A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

“I’m sure all the gentlemen were tripping over themselves for you.”

Rosalie winced and ran a hand down the brocade of her bodice. “Indeed. With my dowry how could they not?”

Sally cast her gaze down and fell silent at this and Rosalie regretted her words, regretted making the poor girl feel uncomfortable. Of course she knew of her outrageous dowry. All of Britain knew by now. That didn’t give her cause to make the poor girl uneasy. She wasn’t any of the countless gentlemen attempting to woo her.

Lord Strickland’s chinless face floated before her mind. It was bad enough that he mildly repulsed her, but to know that he didn’t even really want her, that he wouldn’t be giving her the barest notice if not for the obscene dowry Dec had placed upon her . . .

It was galling. And yet a fact she would have to accept, dismal as it was. Any man she married would be marrying her for that reason and that reason alone.

In that moment, she understood Aurelia’s motives for wanting to break free and do something bold and reckless. Such an act would be purely selfish. It would be about pleasure and fun. It wouldn’t be about the wealth she brought to her husband. It wouldn’t be about marrying for position or title. It would be an adventure.

Rosalie could understand the desire for that. She understood.

But she could never risk it.

“Ah, Your Grace, good morning. I was just coming to call on you.”

Dec froze on the bottom step of his town house. His gaze collided with Lord Strickland as he descended from his carriage and stopped before him. He nodded warily. “Strickland. What brings you here?

“Your sister,” Lord Strickland began, removing his gloves and twisting them nervously.

Bloody hell. What had the chit done now?

He reluctantly waved in the general direction of his front door, not bothering to correct Strickland again. The man seemed determined to view Rosalie as his sister rather than stepsister. “Shall we discuss this inside?”

The man nodded swiftly and followed Dec inside. He waved off the butler who stepped forward to take Strickland’s coat and offer refreshments. Hopefully, this would not take long and he could still keep his appointment at Jackson’s Saloon.

He closed the door to his office and took position near the great hearth, waiting with a knot of dread in his chest, quite convinced he was about to hear some tirade regarding Rosalie. And what could he expect? Stuck in that school for so many years, she was not precisely trained in the nuances of Society.

He nodded grimly at Strickland as the man flipped back the tails of his jacket and sat rather stiffly on the edge of the chaise. He tugged on his collar and began in his mumbling voice, “This is quite . . . awkward. I’ve never done anything like this before—”

“Strickland.” The earl’s eyes shot to Dec’s face. “Just spit it out.”

“Quite. Quite so.” He nodded doggedly and cleared his throat. “I would like to request the honor of your daughter—er, I mean sister’s hand in marriage.”

Dec stared.

Strickland flushed and continued, his words a nearly unintelligible ramble. “I realize I have only made her acquaintance, but I’ve found her to be very amenable. I think she is absolutely the sweetest creature on earth—”

“Rosalie?” he bit out before he could consider his tone.

“Indeed. She is the kindest—”

“Rosalie?”

The earl nodded, his chin lost somewhere in his neck. “I’m not the only one paying particular attention to her—”

“You’re not?” Other than the night he’d danced with her at the Coltons’ ball, Dec had left her in his aunt’s hands, ignoring his aunt’s requests for him to join them again. He’d deemed it unnecessary, assuming Aunt Peregrine was quite capable of ushering the girl about Town. Apparently he had been correct. His aunt had proven herself very adept. Perhaps too much. The girl had already garnered a proposal.

He quickly squashed his annoyance with his aunt. She had accomplished for Rosalie what she had not yet accomplished with her own daughter. She was to be commended. He was free of her.

He realized that Strickland was still talking.

“ . . . so I wanted to be the first to declare myself.” His smile wobbled and he looked a little sheepish. “I imagine she will attract other offers, but—”

“I accept.”

“Wh-What?”

“Rosalie will be honored, I am certain.”

Strickland blinked. “Truly?”

Dec nodded, ignoring the small niggle of discomfort at the back of his throat. This was what he wanted. The fact that it happened sooner than expected was a boon he should not examine too closely. Strickland was a good man. He came from good family. He was reputed to be a gentleman. Certainly, Dec had never seen him at Sodom or any of the other less than reputable places he had frequented over the years. She could do much worse. She could have ended up with someone like you.

The thought came unbidden, and he shoved it aside. He’d never agree for her to marry a man of his ilk. It would be unconscionable. She might be Melisande’s daughter, but he would do his duty by her and make certain she only joined with an honorable man.

He focused on Strickland again. Once again the man was babbling, his hands moving rapidly with his enthusiasm as he discussed a spring wedding.

Dear God. Did Strickland actually think he gave a damn over the wedding particulars? He pushed off from where he leaned against the mantel. “You’ve my blessing. I leave you to discuss plans with my aunt.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” The much shorter man seized his hand and pumped it in a handshake several times, simultaneously clapping Dec on the back. For one terrible moment it actually looked as though the man would hug him.

“Congratulations, Strickland.” He extricated himself and made his way to the door. “I believe you can locate my aunt in the salon. Rosalie will likely be with her. You’re family now. You’re welcome to find your way there and tell them the happy news.”

Strickland ran a hand over his bald, perspiring scalp. “Indeed. I shall go find them directly.”

“Good day.” Turning on his heels, he strode from the room, from the house, not considering the clipped pace of his stride. Or that he found himself looking over his shoulder several times, watching as the earl practically skipped toward the salon. Or that his stomach churned like he had just consumed a bad bit of fish.

She would be a countess. He had done his duty by her. And some.

Any female would be thrilled from such an arrangement. He should be thrilled.

A vigorous bout at Jackson’s Saloon would do him some good. Suddenly, he felt the need to unleash himself.

“I beg your pardon, my lord?” Rosalie’s hands curled into fists in her lap. “Could you repeat yourself?”

Certainly she had misheard. Or misunderstood.

In fact, nothing Strickland had said since he entered the salon made a dash of sense to her. Nor did she even quite understand his unexpected presence here at all. He had not mentioned calling upon her last night, and on the heels of her conversation with Aurelia, she was not feeling kindly disposed to his sudden appearance.

“We’re to be married!” Strickland dropped beside her on the sofa where she sat before the fireplace, a book forgotten in her lap. For once, his speech rang clear and loud.

She looked from his eager countenance to Aunt Peregrine and Aurelia, who stared back at her with a cocked eyebrow that seemed to say: See there, I told you so.