Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,30

up to prepare and Rosa started off to complete her tasks. ‘A moment, Rose, if you please.’

She had never heard such a stern note in her employer’s voice. Had Lord Stanford broken his word? Oh, why had she trusted the man? She should have gone to Lady Keswick first thing this morning and owned up. With sinking heart she went to stand before her employer. ‘Yes, my lady.’

The elderly lady peered up at her. ‘Are you quite well? You have dark shadows beneath your eyes.’

Lack of sleep. ‘I am fine.’

Lady Keswick frowned. ‘It’s not one of these young reprobates upsetting you, is it? You are worth ten of any of them.’

If only it was something so simple. She shook her head. ‘Perhaps, like Lady Smythe, I was affected by the stormy weather.’ Hope sprang into her mind. ‘Though I would prefer to stay at home today and rest, if I may.’ She could slip out to Gorham Place.

‘Nonsense, young lady. A sea breeze will put colour in those pale cheeks of yours.’

No point in arguing. Her employer never listened.

Lady Keswick cocked her head on one side. ‘And don’t wear black. You will be far too hot. I must say, I really am tired of those widow’s weeds of yours. Too gloomy by half.’

‘But—’

‘Your husband passed on more than a year ago. It is time you came out of mourning. You impressed Phillips with your singing yesterday, now impress him with your looks. Ellie told me you have other gowns.’

The maid assigned to help her dress. Rosa bobbed a curtsy. What could she say? And Lady Keswick was right. Because if she didn’t find the will, she needed a way to make more money than she would ever make as a companion.

Impressing Mr Phillips might indeed be the best course of action. Not that he would think her any great beauty.

Chapter Six

It was a surprisingly short time before the company was ready to leave, the ladies in the carriages and the gentlemen on horseback. If anyone was surprised to see Rosa dressed in a muslin of pale peach and a chip-straw bonnet instead of her usual black, they were too polite to say. Or perhaps no one had noticed. After all, she was barely more than a servant in this house.

Happily, all seemed in high spirits—even Lady Smythe seemed to have regained some of her colour. She had chosen to wear a white muslin sprigged with forget-me-nots and looked less like a married woman and more like a young débutante. She allowed Lord Bannerby to pay her outrageous compliments as he helped her into the carriage. Stanford had merely raised a careless eyebrow.

Was the young matron trying to make him jealous? If so, it wasn’t working. And for some reason, Rosa felt glad as he rode along beside the carriage which she, Lady Keswick and Mrs De Lacy occupied. Mr Fitzwilliam rode on their other side and the rest of the gentlemen accompanied the second carriage. Two liveried grooms sat behind each carriage, their role to carry the baskets and blankets to the chosen spot on the beach and help Lady Keswick into her chair.

After half an hour, the carriages turned a corner and the sparkling blue of the sea spread out before them. The white sails of ships plying the coast added to the charming picture.

‘Did I not tell you Camber Sands was one of the loveliest spots in all of England, Mrs De Lacy?’ Lady Keswick said. ‘It was the reason I bought The Grange. I love the sea.’

The widow smiled. ‘You did, my lady. And you were right.’

The coachman drew the carriage off the road and into the sand dunes. ‘It is lovely,’ Rosa agreed. She’d known that before they set out. Another reason she had thought to cry off. Too many memories.

‘Charming,’ Mrs Phillips said, joining them as they walked across the dunes to the beach. ‘Simply delightful.’

While the footmen unpacked the food, the sunshades and the blankets under Lady Keswick’s eagle eye, the party walked to where the sea lapped on the long stretch of golden sand.

Gulls wheeled overhead in anticipation of crumbs. Rosa had the urge to take off her sandals and paddle as she had as a child when her parents visited this beach.

Happy times and, surprisingly, looking back was not as painful as she had expected.

‘May I say how delectable you look,’ a dark voice murmured behind her.

Delectable. He made her sound edible. A thrill of something dark ran through her as she