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)
“That’s ridiculous.” Elizabeth’s scolding tone made her feel better. “A place of ill repute? I can’t imagine it. How did he behave this morning?”
“I don’t know. Very normally. Very sweetly.” Rosalind flushed, remembering the slow, attentive way he’d made love to her before he’d left. “I don’t think… But I don’t know. Everyone warned me what he was like…before…”
“Before, but not since he fell in love with you. I saw him with you, Rosalind, just a few days ago. He would not return to his old bachelor habits, today of all days.”
Today of all days. It was the same thing she’d thought earlier. “So where is he?”
“It’s too soon to panic,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps he wandered farther than he meant to. Perhaps he met an old friend and lingered to update him on your ill-fated shipwreck. Perhaps he twisted his ankle.”
“Then he would only hire a cab. If he was lost, he would hire a cab and tell them to take him back to Marlborough Street.”
“It is too soon to panic,” said Elizabeth again. “There’s still an hour before the ball. Come, you must explore the ballroom with me. The Warrens throw the best routs, they really do. The flowers and statuary, and all the lights. Come, look with me.”
Elizabeth and the other women did their best to distract and entertain Rosalind, but eventually guests started to arrive, and Marlow still did not appear. Townsend and Wescott returned to accompany their wives into the ball while August stayed out looking. She caught Townsend looking at her, worried, as guests began to crowd into the ballroom. If her brother was worried, she must be worried. She could not greet anyone without her face crumbling. She did not feel able to smile.
“I think I’d better wait upstairs for Marlow,” she told the Warrens. “When he arrives, will you let me know?”
“Of course, darling,” said her mother-in-law, as Lord Warren continued to scan the vast, guest-filled room in his sober manner. Oh, her heart hurt.
Her mother sat upstairs with her, holding her hand, while Elizabeth provided a succession of handkerchiefs when she finally lost hope and let the tears flow. She could not hold them back any longer. “He’s not coming,” she said, sobbing. “He’s abandoned me. I don’t know what has happened.”
“It’s just one ball,” said her mother. “There will be others. Please, don’t cry.”
“It was to be our ball. How is he not here?”
She cycled through so many feelings: worry, confusion, impatience, anger, sadness, then fury, then worry and confusion again. She was afraid. Why would he be lost? Elizabeth’s intuition kept coming back to her. Lost, lost, lost. She wanted to ask her friend if she sensed any more, if she could divine more information about what had happened to her husband, but she knew Elizabeth would speak if she knew anything.
Finally, after hours had passed, Rosalind accepted that neither of them would be making an appearance at his parents’ extravaganza. She stood and shook the wrinkles from her beautiful gown and thought what a waste it had been.
Her parents accompanied her home to Marlborough Street, and Elizabeth came too, promising to stay with Rosalind until they had word of Marlow. Her father said he would hire investigators if her husband did not appear by morning. Her mama chided him that such talk would worry her, but Rosalind was glad of her papa’s reassurance. Investigators could discover what might have happened to her husband. He could be in a gutter somewhere, stripped of his clothes and money, or been thrown into the Thames.
Oh, no. No. She could not imagine such things.
Her lady’s maid brought brandy and Elizabeth urged her to take some, though Rosalind had always been taught that ladies didn’t drink. It did help make her feel warm and sleepy after all her worried sobbing, and she was able to drift to sleep just as the sun was rising. When I wake, she thought, he will be here. When I wake, he’ll be home again and he’ll explain.
When she woke, she felt horribly groggy and sick. Her mother was beside her and reached to stroke her forehead.
“Darling. Sweet darling.”
The servants had brought coffee, tea, and a large breakfast, and left it by her bed. Elizabeth was there, standing beside her brother and father over by the window.
“Marlow?”
He was still not there. Her father wore a pained expression. Her mother looked about to cry.
“What?” she said. “What has happened? Please tell me. Please!”
“Darling. It is not as bad as you think.” She took a breath and pressed a handkerchief to her lips. “Oh, it’s bad, but it’s not what any of us thought. There has been a letter this morning. Your father opened it.”
She handed the piece of paper to Rosalind with the name of a London hotel embossed at the top. She peered down at the messy, smudged writing. In a place of ill repute. Drinking spirits.