"If you're waiting until you feel talented enough to make it, you'll never make it." Criss Jami, Healology

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Chapter Five

"Why would I lie?" Derek immediately demanded to know, looking incredibly concerned as he furrowed his brow.

Rose bit down on her lip. "Perhaps you are trying to curry favour with my family, I don't know."

Derek scoffed, looking utterly offended at the insinuation, and Rose felt incredibly guilty for assuming it. At that moment, Rose wanted nothing more than to be away from Pendleton Park and safely confined in her bedchamber. "Curry favour? I haven't given a woman a compliment in a long time but I didn't know it was this hard."

Was it really a genuine compliment? She'd never received one from a man before. It was strangely unsettling. But that was her own fault. She wasn't sure how to accept them without sounding facetious. "Please forgive me," murmured Rose. "Tell Emmett that I'll await you in the carriage." She stood up from the piano stool and tried to make her way swiftly to the door, desperate to escape him, but Derek stopped her, holding her gently by the arm. She met his green eyes timidly.

"You are curious, Lady Rose," he said quietly, searching her face, before releasing her.

Rose quickly escaped from the music room feeling foolish for suggesting that Derek would want to curry favour with her family. He and Stephen had been very pleasant house guests, what need would they have to be false?

She knew it was a rather pathetic reason to be self-conscious. So many other features of one's self were more important than beauty, but Rose had grown up in an environment where women who were fair of face would secure husbands. Which was why Charlotte was the talk of the town whenever she attended a party. She would have had a thousand offers were she not so miserable in London after Nate had left for America. Obviously beauty was not enough to overcome sullenness.

***

Rose didn't see much of Derek or Stephen for the rest of the week. She wasn't asked to go to Pendleton Park again, not that she was particularly desperate to. Instead she spent the time with Bess and her mother, who were organising the ball for that Friday.

Invitations had already been sent out to every nobleman and woman in the neighbouring counties, a strings band had already been hired and Mrs Weston was well prepared with the sustenance that would be provided.

"Are you alright, Rosie? You've been awfully quiet as of late," Bess asked as they sat down to afternoon tea in the drawing room after dressing the ballroom for most of the day.

"Yes, I'm alright," lied Rose as she sipped her tea slowly.

"Would you like to try again?" Bess called her on her lie. At that moment, the drawing room door opened and Anna entered the room with the children. David, the attentive older brother that he was, held the smaller Imogen's hand as they walked while Alexandra wandered in on her own. Bess' face lit up as she opened her arms to receive her children. "Hello, my darlings!" she cried, lifting each one onto the settee to sit by her. "Thank you, Anna," Bess said gratefully.

She smiled warmly. "Will there be anything else?" Anna asked.

"No, that's alright. I'll ring for you later when it's time to dress for dinner," Bess replied, before turning her attention back to her children.

"Mama, is there going to be a party?" David asked curiously.

"Yes, Davy, tomorrow night," Bess explained. "Are you going to make sure that your sisters are sleeping soundly?"

Davy beamed, flashing his tiny, white teeth. "Yes, Mama," he said, sounding proud to have the responsibility.

Bess fished three biscuits off of the tray that had been brought up for them for afternoon tea and fed them to David, Alexandra and Imogen. "Do not think I have forgotten about you, miss," Bess said to Rose. "What is going on really?"

A man had told her that she was pretty, and she'd rebuffed him ever so rudely by doubting his character. She really owed him an apology. Not that she'd seen him. Neither Derek nor his father were at dinner each night and it didn't seem to faze Emmett. Why would it? Emmett had his own business to worry about.

"Sometimes I wish I could be like you, Bess," Rose admitted.

"Me?" Bess raised her eyebrows. "Why?"

Didn't Bess see it? "Nothing affects you." Rose grinned. "You have a cynical comment for anything and you have more backbone than any man."

Bess pursed her lips. "Yes to the two latter, but everything affects me, sweetheart. And my attitude has been known to get me into trouble so I wouldn't encourage it. Rosie, I wish you could see yourself the way we see you." She cupped her cheek affectionately. "You are magnificent, Rose. The number of names on your dance card does not define you. The age at which you marry does not define you. I married at five and twenty! And before Emmett stumbled into Little Cross I had no intention of marrying at all. You are twenty, my darling, you are still brand new, still learning. Enjoy it. Don't fret. Don't worry. Don't doubt. Breathe. Smile. Beauty is not defined by one's features, but by one's actions. You constantly compare yourself to Charlotte, but you, Rosie, are my definition of beautiful."

Rose hadn't realised that she'd begun to cry as Bess spoke. It was one of the most, if not the most incredible speeches she'd ever heard. To think that someone thought so highly of her was truly heart-warming. But it was one thing to say such things, when society disagreed with Bess. No matter how good she was, she would always be judged by the number of names that she had on her dance card and the age at which she would marry. She looked forward to a time where this was not so.

Rose wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her gown and looked down at her young nephew and nieces who sat on and beside their mother on the settee. "You have a prized gem as your mother," she whimpered. "Be very good to her."

While both Alexandra and Imogen peered at her, not truly understanding what their Aunt Rose was upset about, David was a little more perceptive.

"Aunt Rose, why are you sad?" He placed his hand sympathetically on Rose's thigh. If he were fifteen years older and not a relative, such a scandalous action would have resulted in a swift marriage.

"I am not sad, Davy," she replied honestly. They were happy tears.

"Come on, let us leave Aunt Rose be," Bess instructed, helping Alexandra and David off of the settee, while keeping hold of Imogen on her hip. "I hope you take heed of my words, but I know you, and I know you won't believe me so easily. When you are announced into the ballroom tomorrow night, you shall walk in with your head held high. Behave as though you do not need any names on your dance card. There is nothing a man desires more than a woman he can't have."

Rose watched as they left the drawing room. She settled back down on the settee and nibbled on a biscuit. She wished it were that simple. She wished she could walk into a ballroom with all the confidence in the world, but no matter how hard she tried, the self-deprecating thoughts always taunted her. Once a shy girl, always a shy girl.

***

The next evening was the ball and as Rose was getting ready, she could hear the music from downstairs and the carriages arriving. She was happy that so many guests had flocked to Ascot with only a few days' notice.

Gabrielle fixed Rose's dark hair in intricate braids, interweaving them with small sprigs of lavender, the same colour as the gown she wore. The dress was short sleeved, with gathered lace capping her shoulders. The bodice was tight and beautifully embroidered with flowers using darker purple thread and the skirt flared from her waist in the most delicate fashion. Rose dusted her own face with powder, covering her overly flushed cheeks.

"You shall be the belle of the ball, milady," Gabrielle gushed once she was finished fixing Rose's hair.

"I shall try," Rose said half-heartedly. She rose from her dressing table and proceeded to make her way out of her bedchamber and towards the staircase that led down to the foyer.

"Rosie! Rosie, Rosie!" exclaimed Marie, also exiting her bedchamber. Marie looked very beautiful. One wouldn't know that she was fifty years old. Draped in an elegant golden gown, Marie walked with a look of determination in her brown eyes. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, secured around another jewelled tiara. She still wore the black onyx around her neck, just as she always did. Seeing that necklace there, and knowing the differences that she and Bess had, reminded Rose that her mother was still human.

"You look lovely, Mama," Rose complimented as Marie latched onto her arm.

Marie disregarded the compliment. "You mustn't leave my side, Rosie," Marie instructed. "Not at all."

"Why, Mama?"

"Because the elder Mr Montgomery caught me this morning before he and his son departed for the day and he asked me to reserve him the first dance," Marie spat, turning her nose up at the idea.

Rose smirked. She knew that Stephen wasn't genuinely interested in romancing her mother. She would never believe that a man would willingly put himself in a position where Marie would ridicule him. "You cannot refuse, Mama, it's rude."

"Which is why I need you. We must look occupied. If he thinks I am otherwise engaged then he will not approach."

Rose doubted that. "Mama, can't you just be kind?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rosie," hushed Marie as they descended the stairs. "I am a perfectly pleasant person."

Rose just rolled her eyes. If she was to stand beside her mother for the evening, then she knew that she would never be standing alone.

Rose then wondered if her friend, Michael Cornell, had received his invitation in time. She hadn't seen him for several weeks and she was looking forward to his entertaining conversation once more.

Once in the foyer, they welcomed several of the incoming guests, all dressed in their finest gowns and coats. Marie shined as a hostess, appearing so warm and inviting.

They waited their turn as the guests were announced into the ballroom, the dancing music growing louder and louder. When they finally reach the double doors, Rose was astounded at how beautiful the ballroom looked. The centre of the floor was swarming with happy, laughing couples as they danced the quadrille. In the midst, Rose spied Charlotte and Nate, looking as blissful as ever as they danced, obviously enjoying a night away from their children. Rose didn't envy her as much as she had once. She was just incredibly happy for them.

"Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Ascot," called the announcer from the top of the stairs. Rose collected her dance card as he went on to call her name. "The Lady Rose Wilde."

Rose fidgeted with the stiff piece of parchment as she and Marie both lifted a glass of champagne off of a tray carried by one of their footmen. Rose then spotted Stephen and Derek, the guests of honour, conversing with Emmett, Bess and a collection of local aristocrats. They looked completely comfortable, entertaining and in their element.

Rose's eyes drifted down to her dance card and she read the many dances that would be taking place until early the next morning.

"I'm told in England that a man must ask a woman to pencil him in for a dance. I can't just ask."

Rose jumped with fright. She hadn't seen Derek leave the party and come up to her. Before her, he was dressed in English tails and he looked very handsome indeed. She liked that he'd made the effort to comply with tradition, something he enjoyed fighting against.

"Yes, you must ask a woman if there is room," Rose replied timidly, trying to pluck up the courage to apologise to him. She had been wrong.

"Do you have room?" he proceeded to ask.

Rose showed him her dance card, indicating that it was very empty. Derek took the card from her, quietly telling her that he would return soon.

"Rosie, I thought we had an agreement," Marie muttered, though Stephen, who had come over to join them, heard.

"Wehad an agreement, Your Grace." He grinned. "Shall we dance?" Stephen too was wearing English tails. Rose wondered if during the week they had visited a tailor and had purchased something suitable for a ton event.

Marie pursed her lips. "Do you know how to dance?"

"I've been watching. If I miss a step then I can improvise," he said confidently.

"I'm British, we never improvise," Marie snapped.

"Well, I'm American, and we do what we need to in order to get the job done. I'm asking you to dance, Your Grace. Are you going to leave me standing here?" He held out his hand to a stubborn Marie.

"Mama, the only acceptable way to refuse a man's dance offer is if your dance card is full," Rose reminded her playfully.

Marie reluctantly placed her gloved hand in Stephen's and he led her away just as the Valse d'Amélie begun. Rose stifled a giggle as she knew her mother would look most sour realising that she would be twirled around while dancing one of the most romantic dances. Several couples, both married and courting, took the dance floor.

"Perhaps this is a little presumptuous of me."

Derek frightened Rose again. She really needed to be more aware of her surroundings. He handed Rose back her dance card and she realised that he'd written his name down for every dance. She'd never before had a full dance card, nor a partner who wished to dance all his dances with her.

"Oh, my," gasped Rose. "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm sorry how I behaved the other day. It was not polite and I'm never rude. You had every right to question me. You don't know my character, you couldn't have known better. It was perfectly plausible to think that I might want to curry favour. But it wasn't true. I was being genuine. Please do not doubt me when I saw you look just as lovely tonight as you did the other day."

Rose was thankful that she'd powdered her face as she could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. But as Bess said, beauty was defined by one's actions. While society disagreed, she knew the right thing would be to fall on her sword and apologise as well. "I'm sorry as well. I'm not very good at accepting compliments."

"I noticed," he chuckled. "I'd like to begin again and I'd like to dance with you. Like my father, I have no idea how to do these dances, but this looks like a waltz and I've danced one of those in my time. Shall we?"

Rose was so grateful that he was so forgiving. He was an untitled gentleman. If he kept behaving like this then she was sure to be in love with him in no time, which would in turn break her heart just as soon as he returned to America. She had to be careful. He was her brother's age, he most likely only saw her as a child anyway.

Derek pulled her onto the dance floor, in and amongst the couples, and led her in the beautiful waltz rather easily. They smiled and laughed and conversed about silly things through three dances. Rose laughed mainly at the missteps that Derek took as he tried to learn the dances on the move.

The announcer caught Rose's attention as he called a familiar name.

"The Most Honourable Michael Cornell, the Marquess of Juniper."

Rose beamed when she saw Michael confidently descend the stairs. His charcoal coloured hair was slicked back and his wide smile dominated his handsome face. She noticed several people begin to whisper, but Michael didn't seem to notice. He didn't allow rumours to faze him. If he did, then he would never leave his home.

"Please excuse me for a moment," Rose said quickly to Derek as she left the dance floor to welcome her friend.

Michael spotted her instantly, his honey-coloured eyes warming as she joined him. He placed a friendly kiss on her cheek. "Ah, Rosie, how I've missed our little dalliance," he teased.

"Hush," giggled Rose, ignoring the horrified expressions on a few of the guests.

Michael always dressed impeccably, and was often the desire of several of the naïve young debutantes who hadn't listened to the rumours that spread around the haughty older women. In Michael's eyes, how he behaved behind closed doors was not the business of others. "Have you room on your dance card for me?" he asked hopefully. "You know you are the only young lady I like to dance with."

"My dance card is full!" she replied happily.

"Really? Rosie, that's wonderful. I don't suppose the young gentleman whose time I am occupying is the handsome man glaring at me there." Michael smirked and motioned behind Rose's head.

Rose looked over her shoulder and just as Michael had said, Derek was standing on the outskirts of the dancing couples watching them intently, glaring at Michael as if he were wishing him to burst into flames. Could it be jealousy? She'd seen similar looks on the faces of Emmett and Nate when either Bess or Charlotte were being flirted with by another man. "You would be correct in assuming so," she confirmed.

"Let us tease him some more for good measure, yes?" He winked as he kissed Rose on the cheek once again.