Chapter Thirteen #2
To his surprise, she was already there, sitting on her swing, so pretty that it took his breath away. She jumped to her feet the moment she saw him. He rushed to her, as if his feet had wills of their own. The leap in his heart scared him more than almost anything had in his life.
Seeing your father hanged. Don’t forget that fright.
He managed to keep himself from touching her, but it took every ounce of will he had. Instead, he scrutinized her face for clues to her emotional state. Who knew what she’d had to endure since last he saw her? Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her fingers worried the fabric of her skirt.
“Who did that to you?” Rose blurted out, without preamble.
His throat tightened. The lie he’d practiced felt like ash in his mouth. “The family I lived with after my mother’s death was cruel. Any small infraction was punished.” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “With glee.”
“How could anyone hurt a child like that?” Her voice broke, and she reached toward him before catching herself, her hand hovering in the space between them.
The almost-touch sent heat racing through him. He clenched his fists to keep from closing that distance. “May I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Has your father ever laid a hand on you?” The words came out rougher than he intended.
Her eyes widened. “No. His cruelty comes in words only.” She sank onto the swing, her knuckles white as she gripped the ropes. “Though I don’t think—I don’t think it was the same for my mother.”
Sebastian’s pulse quickened. “What do you mean?”
“I heard her voice again last night.” Rose’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “She said, ‘You and your partner could hang for this, and then what happens to Rose’?”
“Do you have any idea what it means?”
She bit her lower lip, a habit he’d noticed when she was thinking hard. “I think… I think it’s from the night she died. As if I heard her and Father arguing.” Her breath came faster. “But it’s like trying to hold water. The memory slips away. Do I sound mad?”
“Not at all.” He wanted to take her hands, to offer comfort, but didn’t dare. “I know someone who witnessed violence as a child of eight. She can’t remember it, though her brother does. Sometimes we bury what’s too painful to bear.”
“I was eight when Mother died.” Rose’s voice grew smaller. “The same age as the girl you speak of.”
“Do you remember anything else from that night?”
She nodded slowly. “My governess let me peek into the ballroom to see Mother in her gown. She looked like a fairy tale princess.” Her shoulders began to shake.
“But after that… nothing. Not when they told me she was gone, not the funeral, not even the weeks after. I loved her so much, Sebastian. I was lost without her. I still am.”
The raw pain in her voice made his chest ache. His hand moved toward her before he could stop it, hovering near her side. “So it’s possible you saw something that night. Something your mind couldn’t handle.”
“That’s what I keep thinking.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “What if I overheard them fighting about his business? What if she found out what he really was and he lost his temper?”
Sebastian’s stomach clenched. He was walking a knife’s edge between truth and deception. “What are you saying?”
Rose lifted her head, tears clinging to her lashes. “A week ago, I would have sworn Father could never do such a thing, but now?” She drew a shuddering breath. “Prudence told me about Mother’s lady’s maid, Lizzie. How she died in that riding accident.”
“Hale’s fiancée. He told me he believes Hargrave spooked the horse. Mrs. Blythe and Mrs. Carter think the same thing.”
“How do you know that?”
“I overheard them talking one afternoon.”
“He had her killed to keep Prudence quiet about what she knew.” Rose’s voice grew stronger, anger threading through the pain. “And Prudence said Mother had told Lizzie that if anything happened to her, to tell the constable to look at her husband.”
“Hale told me the same thing.”
“Father was paying off the constable.” Rose’s eyes flashed.
“He refused to hear anything from the servants about what they knew about my mother’s death.
And then Lizzie died too.” She leaned forward, studying his face intently.
“Prudence told me something else. She thinks Mary knows more than she’s confessing. ”
His heart hammered against his ribs. How much could he reveal without destroying everything?
“Prudence and Finch have mentioned similar things to me.” He told her about their interaction at the pub, when he’d asked for information about Lady Wentworth.
“Mary was definitely not telling us everything she knew. Prudence pressed but she wouldn’t say anything. ”
“Prudence wants me to ask Mary directly.” Rose’s jaw set with determination.
“I see how the servants flinch when Father raises his voice, how they look over their shoulders when Hargrave’s near.
I’ve not been completely blind to the truth.
” She stood abruptly, pacing to the garden’s edge.
“They’re not just servants to me, Sebastian.
They’re the only family I’ve had since Mother died. ”
“I know.” He rose, taking a step toward her.
“No, forgive me.” She whirled back, her hand pressed to her throat and stared at him for a long moment, a raw vulnerability flickering in her eyes. “What should I do, Sebastian? How do I face all of this?”
“Talk to Mary. Today, if you can manage it.”
“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it? Whatever she tells me.”
He nodded, grimacing. “I wish I could spare you this pain.”
Rose stepped closer, close enough that he could see the gold flecks in her green eyes. “There is one thing you could do.”
His breath caught. “What?”
“Tell me who you really are.”
He hung his head, hands trembling with the urge to confess everything—his real name, his quest for justice, how desperately he was falling for her despite every reason he shouldn’t. Instead, he forced out, “I cannot. Not yet.”
Something shuttered in her expression. “Then you wouldn’t really do anything to help me, would you?” Her voice turned cool, distant. “I understand, of course. Your secret must be quite powerful if you can’t trust me with it. Even after everything we’ve shared.”
She moved toward the garden path, her spine straight as a queen’s. Sebastian’s throat worked, the truth clawing at him. Tell her. Tell her now.
But James’s face flashed in his mind, then Sophia’s. The weight of justice for his family pressed down on him.
“Rose—”
She paused without turning. For a heartbeat, he thought she might come back to him. Then she continued walking, disappearing around the corner of the manor house.
Sebastian stood alone among the roses, his hands clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms. He was losing her with every lie, every half-truth. And when she finally learned who he really was—when she discovered he was the son of the man her father had destroyed—he would lose her forever.
But he had to keep going. For James. For Sophia. For justice.
Even if it destroyed the only chance at love he’d ever known.