Chapter 5
The morning brought no escape from the reckoning Rose had been dreading since the moment she’d recognized Lord James Balfour on that dusty road.
Except not Lord Balfour. Just…James. It felt odd not thinking of them as gentry. Her mother had called him Master James most of the time.
Will had been the heir apparent, bearing his father’s lesser title—the earl of something, if she remembered correctly—until he would take over the dukedom on their father’s death. Enoch had a different title, passed through their mother. The Baron of Stafford, or something close to that.
If Will was gone, did that mean Enoch was now the earl?
And James a baron? The titles of the peerage had always been a bit convoluted in her mind, probably because they’d left England when she was four.
No matter how the inherited designations had changed with Will’s death, the fact remained—the Balfour family were peers of the realm.
And she would be one of their servants.
They’d reached the ranch so late last night, everyone else had already been asleep. For her part, even after collapsing into the familiar bed of her childhood, she’d barely slept. So many memories she’d long-since forgotten surfaced like spring wildflowers pushing through snow.
How many times had she dreamed of James coming to rescue her in Virginia City? It’d been a hopeless wish. Something she’d known couldn’t come true. James hadn’t known where she was. And in truth, she’d only been the help. A servant. Why would he come after her?
She’d prayed so many times too. If James wouldn’t save her, maybe God would. She’d sent up desperate, whispered pleas in the dark. Please let me go home. Please let someone find me. Please let this end.
She’d stopped praying eventually, when the silence from heaven grew too heavy. Too disappointing.
But somehow, she’d made it back to the Balfour ranch. Maybe—just maybe—some of those prayers had been heard after all.
Now, she stood hiding outside the dining room. She had to face them all—the brothers who’d once been her dearest friends. Before her mother whisked her away with hushed words about never being welcome here again.
She smoothed her blue skirt, the only other dress she’d managed to squeeze into her bag, and stepped into the dining room.
Conversation died as though someone dropped a curtain over the scene. Five pairs of eyes turned toward her—Enoch’s piercing blue gaze, Robert’s gentle brown eyes, Thomas’s curious stare, and James’s green eyes that seemed to search her face for something she wasn’t sure she could give.
A woman she didn’t recognize sat beside Enoch, her condition unmistakable, even seated. One hand rested protectively over her rounded belly.
“Rose!” Mrs. Wang’s voice cut through the stillness as the elderly Chinese woman hurried from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Dear child, let me look at you.”
Suddenly everyone was rising from their chairs, moving toward her with grins and words piled on top of each other.
Mrs. Wang reached Rose first, taking her hands in those dear, weathered ones. “Still so beautiful like your mama.” Her dark eyes glistened. “But too thin, child. We’ll fix that.”
“Mrs. Wang.” The burning in her eyes and throat made Rose’s voice crack. Mrs. Wang looked older, her black hair now mixed with a great deal of silver, but her smile hadn’t changed a bit—warm and encompassing, like being wrapped in a quilt fresh from the sunshine.
“Rose.” Enoch stepped forward. He’d changed so much. As a boy, he’d been tall and lanky, yet this man bore broad shoulders and a quiet, commanding presence. When he smiled, though, she caught a glimpse of the brother who’d once taught her to skip stones across the creek. “Welcome home.”
Home. That word again, the one that made her chest tighten with equal parts longing and fear.
Robert appeared at her other side, his gentle eyes crinkling with genuine pleasure. “It’s been far too long, Rose. You look well.”
“Thank you.” Yet were his words actually true? The mirror in her room this morning had shown her a woman haunted, with shadows around her eyes and a wariness etched into her bones.
Thomas, taller now but still bearing that mischievous glint his eyes had held even as a tot, bounded forward with the same enthusiasm as back then. “Rose! I can’t believe you’re really here. Wait until you see how much the ranch has grown—”
“Thomas.” James’s voice carried a gentle warning. “Let her breathe.”
The woman, heavy with child, approached, one hand supporting her back.
She was lovely, with dark hair and warm brown eyes that held a quiet intelligence. “I’m Mandie, Enoch’s wife.” Her smile was gentle, welcoming. “We’re so glad you’re here. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Heat crept up her neck. What exactly had they said?
That she’d run away without a word? “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Balfour.
Congratulations on your coming addition.
” Should she have said Lady Balfour? Just because the brothers didn’t want their titles used didn’t mean this woman was just as unpretentious.
“Call me Mandie, please.” Her hand moved protectively over her belly. “And thank you. We’re very excited, though I confess I’m grateful you’re here to help Bea. I’ve been feeling rather useless lately.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Wang waved the comment away. “Enough standing around. Rose needs breakfast, and this baby needs its mama sitting down.”
She bustled toward Rose, taking her elbow with gentle firmness. “Come, child. Your place is here, between Robert and James.”
Rose’s stomach clenched at the mention of her place, as though eleven years hadn’t passed, as though she belonged here now simply because she once had.
But she allowed herself to be guided to the chair, acutely aware of James sitting beside her, his bulk both comforting and unsettling.
Once they’d all sat, Enoch bowed his head and thanked the Lord for bread, for strength to work, for the baby, and for “old friends come home.” No flourish. No sermon. Just a few plain words that landed soft as a quilt.
As plates were passed and conversations resumed, it felt like she was caught in a strange suspension between past and present.
The dining room looked exactly as she remembered—the same heavy oak furniture, the same view of the mountains through tall windows, even the same chip in the seat of her chair.
Yet everything felt different through the lens of her adult eyes, smaller somehow, welcoming in a different way.
“Do you remember”—Enoch buttered a thick slice of Mrs. Wang’s fresh bread—“how you used to insist on helping with the morning milking, even though you were afraid of the cows?”
“I was not afraid,” Rose protested automatically, then caught herself. The defense had come so naturally. “I was…cautious.”
Robert chuckled. “Cautious enough to hide behind James every time Bessie looked at you.”
“Bessie was enormous.” It was remarkable how easily she fell into the familiar rhythm of their teasing. “And she had very judgmental eyes.”
Thomas laughed. “She still does. Though she’s gotten lazy in her old age—barely lifts her head when you call her from the pasture now.”
“You still have her?” The question slipped out before Rose could stop it.
“Of course, though she’s retired now,” James said quietly. “Some things are too precious to let go.”
The weight of his words settled over the table like morning mist, and heat rose to her cheeks. She focused on her plate, cutting her eggs into precise pieces while the conversation continued around her.
She hadn’t expected this warmth, this easy acceptance.
Her mother had always spoken of their departure in hushed, urgent tones—how the Balfours would never forgive what had happened.
And then, when she was twelve and Vincent began to require her to sing with Mama, Mama had told her what actually had happened to make them leave the Balfours.
She’d understood why they couldn’t come back here.
She’d always assumed the Balfour family knew the truth and would hate her for it. Was it possible they didn’t know?
“Tell us about yourself, Rose,” Mandie said gently, setting down her teacup. “What have you been doing these past years?”
The question she’d been dreading. Rose’s fork paused halfway to her mouth as six expectant faces turned toward her. “I’ve been in Virginia City,” she said carefully. “I…performed. Singing.”
“Singing!” Mrs. Wang clapped her hands together. “I knew it. You always had such a beautiful voice, even as a little one. Remember how you used to sing while you helped me with the washing?”
Rose managed a smile. “I remember.”
“Virginia City must have been exciting.” Thomas leaned forward. “All those mining fortunes being made and lost. I heard they have theaters there now, real fancy ones.”
“Some.” She took a small bite to buy herself time. How could she explain the smoky back room of Murphy’s Saloon, the calculating eyes of men who saw her as entertainment rather than a person? “It’s a…busy place.”
Robert spoke in a gentle tone, like he could sense her discomfort. “Well, you’ll find it much quieter here. Mrs. Wang, perhaps after breakfast, you could show Rose around? I imagine much has changed.”
Gratitude flooded her, and she smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
Mrs. Wang beamed. “Yes, yes. New stove, bigger pantry. And I teach you my grandmother’s recipe for steamed cabbage—very good for strengthening the blood.”
“I’d love to learn it.” Truly. The thought of spending her days in the familiar warmth of Mrs. Wang’s kitchen, learning recipes instead of dodging unwanted advances, felt like stepping into sunlight after years in the shadows.
“Wonderful.” Enoch pushed back from the table, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. “We’ll be working on the haying in the north pasture today.”
Robert stood as well, but his gaze lingered on Rose with that same gentle consideration his tone held moments ago. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. We want you to feel comfortable here.”
“Thank you.” Her words came out too soft, but the brightness that entered his gaze warmed her insides. Robert possessed a good heart. She could see that from only these few interactions.
After the men filed out, their boots echoing on the wooden floors and their voices carrying back from the hallway, some of the tension eased from her shoulders.
“Rose.”
She glanced back to see James lingering in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame. His gaze locked on her, his eyes earnest. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Then he turned and left before she could respond, leaving her with Mrs. Wang and Mandie—and the tumult of her emotions—in the sudden quiet of the dining room.