A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

She nodded weakly. “I’m not entirely experienced in matters such as these.”

His expression softened. “Of course. Indeed you are not.”

“Are you offering, then?” she asked pertly. “Because I’ve yet to be offered anything as far as I can recollect.”

For a moment she thought he would simply shrug off the comment. After all, she had not exactly behaved in the manner of a proper debutante. Proper debutantes did not sneak out to houses of ill repute for illicit liaisons. Nor did they let men not their husbands into their beds. But then he stepped back. She watched in bewilderment as he bent on one knee at her feet.

“Rosalie Hughes . . . will you honor me . . .”

Understanding dawned. She felt her eyes widen in her face. Her hands flew to her mouth. Shaking her head, she reached for his hands in an attempt to urge to his feet. “You don’t have to—”

“ . . . by becoming my wife?”

She nodded mutely, unable to find her voice. She was in the process of tugging on his hands, urging him back to his feet, when the doors suddenly opened.

“Declan, have you seen— Ah!”

Aunt Peregrine looked on the verge of collapsing in the threshold as she took in the scene of Dec on bended knee before Rosalie.

Dec rose and stood beside Rosalie, his hand at her back as they faced his aunt and now his cousin.

Aurelia glowed. “I knew it!” She punched a fist in the air and gave a little bounce.

Dec chuckled. “Well, that takes care of that. I was worried it might be awkward announcing our impending marriage.”

Aunt Peregrine sputtered even as Aurelia rushed Rosalie and kissed both her cheeks exuberantly. “I’m just so thrilled we never have to let you go! Now you don’t need to marry some old goat!”

Rosalie laughed lightly, feeling dizzy from everything that had happened in the last few minutes. Was she really to be married? To Dec?

“Aunt, I’m certain you understand the need for Rosalie to relocate to your home until we’ve married?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh! Of course! We must pack!” She moved in a little circle before heading for the door at a speed Rosalie would not have thought her capable. She was almost out the door before she stopped with a jerk. She looked back at them both with wide, panicked eyes, waving one finger aloft in the air. “Oh, but the wedding! We must discuss! We’ve much to plan!”

“It’s well in hand, Aunt Peregrine. We will discuss all the details later.”

She bobbed her head and then plunged back out the door.

Aurelia remained, smiling at them both with a knowing, smug little grin. She nodded, her brown eyes bright. “You two.” She pointed a finger at each of them. “I knew it. I knew you were mad for each other.”

Rosalie shifted uneasily. She was mad for Dec . . .

“Indeed, cousin?” Dec’s lips curled in amusement, his fingers moving in a small rhythmic stroke at the small of her back that made her think of the way he had touched her last night. The way those fingers had explored her body again and again.

Aurelia arched a fine dark eyebrow. “Indeed. Who would ever have guessed that when you called on us to help chaperone Rosalie, you would fall desperately in love with her?”

Instantly, his hand stopped moving on her back. He stilled so very completely beside her. Everything inside her seized tight, including her lungs. She couldn’t breathe.

She was afraid to even look at him, afraid to see the denial of Aurelia’s words in his expression. But she didn’t need to see his face to know. She felt the denial in the way his hand slipped away and dropped from her back.

He didn’t desperately love her. Of course not. She wasn’t so fanciful and simple-minded to think she had stolen his heart.

He’d bedded her and now he would wed her because he was honorable. Somehow he had overcome his bias against her because she was Melisande’s daughter, but he would not love her. She didn’t even know if he could.

Aurelia was reading too much into it. She would not make that mistake. She would not believe in what wasn’t there. What didn’t exist.

He would marry her but he would never love her. She understood that even if her heart didn’t . . . even if that stupid lump beneath her breastbone ached for more.





Chapter 22


The week passed in a blur. Rosalie moved into the Earl of Merlton’s residence. From there she was ushered into a flurry of activities in preparation for their wedding. Dressmakers. Long hours with Cook poring over the menu. Aunt Peregrine labored over the guest list until shadows rimmed her eyes. All names of people Rosalie didn’t even know, so she had little to contribute in that arena. Then there were the rounds of parties, balls, routs. All carefully selected by Aunt Peregrine. Dec attended with her, dutifully at her side. The perfect fiancé. Blast him. Not so much as a stolen kiss. Not even the brush of his hand against her.

At first she told herself she was imagining things. He was not distant and quiet, but merely overwhelmed with the flurry of activity. But when she had tried to entice him out onto the balcony with her at a dinner party thrown in their honor by a friend of Aunt Peregrine and he politely refused, she knew. He didn’t want to be alone with her.

She was careful from then on not to reach out to him. Cowardly perhaps. She was marrying the man, but she could only take so much hurt and rejection.

“Miss Hughes, you’ve a caller.”

She looked up from the same page she had stared at blindly for the last half hour. Aunt Peregrine was out meeting with the milliner. Aurelia accompanied her. Rosalie had begged off and, for once, stayed behind. She should have guessed her solitude would be short-lived.

“Your mother, Her Grace, the Duchess of Banbury.”

Her stomach sank. She had not seen her mother since Dec fetched her home. “Show her in.” It was inevitable. She would have to face her eventually, and Melisande would have heard of the news by now.

Her mother breezed into the room, a vision in an emerald green day dress trimmed in black ermine. At least she was alone. No Horley. There was that.

“Rosalie,” she exclaimed, kissing her on the cheek before settling into the armchair across from her. “So good to see you! I believe congratulations are in order.” She nodded to the waiting maid. “Biscuits, please. Bring a variety.”

With a nod, the maid curtsied and backed out of the room.

“Well.” Melisande untied the strings from her bonnet, a confection that was mostly ribbons and black feathers to match her stylish dress. “You’ve won quite the coup. A duke! And my title, no less.” She shook her head cheerfully. While her manner was all smiles and warm cheer, there was a certain light in her eyes that made Rosalie uneasy. “Seems you’ll have my leftovers. In more ways than one.”

Rosalie straightened. “I’m sure I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’ll become the Dowager Duchess of Banbury. A dowager.” She shuddered. “Can you imagine? It sounds so old.”

Rosalie gave a wincing smile.

Melisande continued. “You shall become the Duchess of Banbury. A title which used to be mine. And you’ll have Declan.” Her smile grew tight and wide then. “Who also used to be mine.”

Rosalie angled her head, her folded hands tightening in her lap. “Your meaning still eludes me.”

Just then the maid rolled into the room with the tray service. Silence fell as she positioned it between the two of them and poured them each their tea. Rosalie’s foot tapped anxiously beneath her skirts.