medieval castle, but rather a formal palace fit for royalty-clearly a residence belonging to the extremely wealthy aristocracy.
Roslyn saw Nan’s eyes widen in awe at the sight, and knew her own expression showed a similar admiration.
A half dozen liveried grooms and footmen rushed to meet their arrival and quickly assumed control of their horses, luggage, and servants. Drew led Roslyn up the sweeping stone steps to the enormous entry-way, where they were greeted by a stately butler, then through the majestic house to what he said was the “small” drawing room.
The interior decor was even more splendid than what she’d expected upon seeing the exterior. Every chamber she passed was lavish with brocade and gilt furnishings, gold and crystal chandeliers, and countless paintings, tapestries, and sculptures.
The richness of it all was rather intimidating, Roslyn decided even before she entered a grandiose room occupied by a tall, regal, silver-haired woman.
The duchess rose slowly, her demeanor just as imperious as Roslyn had been warned, and just as daunting. Her pale gray eyes were glacial, and so was the one word she uttered in acknowledgment of her son’s arrival: “Arden.”
“Mother,” Drew responded with equal terseness. His tone was surprisingly bland yet held no warmth, either. The strain between them was palpable, Roslyn realized as he offered his parent a stiff bow and then made the introductions.
Gracefully, but quite deliberately, the duchess raised her lorgnette to one cold gray eye to examine Roslyn.
“Good day, Miss Loring,” the noblewoman remarked superciliously. “I understand that you have ensnared my son.”
Roslyn couldn’t help her amusement at that particular choice of words, but she was careful to keep both her expression and her tone neutral when she replied. “I hardly think ensnare is the proper word, your grace.”
“Then what would you call it?”
Doubting she would ever win the duchess’s approval, even if she prostrated herself at the disdainful noblewoman’s feet, Roslyn smiled coquettishly up at Drew. “I would call it an unexpectedly mutual attraction, your grace.”
When he smiled lazily back at her, the duchess immediately stiffened. “You can hardly expect me to welcome your betrothal, Miss Loring, when you had such infamous parents. Your entire family has been under a cloud of scandal for years.”
“That was indeed true until recently,” Roslyn agreed politely. “But my elder sister married quite respectably.”
