“I don’t want to be cruel, but perhaps it would be best to simply accept the fact that your sister is gone. There’s nothing you can do to bring her back. Trust me, sometimes you have to simply forget.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking. I can’t simply forget my sister.”
Nanci glanced at the stocking she still held, then tossed it on the floor with a look of disgust. “If you refuse to listen to reason, I hope and pray you will keep me out of it from now on.”
“Why? What are you so afraid of?” Grasping at straws, she said, “Are you afraid of someone here finding out who I am and that I haven’t given up? Are you afraid of Douglass finding out?” When Nanci closed her eyes, Rosalind pushed further. “Are . . . are you afraid of Douglass?”
“Leave Mr. Sloane out of this. And while you’re at it, you should probably never speak to Mr. Armstrong again either.”
“Reid is going to help me. We’ve become friends.”
“I promise you, he is not your friend.” After peeking out the doorway, she said, “Besides, Veronica has her sights set on him, even if her mother prefers Mr. Newhouse. If Veronica even thinks that you could be a rival, she will make your life miserable. She enjoys that.”
“I could never be a rival. And besides, how would she ever know I was talking to him? Are you going to tell her?”
“Don’t be so naive. I’m not the only person who has eyes and ears, Rosalind. And I’m sure not the only person in this house who has noticed that you are way too curious for your own good.”
With one last disparaging look, she walked out of the room.
Feeling as if she’d just run for blocks, Rosalind breathed heavily as she watched Nanci’s departure. She felt uneasy and afraid. And, unfortunately, as if there were now even more questions to answer and worry about.
Every time she thought she had gone two steps forward, it seemed that she was destined to take another four steps back. Picking up the pair of scissors, she carefully started removing Nanci’s stitches. Maybe if she found some control, things would start to get easier. Maybe if she could begin to trust herself, she could actually do something that would help Miranda.
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Abrams popped her head in the room while walking by. “Rosalind, I thought Nanci was going to help you with the mending. Where is she?”
“Um, I’m not sure. Perhaps Miss Veronica needs her.”
Mrs. Abrams sighed. “Probably so. Our young lady has a big evening tonight. The Uptons are having a ball and Veronica needs to look her best.”
Walking into the room, she casually picked up the pair of stockings Rosalind had just repaired. “These look very nice, Rosalind. You do very good work.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“When you finish, go to the conservatory to see if the girls there need help dusting.” She paused, seeming to realize that it was a bit out of the ordinary to keep heaping chores on Rosalind’s shoulders. “You don’t mind, do you, dear?”
What could she say? “Not at all.”
“Good. It’s best to keep busy here, I’ve found. If we’re busy, it keeps us on our toes. And out of trouble.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rosalind replied. But as she gathered her basket of needles and thread, she wondered why Mrs. Abrams had felt the need to remind her of that.
Had something new just happened? Or was she afraid that Rosalind would discover that something unfortunate already had?
CHAPTER 16
Eloisa Carstairs was everything Reid Armstrong’s family had ever imagined a perfect prospective bride could be.
Slim and elegant, perfectly attired and perfectly mannered, Eloisa was the epitome of society, the personification of all that was genteel and good. If Reid made a match with her, his parents would be thrilled. Blessed with golden hair and eyes the color of pale aquamarines, she was the picture-perfect beauty they had hoped for him when they’d sent him to expensive schools and later moved to their spacious house along Michigan Avenue.
Reid knew this. He imagined Eloisa knew the same thing as he carefully pressed his lips on her gloved hand.
But their alliance was proof that not even a perfect match equaled attraction or desire. In short, though they did share a slight friendship, it seemed they would never claim anything more.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Carstairs.”
“Indeed. It has been some time. Since the Griffins’ soiree, I believe.” Reid knew she was referencing that so he would understand that their time together had been remembered.
“I remember our waltz well,” he replied, doing much the same.