Lady Evan Wins the Day, The Cousins Book Two (Rough Draft)

Prologue

1808

Twelve-year-old Rosalind Emerson unclasped her hands from her lap to curl her fingers into the cushioned seat she was on. The movement of the carriage was rough, and it was difficult to keep herself from tumbling into her companions, who were seated across from her. Was it the constant motion or nerves that made her stomach twist?

"Good heavens, child, can you not sit naturally?"

"Sorry, ma'am," Rosalind said in a low voice. She kept eyes on her lap and remained as she was, knowing that to lean back would only result in a scolding about sitting improperly. She'd learned quickly that she could do nothing right.

"What was that? What did you say? Do not mumble and speak to the floor. I cannot hear you."

"I meant no offense, Aunt Lawrence," Rosalind said, miserable at being forced to raise her gaze.

With a disapproving tut, the woman shook her head. "You have been woefully brought up," she said in a mournful tone. "I pray my dear niece might have a good effect on you, but I fear you will only corrupt sweet Emily. Mr. Lawrence has told me he has the same fears, did you not, Mr. Lawrence."

The thin figure who was seated next to the garrulous woman had nothing to say on the matter. He stared out the window at the passing scenery as though it had his fullest attention. In fact, Rosalind couldn't think of a single word he'd said since she'd been compelled to climb into the carriage.

His wife more than made up for this situation.

"You do realize the great honor that has been bestowed on you, do you not? It is not every penniless orphan who has a kind, generous uncle to take her in."

Mrs. Lawrence had nothing but praise to give about the mysterious uncle Rosalind was journeying to stay with. The girl couldn't remember her mother's brothers ever visiting in London, so she could only hope the words of praise were true.

And a cousin! What would she be like? Would they be friends? She couldn't possibly be as a high and mighty as the other cousin from the Lawrence side of the family, Percival Ormund. All he'd done was look down his nose and then ignored her altogether.

"Rosalind Emerson, did you hear a word of what I just said?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Rosalind shook her head on instinct. Somehow, it would be worse to admit she hadn't been listening.

As it was, Mrs. Lawrence didn't seem to take notice of whether Rosalind answered or not. "You will have to learn some manners quickly. Dear Mr. Lawrence has had too many trials in his life to be plagued with an ungrateful, ill-mannered child about."

For a brief moment, anger rose up in Rosalind's heart. She bit her lip to keep from arguing how her mother had spent many hours instructing her on how a young lady ought to behave. Mentioning her mother would only result in a scold about bad decisions and how easy young ladies could fall prey to unscrupulous men.

Mrs. Lawrence had already made such a speech immediately after she arrived to collect Rosalind. Given the woman's tendency to use any topic to instruct a person, Rosalind wasn't inclined to risk causing another one for no reason.

She dared to glance at her uncle. Mr. Gerald Lawrence had been her mother's younger brother. Rosalind had hoped the man would share fond memories from his shared childhood with her mother, but such had not yet happened. Maybe it never would, given the man's subdued nature.

The carriage shifted to the right as it made a turn off the road. "Finally. We've arrived," Mrs. Lawrence declared with delight. "Oh, if only we would have had room for Brutus. He adores being able to run free around the manor."