Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Will you come tonight, Rose, please? I am sure it would do you the world of good. It has been almost a week now, and I do not want you to be stuck in this house,” Margaret said.
“I do not feel well, Mother,” Rose said numbly.
“I think a night out would be beneficial. I know you are still grieving, but there is a time for all things to pass, and life must go on. There will be no pressure on you to dance with anyone. Just spend time with your father and me. I promise you will feel better, and it might help you to stop dwelling on... recent events,” Margaret said.
Over the past week, her mother made a sincere effort to stop referring to Edmund by his name or title.
Rose sighed. Margaret was insistent, and Rose sensed that it would take more energy to argue with her than it would to simply attend the charity event.
In truth, she was growing tired of sitting at home as well.
There were not enough distractions to keep her amused, and her thoughts often returned to Edmund and the sorrow that clung to her stomach.
“Very well,” she said.
Jenny helped her get ready. As Rose was adding the finishing touches to her outfit, Jenny went to fasten the pendant around her neck. Rose shuddered, and her breath caught.
“Wait,” Rose said, holding up her hand. Jenny glanced at the pendant and wore an apologetic look.
“Apologies, my lady, I did not think…”
“It might be best if you lock that thing away.”
“Would you like me to get rid of it?” Jenny asked.
“No, that will not be necessary. It was a gift, and it would be rude to throw it away. But it might be best to keep it out of my sight. I would like you to do the same with the gloves.” Jenny immediately did as Rose asked.
Rose was quiet on the carriage ride. It was strange, really.
Everything had gone back to the way it was before Edmund had unexpectedly entered her life, yet nothing would be the same after him.
While there was no pressure on her to get married, she did not feel relieved by this.
Her mind lingered in the maze, stuck in that moment when she and Edmund kissed.
She kept wondering if, had she said something different, there would have been another outcome.
It was tormenting to live that moment over and over again, to think she would never see him again.
When all this began, five promenades seemed far too many, but now that it was over, she realized they were all too few.
“We can leave as soon as you like,” Thomas reassured her, placing a gentle hand on her arm.
Rose smiled sweetly. Her parents had been so kind and understanding over the past week.
It felt as though they were finally accepting her for who she wanted to be rather than the daughter they wanted, and she hoped that eventually this despair would fade and she would be able to be happy again.
Rose’s heart beat with frantic nerves as she entered the large house.
It was filled with people. There was a cacophony bubbling in the air, and the music was loud.
Rose smiled politely at people she recognized, many of whom had been present at Edmund’s party.
She did not see Lydia, however. She missed her friend, but was not entirely sure what to say to her.
Lydia had called for her, but Rose had avoided any visitors, saying that she was ill.
The room swirled around her, and Rose felt separate from it. It was as though they were all living lives she could not touch. Then, suddenly, the crowd parted, and she saw Edmund’s profile. He was swallowed by the undulating crowd almost immediately afterward.
A shudder passed through her. Rose’s knees went weak.
She had not been prepared to see him again, not this soon, not when the wounds were still so raw.
She was utterly bereft and knew that if they were presented to one another, then she would crumble.
She turned, trying to find her parents, but they were in conversation with another group.
Rose felt as though she was lost in another maze.
“May I have this dance?” a low, deep voice came rumbling beneath the music. In a split second, Rose agreed, thinking that if Edmund saw her dancing with another man, he at least would not think her hopeless and wretched. The last thing she wanted was his pity.
Rose looked up to see an older, distinguished gentleman. He had gray whiskers and piercing eyes. His shoulders were broad.
“It is a pleasure to finally dance with you, Lady Rose. I have been waiting for some time,” he said with a sly smile.
“Is that so? I am not sure we have met,” Rose said, trying to place his face.
“Indeed, we have not. We might have, had circumstances been different. I was the second-highest bidder at the auction. I am Lord Whitcombe.”
As he spoke his name, there seemed to be a flash in his eyes.
Rose’s breath caught in her throat. She remembered what Edmund had said about Lord Whitcombe, how the man was dangerous, and Edmund had only bid for Rose initially because he wanted to protect her from Whitcombe’s interest, believing that no woman should have to suffer from his presence.
Rose feigned a smile, although it was not quick enough to allow her fear from escaping Lord Whitcombe’s notice.
“There is no need to be afraid, Rose. You are quite safe with me, far safer than you were with that rake Stonewood.” Whitcombe’s face darkened as he mentioned Edmund’s name, while Rose felt tension sweep through her heart as Whitcombe used her name so casually.
She turned her head, trying to find her parents, but Whitcombe had already led her to the dance floor, and she was shielded from their view.
“I dread to think how he treated you. I heard stories about that debauchery he called a party. It is a shame that such a delicate flower like you should be exposed to such a life.”
“It really was not all that bad. He is more of a gentleman than—”
Lord Whitcombe scoffed. “You are too polite, my dear. There is no need to speak kindly of him. I know what kind of man he is. I have also heard stories about what kind of woman you are. The kind that turns her nose up at marriage. The kind who shuns society’s norms.”
Rose felt his hand slip around her back, pressing her closer to him. He leaned down to speak low into her ear, as though his words were soldiers seeking to storm the fortress of her mind.
“The kind who is a disappointment to her parents. You are a bad girl, Rose. But that does not worry me. I know exactly what to do with bad girls,” his words turned to a whisper and fear crawled through Rose’s body.
“Lord Whitcombe, I… I must return to my parents. I am not feeling myself. Thank you for the dance, but—”
“You are going nowhere until I finish what I have to say,” he said, his voice becoming sterner.
Rose tried to pull away, but he gripped her hand so tightly it was beginning to hurt, and he kept her pressed against him.
There was a darkness in his eyes, and she realized that in her haste, she had allowed herself to be captured by a serpent.
“There is no need to run. I have you now,” he said.
His words were thick with intent, and Rose quailed.
She arched her neck, searching for a way out, but there was none.
Her only recourse was to stamp his foot and cause him injury.
No doubt she would get the blame for being a hysterical woman, but what did that matter?
She had already sacrificed her heart; was it such a tragedy to sacrifice her reputation as well?
Before she could do anything else, however, a shadow passed over her.
“I have an urgent matter to discuss with Lady Rose,” a familiar voice said. It was Edmund. She could not turn to him. She vowed not to show him the relief in his eyes.
“Wait your turn, boy,” Lord Whitcombe said with utter derision and no respect at all. “You outbid me once, but this time I reached her before you. Know your place and return to wherever you came from.”
“I am afraid I cannot do that. I must insist you release her,” Edmund said in a terse voice.
Rose and Lord Whitcombe stopped moving. People around them began to realize that something was amiss. Rose wilted, hating that so many eyes were on her, hating that she was this close to Edmund again, hating that the powerful feelings erupted within her.
“You can insist all you like, it is not going to make a damn bit of difference. You are like a fly buzzing around me. I will not be irritated by the likes of you,” Lord Whitcombe snarled.
Edmund leaned in closer.
“Then perhaps I shall challenge you to a duel, and while we are standing next to each other, I shall tell everyone here about your little dalliances with… Oh, how many women is it now? I have seen what you do to them, Whitcombe. I would wager that few of them fight back. Well, I will fight back. Let’s see how well you do against someone whom you can’t intimidate. ”
Edmund kept his voice low, but that only made his words all the more terrifying. Rose gulped, fearing that there might indeed be a duel.
Would Edmund kill a man for her?
Would he die for her?
Those questions would not be answered today. Lord Whitcombe pressed his lips together and glared at Edmund, but he did not meet Edmund’s challenge. He released his grip on Rose, and immediately she pushed her way through the crowd and escaped outside, shuddering with relief.
A few moments later, she jumped when Edmund came to her. There were other guests in the gardens, but they were too far away. Once again, as happened every time she spoke with Edmund, it felt as though they were isolated.
“Are you well, Rose? I do not know what you were thinking, dancing with that scoundrel.”
“With whom I dance is none of your concern,” she replied harshly.
Edmund furrowed his brow. “I was only trying to help you. I warned you about him before. Thankfully, like most bullies, he does not like being challenged. He preys on the weak.”
“So you think I am weak. You insult me twice, Edmund. You are very efficient today.”
Edmund’s demeanor shifted. He looked puzzled.
“I do not seek to insult you, Rose. I only wanted to help. I saw the way he looked at you.”
“It is not your place to intervene. You made that clear. I am not even sure what you are doing here. Aren’t you supposed to be away from London by now?”
“There are some obligations even I cannot avoid, although now I am beginning to regret attending. I did not believe you would be in such a disagreeable mood.”
A sharp sound burst out of Rose’s throat. “Disagreeable? Well, if that is what you have made me, then so be it, Edmund. You claim to have saved me twice, as though Lord Whitcombe was the worst of my concerns, but it is you that have turned out to be my enemy.”
“Me?” he asked, placing his hand upon his chest, looking entirely bemused.
“Yes, you,” Rose thundered, not caring about who could see or hear her.
She had her piece to say, and by goodness, she was going to say it.
The words came thick and fast. “I was perfectly happy with my life, and then you had to come and upend everything I believed in. I never asked for these feelings, and I do not want them now. I wish that we had never met Edmund. Goodbye, and let this time be truly forever.”
She was already moving before she started speaking.
She marched through the house without looking back and told her mother and father that she needed to leave.
Rose had not truly meant what she said to Edmund, but she needed to say something that would make him stay away so nothing like this would happen again.
The cheek of the man! To think it is his duty to defend me when he has already shrugged aside that duty.
Except it had been gallant, and if things had been different… Oh… What was the use of thinking such a thing?
Things were not different, and they never would be. She and Edmund were too alike for anything to work, and she would simply have to harbor this turmoil in her heart for the rest of her life.