Chapter Eight
The next morning, Rose managed to sneak yet another book from the library and take it out to Sebastian before she had to prepare for the arrival of the houseguests.
She’d chosen a popular romantic novel called The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe.
She thought, however, as she crossed the lawn toward the rose garden, that perhaps it was too bold of a choice.
After all, it was about a young man falling desperately in love with a woman he could never have.
No, she told herself. It was fine. They were not falling in love.
She was simply being kind to the unusual gardener who desperately longed for reading material.
It was nothing important. Nor was it strange that she’d kept his handkerchiefs and hidden them in her bedside table, pulling them out to put under her pillow before she fell asleep at night.
No, nothing untoward about that whatsoever.
He was currently watering the roses when she arrived. He straightened, giving her his usual greeting. “Lady Rose.”
“Good morning. I’ve brought you something. I shan’t be able to bring you anything else for the next few days. All the houseguests arrive today, and I’ll be busy.” She sighed, wishing it were not so.
“Will Baron White be one of them?”
“Yes. He will.”
“I’ve been asked to keep a watch over you,” Sebastian said.
Her breath caught, and she took a small step back. “What? By whom?”
“Mr. Hale. He’s concerned for your safety. Given Baron White’s reputation.”
Stunned, she clutched the book to her chest as if to shield herself. “Oh. I didn’t know Mr. Hale understood the danger.” How had he known that White had nearly assaulted her?
“He doesn’t want you compromised.”
“It won’t matter. I’ll be forced to marry him regardless.”
“Never give up hope, Lady Rose.”
“We would need a miracle,” Rose said.
“They’ve been known to happen.”
She searched his face, tracing the contours of his cheeks and jawline with her eyes. “Do you have a dream? Something you wish for with all your heart? One that would require a miracle? Other than your fixation on revenge, that is.”
He blinked. “I cannot think past that point to make room for any other dream.”
“Then I shall pray for you to have one. And now I must go.” She held out the book for him to take. “I hope you’ll enjoy this one. You might find it overwrought.”
“I shall report back. Thank you, Lady Rose.” He glanced down at his feet. “No one has looked at me for a long time. Thank you for that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m an invisible man to most. You’ve made me feel otherwise.”
“Your station in life should not be all that anyone sees,” Rose said.
“You know as well as I that it is and will always be so.”
She bowed her head, her throat tightening. How she wished she could stay with him instead of going to greet Baron White and the rest of the guests. Worst of all, there was something else she dreaded even more.
“What is it, my lady?” Sebastian stepped closer.
She looked up and into his beautiful dark eyes, struggling to find the words. “My father’s…” She stopped, swallowing hard. “My father’s mistress will be coming today. He plans to marry her once he’s rid of me.”
“Is this why he’s so anxious to marry you off?”
“Yes. She told him she would not marry him unless I was no longer here. She’s had a series of misfortunes, leaving her without the funds to sustain the life she enjoys.
Thus, she will marry my father.” Rose shivered, despite the warmth of the morning.
“She’s horrid. She despises me, and the feeling is entirely mutual. ”
“I’m sorry to hear this, Lady Rose. If I could offer some comfort, I would.”
“As I would for you.” She smiled at him, then took a shaky breath. “I must go now.”
She turned away quickly, walking with measured steps across the lawn, not trusting herself to look back lest he see the tears that had already begun to fall.
*
The first guests to arrive were Viscount Gresham, Sir Philip Easton, and Lord Ellsworth. Rose stood beside her father on the front steps of the manor, greeting each in turn.
Lord Gresham was as Rose remembered. Polite and distinct, with an air of sadness in his striking blue eyes that made Rose curious about his past. What tragedies had befallen him?
Regardless, Rose could almost feel the reluctance he felt at being there.
Like her, he was expected to marry soon and produce an heir.
“Lady Rose, how well you look.” Gresham took her gloved hand to brush his lips softly against her knuckles.
“Thank you, Lord Gresham, as do you. Welcome to Wentworth Manor.”
Next, bowing politely, she welcomed Sir Philip Easton. He grinned before kissing her hand. “Lady Rose, you’re more ravishing with every day that passes.”
“Thank you, Sir Philip. You’re too kind.
” She smiled back at him, charmed by his obvious zest for life.
His thick blond hair fell attractively over his forehead, framing light blue eyes that seemed to perpetually twinkle.
If only it were someone like him that her father would consider.
Although he had a rakish reputation, he was fun to be around, full of good humor and teasing.
But with his precarious financial situation, her father would never consider him an appropriate match.
The last of the trio, Lord Jonathan Ellsworth, trailed behind the others, clearly distracted by the beauty of the estate.
He lingered over a pot of flowers, leaning close to smell a foxglove.
She noticed his cufflinks were slightly tarnished, and he fidgeted with them nervously—small signs of financial strain that tugged at her heart.
He was of an artistic nature, an accomplished pianist who could be relied upon for entertainment, though his lack of ambition was well-known.
Rose’s dear friend Lady Daphne Merriweather had become besotted with Lord Ellsworth during the Season. This worried Rose a great deal, but if her own fate was sealed, perhaps she could at least help her friends find happiness.
Hargrave showed the men inside, where there were drinks and refreshments waiting in the drawing room. Viscount Gresham and Lord Ellsworth had travelled with their valets, but Sir Philip Easton had none—not surprising, given his circumstances.
Her thoughts drifted briefly to Sebastian. How capable and strong he was. Thoughtful and protective too. Could these qualities only come to those forced into hardship? She certainly hoped not.
She was forced back to reality when another carriage arrived, this time carrying her three friends.
Miss Lydia Norbury was the first one out of the carriage.
Although old enough at eight and twenty to be considered a spinster, Lydia’s beauty had not dimmed.
She was slight and poised, and carried a maturity that came from years of caring for her ailing parents.
“Dearest, it’s delightful to see you again.” Rose took both her friends’ hands. “You’re looking very well.”
“I’m not sure anyone could be after that carriage ride. I’m feeling rather queasy.”
Lydia did look a little pale but still stunning in a muted lavender traveling dress. She’d never had a Season, which explained why Viscount Gresham’s serious gaze lingered on her with curiosity.
“I’ll have someone bring you something soothing for your stomach,” Rose said.
“That would be much appreciated.” Lydia lowered her voice. “How are you? Is all well?”
“I’m afraid not,” Rose whispered back. “Baron White’s on his way. I’ll be engaged to him before the summer’s end.”
“Please, allow me to think of a way out,” Lydia said. “I have money of my own now. Perhaps we can find a solution?”
Her kindness brought tears to Rose’s eyes. “We’ll speak later, yes.”
Lady Arabella Kingsley smiled at the sight of Rose, taking her hands and kissing her cheek. “Darling Rose, how good to see you.” She wore a striking burgundy day dress that made her green eyes pop. The dress was more daring than one might expect for a lady, but a widow had more social freedom.
“You as well. Was the ride terribly bumpy?”
“Not that I noticed. I was too busy looking out the window. I love to be out of London and breathe the fresh country air.”
Rose drew close, speaking into Arabella’s ear. “Father’s arranged for Baron White and me to marry.”
“And you don’t want to?”
“I would rather poke my eyes out with a fork,” Rose said, only half-joking.
“You poor thing. But perhaps you’ll be like me and widowed after only a few years? This is the advantage of an older man, is it not?”
Rose giggled despite herself. “I’ll try to see it that way.”
“I promise I didn’t poison him, if that’s why you’re looking at me that way.”
“Don’t even joke about such things,” Rose said, laughing.
Finally, her friend Daphne Merriweather was beside her, clasping her hands. “Oh, Lady Rose, I’m so very happy to see you and to be invited to such a wonderful party.”
Daphne wore a carriage gown in robin’s egg blue that suited her bright red hair and alabaster skin. A wide-brimmed straw bonnet kept the sun off her delicate complexion.
A maid led all three women into the house, but not before Rose promised to meet them in the afternoon for lemonade.
Rose had just turned back when Honoria Blackwell’s carriage appeared. Rose’s father stepped forward as a footman helped Honoria down, though he restrained himself from showing too much familiarity.
Honoria stepped out as if she herself were the lady of the estate.
Her crimson dress was slightly too tight, and her hat trimmed with rather gaudy feathers.
But beneath her haughty expression, Rose caught a flicker of something else—anxiety, perhaps?
The desperation of a woman who’d clawed her way up from nothing and was terrified of falling again.
Honoria’s young cousin, Lady Violet Stratton, stepped out next. She wore an ivory muslin gown suitable for someone of only seventeen. She was petite and delicate with pale blond hair and large blue-gray eyes.
“Lady Rose, thank you for including me in your party.”
“You’re welcome, Lady Violet. I do hope you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“I imagine I will, although these events can be terribly awkward for those of us who are shy. My cousin’s annoyed with me already, and we’ve only just arrived.”
Rose bit her tongue to keep from making a rude comment. Violet thanked her again before following a footman inside.
Here came Honoria, looking down her long, thin nose at Rose.
“Lady Rose.”
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Blackwell.”
“You’re looking awfully wrung out, dear. Have you been ill?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m quite suddenly feeling distinctly unwell. Something foul seems to have taken hold of me. Has the wind brought it to me, do you think?”
Honoria’s thin mouth pursed, though Rose noticed her hands tremble slightly as she adjusted her gloves. “How dreadful. Sadly for you, whatever it is that’s come for you has no plan on leaving without getting exactly what she wants.”
“As you did with your late husband?” Rose felt reckless and angry. There had been many rumors about Honoria’s late husband having suffered a heart attack in his mistress’s bed.
For just a moment, what appeared to be genuine hurt flashed across Honoria’s face before the mask slipped back into place. “I’ve no idea what you mean.”
“What’s one to do when one’s husband dies and leaves one penniless? I feel nothing but sympathy, I assure you.”
“You’ll be sorry if you cross me. I will get what I want.” But there was something almost pleading beneath the threat.
“People like you always get just what they deserve,” Rose said sweetly.
Honoria scowled but said nothing further, sweeping past Rose into the house.
No sooner had she rid herself of one foe than the next one arrived.
Baron Richard White was soon out of his carriage and standing in front of Rose. Stocky, with a barrel chest and ruddy complexion, he took her hand and pressed his lips to it with what he clearly believed was gallant courtesy.
“Lady Rose, your beauty has not faded since last we met. How fortunate you are that I’m willing to overlook your…
spirited nature. Most men would not be so patient with such willfulness in a wife.
I have not forgotten our last encounter.
Your rudeness is forgiven. However, I’ll expect more respect from you going forward. After all, I have a lot to offer you.”
Rose’s jaw tightened. “Your advances were unwanted. A true gentleman would not have pushed.”
He smiled indulgently, as if she were a child expressing a silly fear.
“My dear girl, I’m offering you security, protection, a respectable position in Society.
In time, you’ll come to appreciate the wisdom of this arrangement.
Your father and I both want what’s best for you, even if you cannot see it yet. ”
His tone was so patronizingly gentle, so convinced of his own benevolence, that it made Rose’s skin crawl more than if he’d simply been crude.
She watched as he lumbered up the steps, feeling tears pricking the backs of her eyes. She would not cry. Not here. It was bad enough that she would be forced to marry this man who thought he was rescuing her. She could not bear anyone’s pity.