Chapter 11 #3
Rosie exchanged an apologetic glance with Bull. Perhaps they should have told her parents they’d planned on traveling to Endymion. But if they had, their snowy interlude in Alnwick would have alarmed them more…
She took a deep breath. “We stopped in Alnwick to meet with the Marquess of Tittle-Tattle, the art collector. He wrote that book I am fond of, remember?” When Mother nodded, Rosie continued, preparing herself for the next onslaught.
“But he was unable to help us, and on the way back to the train—back to you, on time may I hasten to add—well, it was all very awkward. We were ambushed.”
“Ambushed?” Demon bellowed. “Ye allowed my daughter to be attacked, ye felonious cockwobbler?”
Pretending as if she hadn’t heard the interruption, Rosie held Mother’s gaze.
“I was not attacked. Bull saved me, but he went into the river, under the ice. I thought…” She swallowed and dropped her gaze to the tea, remembering the terror of those moments.
What could have been. “When he finally emerged, he was half-dead.”
“Oh dear,” Mother murmured. “He fell through the ice?”
Rosie nodded, sipping the welcoming tea to fortify herself. “I had to save him,” she whispered. “He was almost frozen.”
“Ye should have let him die!” her father roared. “Insidious bunglecunt!”
And Mother huffed as she whirled to face him. “Demon, we are trying to have a conversation like rational adults. If you cannot participate politely, do take yourself off to bed and think about your behavior. I will update you later.”
“Fatuous, irascible clackdish!” Demon glared at Bull, who was sitting on the leather chair in front of the fire, one booted foot resting on the opposite knee, looking at ease as he sipped his tea. “Ye think I’d leave the two women I love most in the world alone with this pugnacious spunk-stocking?”
“Yer mother would be devastated to be left off that short list,” Bull murmured to him, lifting his tea to his lips.
Rosie also hid her smile.
But her mother sighed. “Bull is not the young reprobate you remember, darling. He has not stolen my silver in at least two decades.”
“I’m a changed man, Georgia,” Bull offered mildly. “Mostly.”
Was he thinking of that bill he’d managed to pick out of their mystery attacker’s pocket as they’d fallen through the ice?
“I know, dear.” She sent him a soft smile. “I, at least, can recognize that you have grown into a fine young man with a successful future, the kind of young man any family would be lucky to welcome.” She turned back to Rosie. “So congratulations, my dear. I am so very happy for you. For you both.”
Rosie blinked and set her tea down as she exchanged a confused glance with Bull. His expression was blank, but on purpose; she could see his mind frantically whirling behind his eyes.
“What do you mean, Mother?” she asked cautiously.
Georgia leaned over to pat her hand—her left hand.
The one with the ring. “We received a letter from the Marquess of Tittle-Tattle this morning. He was accepting your father’s patronage for his new book, but as part of the introduction, mentioned he had recently been introduced to you… and your fiancé, a Mr. James Lindsay.”
Ah.
The Significant Look Mother sent toward Da was a silent explanation for why the man was so upset.
There was a moment of silent calm.
And then it ended.
“How fooking dare ye propose to my daughter without my permission!” Tea forgotten, her Da was suddenly stomping back and forth in front of the fire. “Ye think her parents dinnae have the right to ken yer plans ahead of time? Ye pair of jintersnappering cun—”
“Demon,” Mother began in a soft tone. “Remember, you proposed to me without my father’s permission.”
Da turned to her with a scowl even as Rosie tried not to smile, even through her confusion. “That’s because yer father was a complete turdbiscuit!” he roared.
Mother’s Look became quite a bit more Significant. “And you are not being one right now?”
Rosie hid her smirk again.
For his part, Bull was watching Demon with something like…sorrow? There was a disappointment in those gray depths, and Rosie wondered if anyone else could see it.
If he allowed anyone to see it.
“Demon, do try to be happy for your daughter,” Mother began, but Da cut her off with a snarl.
“She cannae marry this shiteweasel—”
“Look,” Bull began, finally allowing some emotion to show as his foot slammed into the ground and he sat forward. “Just because she’s a duke’s daughter—”
“Fook the duke!” Demon roared, whirling on him, jabbing his chest with a finger.
“I rather think that’s my job, Demon,” Rosie’s mother said lightly as she sipped her tea.
Rosie’s Da continued shouting. “The Duke part doesnae matter! She’s my daughter, and ye’re no’ good enough for her!” He threw his hands up as he resumed pacing. “Nae man is good enough for her!”
Bull’s face had paled. He’d frozen, the only thing moving were his eyes as he dropped them to his knees, where his fingers curled into fists. “I ken that,” he said quietly.
And Rosie decided enough was enough. She had to rescue the man she—from her father’s—this was all so tangled!
“Da, Mother…” She held up her hand to display the ring. “This was a ruse, part of our investigation. Lord Tittle-Tattle is a social snob and would not deign to see us unless he knew my rank, and he had to think Bull connected with me.”
Her father’s eyes had narrowed. “So ye’re no’ really engaged?”
Rosie hid her sorrow by focusing on her movements as she pulled the ring from her finger. But when she looked up and saw her mother’s expression—pity, and a little sadness—she curled her hand around the piece of jewelry, unwilling to give it up entirely.
“I…we…no,” she rasped. She swallowed and tried again, forcing her voice into something brisker. “No, it was just a role for the investigation. When he was hurt and I needed to help him, it was easier to maintain the ruse, so we would not be questioned and could protect the portrait.”
Da planted his hands on his hips. “What muffleskunking portrait?”
Sending Bull a glance, wondering if he would mind if she were the one to explain, Rosie took a deep breath—
And was cut off by her mother’s announcement.
“Let us discuss the details of the portrait—and this detective case, which Bull claims is related to our family—in the morning.” This time she raised her brows at Demon, as if daring him to challenge her. “Agreed? We can discuss tomorrow, when everyone is calmer and well-rested. Everyone.”
“What?” Da shook his head with a scowl. “I’m calm. I’m the calmest fooking cockwobbler here. I’m calmer than he is.” He glared at Bull. “Why no’ discuss it now?”
“Because, dear,” Mother sighed with a glint in her eye, “you have worked yourself into a state. I know from experience that the only way to calm you is to take you to our bedroom and take all your clothes off and draw a bath and climb—”
“Georgia, ye willnae finish that sentence,” he growled warningly.
Mother grinned. “You rather left me no choice.”
Rosie had grown up well aware of her parents’ love for one another, and had learned if she needed to visit the library after dinner, she had best walk past their room very quickly, and perhaps with her fingers in her ears.
Other young ladies might be scandalized by such knowledge, but it had always made her pleased to know they still cared so deeply for one another.
It had always made her determined to find love of her own, one day.
Glancing at Bull across the room—his eyes locked on the fire—she thought perhaps she had found it. Even if it had been for a few short days. The way she felt about him now was so very different than the adolescent infatuation of her younger years. But now, just as she understood it…
Things would return to normal.
She was Rosie again, not Rose. He was a stranger to her, not meeting her eye. And everything would go back to the way it was.
“Fine,” Da finally sighed, stalking toward Mother. “But he is leaving in the morning.”
Rosie’s mother merely hummed as her husband snagged her hand and began to drag her toward the door.
“Perhaps it would be best if you retired now as well, Rosie darling,” she called, making it clear with a single look that she wasn’t going to allow her daughter to remain in the parlor with Bull. “Come along.”
“And I’m going to have Mary put him in the farthest wing from her!” Demon was growling as he stalked from the room. “Cannae trust him!”
“Demon, I do not think he is who you must worry about. Besides, Endymion does not have wings.”
“The stables, then!” Da roared, as Rosie glanced back over her shoulder.
Bull was staring at the fire, and no matter how she willed it, he didn’t look up at her. Didn’t wink, didn’t smile, didn’t assure her he remembered the fun they’d had these last days.
Didn’t let her know he missed her closeness. Her hand. Her kisses.
Her fingers squeezed the ring against her palm, and she tried to keep her heart from breaking.