A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

“Are you mad?” The words escaped without deliberation. It was simply the only thought in her head.

Aunt Peregrine gasped. An irreverent laugh escaped Aurelia, which she quickly silenced by slapping a hand over her mouth.

Strickland blinked, his smile slipping ever so slightly. “Er, what . . . Uh, no. I spoke with your brother—”

“Stepbrother,” she snapped.

He inclined his head at the error. “I only just spoke with him moments ago and he accepted—”

“He told you I would marry you?”

Strickland stared at her as if unsure how to proceed, his mouth parted like a gaping fish.

She demanded again, the point very important to her, “He told you I would marry you?

At last, he nodded and found his voice. “Indeed. Quite happily so, he gave us his blessing.”

The wretch! She pounded a fist into her lap, indifferent to the book sliding from her lap to the carpet.

“Rosalie,” Aunt Peregrine scolded.

She vaulted to her feet, ignoring the warning. “Without even asking me?” She flattened a hand to her chest. It was inconceivable that he would accept an offer without consulting her.

She began pacing the room, heedless of anything in that moment save for Dec’s utter gall . . . his arrogance. She should have known this would come about. He was the one who decided to give her a Season and a dowry without consulting her, after all. All with the express purpose of winning her a husband. It stood to reason that he would accept the offer on her behalf.

“My lord,” Lady Peregrine began in a placating tone. “Miss Hughes is simply surprised . . . delighted . . . but surprised. I am certain you understand.”

Aurelia snorted and muttered indiscreetly into her hand, “More like disgusted.”

Fuming, Rosalie reached for her composure and sucked in a calming breath. Before she did anything else, she must dispel the notion that she would be marrying Lord Strickland, and she needed to do that as graciously as possible. Stopping, she faced him and forced a brittle smile. “I am truly honored. You humble me with your offer, but I’m afraid I cannot accept, my lord.”

Aunt Peregrine cleared her throat in the sudden silence. “Rosalie, dear—”

She held up a hand, cutting off Lady Peregrine. She held the earl’s gaze, waiting for him to say something.

Strickland blustered, his face flushed varying shades of red. “But your brother—”

“My stepbrother was working under the misapprehension that he has the authority to accept marriage proposals on my behalf. I apologize for any embarrassment this has caused you.”

“Apologize! Apologize!” Strickland lurched to his feet. “I should say so!” He wagged a finger at her. “I was under the impression you welcomed my suit . . . your brother—”

“Stepbrother,” she interjected, not that he paused for breath to acknowledge his mistake.

“—made a fool of me by accepting my offer of marriage before the words had even left my lips. He was that eager to be rid of you!”

The words shouldn’t have stung. They shouldn’t have.

She shook her head. “I am very sorry . . . I just do not feel we suit, my lord.”

He stormed toward the door and yanked it open, rattling the wood on its hinges. “Indeed! We do not! I should have known better to consider anyone connected with Banbury! He’s a morally repugnant scoundrel unfit for good company! Duke or no duke! Any sister of his is equally tarnished, I’m quite certain. And there is the matter of your mother.” His lip curled. “If half the rumors of her misdeeds are true, I was quite cracked in the head to consider you for a bride.” With that parting shot, he stormed out of the room.

They held silent for some moments, staring at the empty door.

“Well,” Aurelia began—no surprise she should find her voice first. “I suppose that tirade nursed his wounded ego.”

“Let us hope.” Lady Peregrine sighed. “Oh, Rosalie, what have you done? He shall not have kind words to say of you! He’s probably on the way to his club to share with everyone how— ”

“He’ll do no such thing. He’s a proud little peacock and will not wish to advertise his shame,” Aurelia interjected. “And her dowry will not slow the flow of suitors pursuing her.”

Rosalie settled her gaze on them both. “What I have done is establish that I alone shall choose my husband.”

Lady Peregrine shot accusing eyes to her daughter. “Is this your doing?”

Aurelia held up both hands, palms facing out. “Do not look at me. I didn’t tell her to reject him.”

Rosalie dragged in a deep breath, expanding her lungs. Anger simmered in her blood, ready to burst free, looking for release. There was only one person who deserved it. “Where is he?”

Lady Peregrine shifted on her chair, looking uneasy. She began petting her fat tabby cat faster. The animal meowed plaintively and stared unblinking at Rosalie. Almost accusingly. As though the beast knew Rosalie was responsible for the rough treatment.

“I heard him mention to the housekeeper that he was going to be gone all day and not to wait dinner for him,” Aurelia volunteered. “You shall have to wait to vent your spleen, although I hope I can stand witness. Please?” She turned to her mother. “I’m so glad we came here. This is the most entertainment I’ve had in . . . well, ever.” She frowned, her shoulders slumping a little. “Oh, that’s a depressing thought. I really do lead a dull existence.”

Rosalie resumed her pacing. This was really beyond the pale. If Dec thought he could plan her life, her future, right down to her husband, then she would dissuade him of that notion posthaste.

“Rosalie, you’re giving me a neck ache.” Aunt Peregrine motioned to her neck. “Seat yourself. Let us talk this through.”

Shaking her head, she sank back down on the settee. “There is nothing to discuss. I will have a say in who I marry—no, I will choose.” She patted her chest.

Lady Peregrine looked at her rather sadly, slowing her death pet on Lady Snuggles. “What were you expecting, my dear? A knight on a white horse? Strickland would have been a brilliant match . . . do you hope for better, then?”

Yes.

Why did she feel so wrong admitting that? Why was it wrong to want more? She had hoped for better. If not love, then something close. Affection at least.

She met Aunt Peregrine’s suddenly grim stare and read her thoughts perfectly. Just for good measure, she added, “Not better precisely.” She was such a coward. She couldn’t even state the truth of her desires. “Simply different. I want something more.”

“More?” Lady Peregrine shook her head. “You sound like Aurelia here.” She tsked. “Don’t let her fill your head with foolish ideas.”

A marriage of her choosing? That was so foolish, then.

Realization dawned. She finally understood. This jaunt down the marriage mart—she was never expected to voice an opinion through any of it. Her fate was to be decided by Dec all along. That was the price to be paid for the gift of a dowry.

This was her fate, then. Spinsterhood or a loveless marriage to the likes of Strickland.

Only she did not even have the luxury of spinsterhood to fall back on. Her fate was less secure than Aurelia’s. She did not have an elderly aunt in need of a companion. Or Will for a brother who would always see to her care. She had her mother. And Dec. Neither of whom wanted her around. Her mother neglected her for years and Dec had tossed her to the first suitor to come calling.