But physical beauty had never impressed her much. Appearance had little to do with the true measure of a man. She herself had been misjudged far too often because of her looks, for many people automatically assumed she had no brains or substance of character.
Indeed, Roslyn had always seen her beauty as something of a curse. And she suspected Arden might have been subjected to a similar prejudice. With his dark gold hair, his lithe elegance, his polished address, he was the model of masculine perfection. Roslyn had to admit, however, that she found his sardonic smile more appealing than any of his other physical attributes, since it made him seem a little less perfect and more human.
Of course, she had experienced several of his other devastatingly masculine attributes firsthand. She could remember with startling vividness the hardness of his body, his magical hands, his hot, searching mouth…
Scolding herself, she sat up straighter in her chair. She had vowed to drive those erotic images from her memory and never dwell on them again.
Unquestionably, however, she wasn’t the only female here tonight to find Arden appealing. One of the most flirtatious and troublesome pupils at their academy, Miss Sybil Newstead, was gazing up at him admiringly-ogling him, in fact-and hanging on his every word. Yet when the girl brazenly reached out to touch the sleeve of his elegant coat, he slowly lifted an eyebrow and stared down at her clutching fingers until Sybil snatched her hand away.
At the deep flush staining her cheeks, Roslyn couldn’t help but smile at how his cool hauteur had depressed the little hussy’s pretensions.
“You should take note of her miscalculation, Roslyn,” Fanny remarked sagely. “There is an art to dealing with experienced noblemen of Arden’s stamp, and that bold young minx is an utter novice.”
“I am very much a novice also,” she said thoughtfully, “despite what you have tried to teach me.”
Fanny’s mouth curved in a teasing smile. “Perhaps you should ask the duke to advise you. If you could learn to attract a man like him, you can be sure the ploys would work on Lord Haviland.”
Her suggestion made Roslyn laugh again. “I cannot imagine the illustrious Duke of Arden sinking so low as to help me capture a husband.” Her friend was jesting, of course, although no doubt Arden could teach her more than a thing or two about the attributes he found desirable in a mistress.
She was precluded from further considering the possibility when her sister Lily joined them.
“Please, you have to save me,” Lily lamented, sinking into the seat next to Roslyn.
“Save you?”
“From Winifred’s infuriating attempts at matchmaking. I vow she is driving me to distraction.”
By Winifred, she meant Lady Freemantle, the patroness of their academy.
“What has she done that is so terrible?” Fanny asked curiously.
“She is set on throwing me at the Marquess of Claybourne.”
Fanny’s brows drew together. “How so?”
“She practically begged him to dance with me and then prosed on and on about what an exemplary young lady I am. His lordship could scarcely keep a straight face.”
“That is a crime indeed.”
“It is no laughing matter, Fanny!” Lily said in exasperation. “It is utterly mortifying to be dragged before an eligible nobleman and exhibited like a heifer at a fair.” Lily shifted her attention to her sister. “I came to warn you, Roslyn. Next, Winifred will be trying to arrange a match for you with Arden, for she hinted as much.”
The prospect of enduring Winifred’s machinations unsettled Roslyn, while Fanny found it highly amusing. “I doubt she will have much success,” Fanny said. “Matrons have marked Arden as a target for their unwed daughters for years. He’s been chased mercilessly by designing females of all ages since he left off short coats, yet no one has come close to catching him. Trust me, he is aware of every trick and stratagem. Not even Lady Freemantle could ensnare the elusive duke unless he wishes to be caught. Or the marquess either.”
“Even so, I don’t mean to let her carry her wretched intrigues any further,” Lily declared.
Roslyn quelled a smile at her sister’s earnestness. Lily would rather have her fingernails torn out than play the mating game that was eagerly embraced by most young ladies of quality.
“It would be impolite,” Lily added, “to abandon the celebrations before the late supper is served, but afterward…I hope to convince Tess that we should leave early. I trust you don’t mind, Roslyn. I will be happy to return tomorrow to help you put the Hall to rights again, but you will have to excuse me tonight.”
The two sisters planned to spend tonight at the house of their close friend, Tess Blanchard, to give the newlyweds privacy on their wedding night. It would only be for this one night, since Arabella and Marcus would embark on their wedding trip tomorrow morning. “I don’t mind if you go home early with Tess, Lily, but I will need to remain until the last guests depart.”
“Perhaps you can ask Winifred to take you to Tess’s in her carriage. Her ladyship will stay till the last dance, if I know her.”
“Winifred won’t mind, I’m certain,” Roslyn said. “But you and I should say farewell privately to Arabella before you go.”
“Of course.” Lily offered her a smile of gratitude and relief and then rose to her feet. “Pray excuse me. I need to find Tess and ask her to sacrifice for me just this once. She was so looking forward to this evening, and I hate to spoil her enjoyment. But now the pleasure is entirely spoiled for me, too. At least Tess will likely sympathize with my plight, since she has been the victim of Winifred’s maddening matchmaking schemes before.”
Fanny rose also. “I had best go myself, since I have promised dances to several gentlemen, and I cannot afford to disappoint them. May I bring you some punch or a glass of wine first, Roslyn?”
“Thank you, no, Fanny. I need to check in on the kitchens shortly to be certain the preparations for supper are proceeding smoothly, but for the moment, I only want to sit quietly.”
When her sister and friend were gone, Roslyn found her gaze returning to Arabella and Marcus. Along with utter delight, she felt a wistful stab of envy at their remarkable happiness.
Oh, she enjoyed her current life, to be sure. Even before Marcus’s generous settlement, the income she earned from teaching at the academy had given her adequate financial freedom. And preparing young girls to become refined young ladies who could compete in the glittering world of the ton was very rewarding. Yet she felt something vital was missing in her life. Her sisters were infinitely dear to her, but they couldn’t fulfill her yearning for love…for a husband and children of her own.
And now that Arabella had found happiness in marriage, Roslyn’s resolve was only bolstered. She wanted to find that kind of true love for herself.
Roslyn hoped it would be with Rayne Kenyon, the Earl of Haviland. The black sheep of his illustrious family, Lord Haviland had unexpectedly inherited the title and fortune last year, which made him an extremely eligible bachelor, despite his nonconformist nature and his distaste for the trappings of the peerage.
As a rebel, he had more in common with Lily than with herself, Roslyn knew. In looks he was also very different from her. He was tall, as she was, but dark-haired, and handsome in a harsh sort of way, with a bold, masculine virility that commanded attention and respect. Yet Roslyn found herself attracted to his rugged appeal, as well as his forthright manner and his wicked sense of humor.
Because he disdained the frivolity and supercilious pretenses of the ton, Haviland had never bothered to learn the exalted social graces expected of an earl. Yet for his family’s sake, he had begun making an effort to establish himself in society.
It was his regard for family that had most impressed her. She’d seen his affection for his nephews recently when he began teaching them to swim next door. And he was quite busy these days, squiring his elderly grandmother around London. Such kindness was just the quality Roslyn wanted in a husband.
More important for her, Haviland was said to be in the market for a bride, although chiefly at his grandmother’s urging.
Roslyn’s gaze moved over the ballroom, unconsciously watching for Lord Haviland. She didn’t see him among the dancers. Perhaps she should go in search of him…
Roslyn looked up just then to see Winifred bearing down upon her with the Duke of Arden in tow. Deplorably, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. But then she pressed her lips together in vexation. After Lily’s warning, she knew precisely what Winifred intended. Regrettably, though, there was no escape.
Rising to her feet, Roslyn stood reluctantly waiting for her ladyship’s assault.
A large, ruddy-faced woman, Winifred had a booming voice and accent that betrayed her lower-class origins, but she was a kind soul and very well meaning. She’d been their dear friend and supporter for four years, ever since
