Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Or was it?
Perhaps, now that they were back in London, he’d begun to backslide into that undependable, undesirable marriage prospect everyone had warned her about. Careless in his habits, wild in his behavior…
She shook her head. No. She refused to give those kinds of doubts any space in her mind. She knew him. He wouldn’t backslide or disappoint her, not if he could help it. She must assume he’d lost track of time. She walked to the courtyard, where Marlow’s carriage had already been brought around for the trip to his parents’ town house.
But when she arrived at the Warrens’ home, she saw no sign of Marlow among the bustle of preparations.
“Goodness, dear Rosalind.” Lady Warren, his mother, extricated herself from the mass of milling servants. “How lovely you look. You’re practically regal. That frock is pure perfection. Wait until everyone sees!”
“You look beautiful too, ma’am.” Rosalind smiled at her new mother-in-law, resplendent in a deep pink gown that perfectly suited her dramatic auburn locks. “Have you seen Marlow?”
Lady Warren’s smile faded. “Why, no. I was just going to ask where he was. Didn’t he come with you?”
“I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
A sick, worried feeling twisted Rosalind’s insides. She’d refused to panic until she got here, in hopes she might find him. But he wasn’t here, and he wasn’t at home…
“He went to Maynard Square to do some errands, but that was hours ago. I thought he might have come here instead of coming home.”
“Perhaps he stopped at the club and lost track of time,” said the countess soothingly.
Lost track of time today? thought Rosalind. The day of the ball, and our debut before the ton?
“What shall we do?” she asked aloud.
“Don’t fret, please, darling. I’ll send his friends out to find him and then I’ll give him a good scolding. You should too! Lord Wescott and Lord Augustine arrived early with your brother and are just getting underfoot, to tell the truth. As for you, you must come visit with Ophelia and Jane. There are drinks and refreshments if you wish to celebrate early. Oh, we’ve ordered so much food.”
The countess left to speak to Marlow’s friends. Rosalind watched them confer for a moment, then she turned away, chewing her lip. She couldn’t bear to think of Marlow being so careless, so caddish really, to be late. But the other thought…that he might have encountered an accident or some other trouble…
But if he’d been in an accident, someone would have come to his home to alert his household. Oh, it was hard to smile, but she did smile as Jane and Ophelia came to greet her. The women expressed their own alarm that Marlow wasn’t in attendance as he ought to be, but then reassured her that husbands could be forgetful, especially when it came to social obligations such as balls.
“They really do not like them,” said Ophelia.
“Oh, I know,” said Rosalind. “But he knew I was excited for this.”
“Of course,” said Jane, taking her hand. “He’ll be here soon. He’s probably at home right now, throwing on his clothes while his valet tries to shave him. I’ve seen Townsend do it when he’s run late.”
Elizabeth appeared with her sister Hazel and her husband. While the older ladies fell into easy talk, Elizabeth looked at Rosalind’s strained expression and drew her into a quieter parlor off the ballroom.
“What’s amiss?” she asked. “Oh, dear, what is wrong?”
“Marlow isn’t here.” Rosalind’s throat went tight and she could say no more. She didn’t have to. Her friend knew how much she’d been looking forward to this ball, and how odd and wrong it was for her husband not to be here.
“When did you last see him?” she asked.
“This morning. Late morning. He was only to go out for a couple hours.” She stared into Elizabeth’s unique green eyes, which were enhanced tonight by her flowing mint green gown. Many in the ton gossiped about Elizabeth’s Welsh heritage, her fay coloring, and her not-so-secret psychic gifts. Some even called her a witch, to her family’s dismay. Rosalind was quick to dress down any person who spread unfounded, unflattering rumors about her best friend’s “fairy powers,” but in this moment, she ached for Elizabeth to use any powers she possessed. “I’m afraid he’s hurt,” she said.
“Or lost,” said Elizabeth slowly. “But why would he be lost? When he knows all of London?”
“Lost?” What a peculiar thought, that he would be lost. Hairs rose on Rosalind’s arms, and the back of her neck.
“I’m going goose-pimpled,” she protested. “No, Lisbet, he couldn’t be lost. What if he’s being irresponsible?” She blurted out the deepest fears she hadn’t been able to confide in anyone else. “What if he’s being Mad Marlow again, the one people gossip about, and he’s left for Bath or something? Or gone to some…some place of ill repute, and drunk spirits until he lost track of time?”