The Rose and the Rogue (Ravishing Rosewoods Book 4) by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton [Eaton, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-05T18:30:00+00:00

7

Dragonslayer

“What’s gotten into you?” Annabel asked, slanting Eloise a superior glance out of the corner of her eye as they stood side by side on the edge of the ballroom floor.

Comprised of large marble slabs cut into a rectangular pattern, it held over a hundred couples in the midst of an intricate waltz that Eloise wanted absolutely no part of. While she could dance, she didn’t want to. Not with the first man who had asked, or the second, or the third. After her sixth refusal, they’d seemed to get the hint and had stopped coming around. But her aloof stance–elbows out, jaw tight, mouth set–beside an oversized ice sculpture of a swan hadn’t deterred her sister from approaching.

“Adam St. Clair,” she said stonily. “I loathe him with the fiery passion of a thousand suns. He is the worst human being to ever grace the earth. If he fell into a hole, and continued falling for the rest of eternity, I wouldn’t feel an ounce of pity. I wouldn’t even throw him a rope. Actually, I would throw him a rope. Then when he’d almost reached the top I’d the cut the rope. Then I would–”

“I get the idea,” Annabel interrupted, rolling her eyes. “You despise him, he’s terrible, blah, blah, blah. You needn’t go on at such length about it.”

“I was making a point,” Eloise grumbled under her breath.

“You hate a man. Consider me shocked.”

“What are you doing over here?” She peered past Annabel’s shoulder. “Where is Ezra? Go bother him and leave me alone.”

“Ezra, Perth, and Graham went outside for a cigar.” Annabel gave an absent turn of her wrist. “Why can’t I just come and have a chat with my sister? Why must you always be so hostile, Eloise? It’s unbecoming. No wonder no one has asked you to dance.”

“They did ask me.”

“And?”

“I said no.”

Her sister sighed. “For someone who tries so hard to be different, you’re appallingly predictable.”

“I’m not trying to be anything other than who I am.”

“And who is that?”

When I find out, Eloise thought to herself, I’ll let you know.

“Where are Bridget and Lenora?” she asked, deftly changing the subject.

“Bridget is half asleep on her feet, and Lenora is hurling the shrimp she ate for dinner into a chamber pot in the women’s lavatory. I offered to hold her hair, but she shooed me away and thank goodness she did.” Annabel shuddered. “Can you imagine any of that getting on this gown?”

“How would you ever recover.” Eloise ran an absent fingertip along the ice swan’s curled neck. Under the heat of the chandeliers, the swan was slowly melting into a puddle, drip by steady drip. She knew what that was like. To dissolve so gradually that you didn’t realize half of you was missing until it was too late.

Each time she bit her tongue from saying what she really wanted, she melted a little more. Every time she wore clothes that were too tight. Or danced with someone when she didn’t want to. Or agreed for the sake of it.

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