A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin Read Online Free Page B

certain what came next. With her mother, one could never be certain. That much she had learned. One thing she did know, however, was that she could not count upon her. She would have to forge her own future. Rosalie rolled onto her side and tucked her hands beneath her cheek as the image of Declan filled her mind.
    He had changed. At age fifteen he had been a mere shadow of the man he was now. He was more fleshed out now. Muscular, his chest and shoulders broad, filling out his jacket to an impressive degree. She’d seen very few gentlemen in Yorkshire. Just local villagers and neighboring farmers. If she wasn’t careful, she would let the old infatuation return. And nothing good could come of that.
    Declan would not—­
    She stopped the thought, crushing it with a wince. She must cease to think of him thusly. She was practical. He was a duke. She was a nobody. Daughter of a barrister and a woman he had never accepted as his father’s wife. She should simply consider herself fortunate he had agreed to let her stay on . . . and begin planning for the future.
    She blinked in the darkness and closed her eyes only to a deeper dark, wondering why that thought did not provide her with any real comfort. It was well and good to decide she needed a plan, but until she had that plan, she doubted she would sleep well.
    With a sigh, she opened her eyes again and stared sightlessly ahead for long hours into the night, her mind churning. Only as dawn tinged the sky, peeking through the partially opened drapes, did she succumb to sleep.

 
    Chapter 4
    A unt Peregrine and Aurelia arrived soon after breakfast—a feat that duly impressed Declan. Especially since they came armed with their maids, too many trunks and valises to count, and a slit-­eyed cat that looked thoroughly displeased to be carted about.
    He had sent a missive explaining the situation and requesting that they stay with him until the matter with Rosalie could be resolved. He could not imagine he would require their presence longer than a week. He’d already sent several of his footmen about Town. He was confident he would know the location of Melisande by the end of the day. She was hardly inconspicuous. She thrived on attention.
    Although he didn’t expect her to be in Town. That would be too easy. And he would have likely heard if she was. He always heard. Rumors he ignored. ­People dropped tidbits of his stepmother’s activities in his ear as though he might actually care. They watched his face closely as though they might witness his outrage at the exploits of his father’s widow. They were disappointed every time.
    She was the type of female that caused ripples wherever she went. She’d taken many a lover since his father’s death, and doubtlessly during his father’s life—­only then with more discretion. He’d heard no gossip of late, so she must be out of Town. Perhaps in Bath. Or the Lake District. Over the years, whenever his mind brushed on the memory of Rosalie, it was with the thought that she was better off away at her rustic school. He supposed it should have occurred to him that she would eventually leave the schoolroom.
    He joined his aunt and cousin in the drawing room. The same room where he had found his stepsister the night before, sleeping like some child who had fallen to slumber with no care or thought for her surroundings. He had directed the massive amount of luggage to be carried upstairs, with Aurelia’s belongings being placed in the bedchamber beside Rosalie. They were of like age, and he rather liked Aurelia, even if she was one of those creatures he dreaded—a young lady of the ton . She would be a good influence.
    Rosalie with her candid stare and drab garments flashed before his eyes. She dressed atrociously. Clearly, a proper lady’s wardrobe was not of any importance at the school she had attended. Or was it simply because her mother had neglected to send