Chapter Eighteen #2
“This very day?” Rose asked, her heart sinking. Sebastian was gone. He hadn’t even said goodbye.
“Mr. Hale said they would return by evening—they’re taking the fastest horses and pushing hard to make the journey in one day. Mr. Hale asked if he might call on you tonight to convey the nature of those conversations.”
“They’ll be back tonight?” Rose tried to keep the hope from her voice but it proved impossible.
“That’s right, my lady.”
Would Sebastian be with Mr. Hale? Or would he remain in London to pursue his restored future, leaving her and this painful chapter behind?
Rose’s stomach fluttered with nerves as the grim reality of her situation settled over her.
So much depended on what instructions her father had left regarding the estate.
Most likely, some distant male relation would inherit everything she had ever known and loved, while she would be cast out with nothing.
A hollow ache settled in her chest. If she truly had no claim, no inheritance—where would she go?
Perhaps her new friends would help her find a way forward. She could stay with Arabella, maybe attempt another Season in London. Though the very thought of giving her heart to anyone but Sebastian made her sick to her stomach.
For now, she must resign herself to the inevitable truth that her life was about to change drastically.
Whether Sebastian would be part of that new life remained to be seen.
He had achieved what he came for—justice for his family.
Did he still want her, or had learning the full extent of her father’s crimes made him reconsider?
After all, she was the daughter of the man who had destroyed his family. That was a burden that might prove too heavy for any love to bear.
“One last thing, my lady. Mrs. Blackwell is in her room, making preparations to leave. If you want to speak to her before she leaves, now would be the time.”
Rose thrust back her shoulders. “Yes, I should speak to her. I’ll do that before I have breakfast.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Sorting through the next steps felt like swimming through mud. But as she’d done for weeks, she drew in a deep breath and prepared to face whatever came next.
*
Rose found Honoria in the blue guest chamber, hastily stuffing gowns into a traveling case with none of her usual grace.
Gone was the perfectly coiffed woman who had glided through the ballroom the night before.
Her hair hung in disheveled waves, her face was pale and pinched, and her hands shook as she worked.
“Lady Rose.” Honoria straightened, attempting to summon her old hauteur, but it rang hollow. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I thought we should speak before you left.”
Honoria’s laugh was bitter. “Come to gloat, have you?”
“No.” Rose stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “There is nothing of this situation that would give me cause to gloat.”
For a moment, Honoria’s mask slipped entirely. Rose saw exhaustion there, desperation, and something that might have been pain. “Yes, I suppose not.”
Rose moved closer, studying the woman who had tormented her for weeks. “I have to wonder, why? Why were you so cruel to me? You could have simply pursued my father without trying to destroy me.”
“Could I?” Honoria whirled around, her composure finally cracking. “Your father made it clear. He wanted you gone. Those were his terms. He would not marry me until you were married.”
“I wonder why?” Rose asked. “Do you know?”
For a moment, she thought Honoria wouldn’t answer. But after a second, her shoulders sagged and she sat on the edge of the bed, clearly exhausted. “He knew how clever you are. And honorable. Like your mother. He knew it was only a matter of time before you discovered the truth of his operations.”
It was as she’d suspected. Father had wanted her out of the way, but it had to be with White. To ensure silence from his only child.
“What about you?” Rose asked. “Did you really want to be married to a criminal? And a murderer?”
“I have to survive.” Honoria’s voice turned harsh.
“You have no idea what it’s like to depend entirely on a man’s whims for your very existence.
To know that one wrong word, one moment of displeasure, could leave you destitute.
To smile and charm and debase yourself for the mere hope of security. I did what I had to do.”
Rose felt something unexpected—a flicker of sympathy. “Actually, I do know. I was about to be handed to Baron White. It that’s not powerless, then I’m not sure what is.”
Honoria studied her face. “Your father has left us both with little hope. He’s not the first selfish man to leave me with nothing.” She turned back to her packing, her movements now mechanical. “I’m sure he won’t be the last.”
“Where will you go?” Rose asked softly.
“I have a distant relation in Yorkshire. I’ll go there and beg her to let me stay until I can find another man who wishes to marry a woman like me.” The words came out stilted, clearly painful.
“And Violet?”
“She’ll return to her father.”
Honoria’s hands stilled again. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. “Think what you want of me, I truly hoped to help her get out of her father’s house.”
“If I can help her, I will.”
“Yes, but as we’ve agreed, neither of us can,” Honoria said. “We’re deluding ourselves if we think otherwise.”
“I cannot give up. I’ll keep trying to do what’s right, even though it seems hopeless.”
“You’re a fighter. Like me.”
Rose met her eyes steadily. “I cannot forget what you tried to do—how you wanted me out of the way—helping my father trap me into marrying Baron White. But I can understand why you did it. And I can wish you well despite it all.”
Honoria nodded slowly. “That is kind of you.”
For a moment, they stood in silence.
Then Honoria returned to her packing with renewed efficiency. “For whatever it’s worth, I do hope you find security in the years to come. And that no one can ever take it from you.”
“Thank you.” Rose moved toward the door, then paused. “Good luck, Mrs. Blackwell. And safe travels.”
Rose left without waiting for a response, but as she closed the door, she heard something that might have been a sob.
Walking down the corridor, Rose felt a deep sorrow for the woman who had tormented her.
She had looked her in the eye and had seen not a monster, but a woman trying to survive in a world made for rich men.
It didn’t excuse what Honoria had done. She had acted out of selfishness and cruelty.
Regardless, the human instinct to survive perhaps outweighed all else.
Compassion and generosity were luxuries for those who had secure futures.
Was Rose about to succumb to the same fate?
Would her next chapter be one of manipulation and desperation, clinging to whatever or whomever would offer her a warm place to sleep?
*
Later, her friends gathered around her in the drawing room—Arabella, Daphne, Lydia, and Violet were all there. Rose had decided to tell them the whole truth about her feelings for Sebastian. There was nothing to lose now and she found herself longing for female advice.
“I’m in love with Sebastian.” Rose stared down at her hands, fingers twisting in her lap. “And I haven’t the faintest idea what’s to become of me.”
“We figured as much,” Arabella said.
“It all feels rather hopeless,” Rose said.
Daphne hesitated, then asked quietly, “But what if Sebastian’s title is restored? His fortune? Is there a chance you might marry?”
“Dare I even think of such an outcome or is it foolish?” Rose asked. “There is so much uncertainty about both our situations.”
“You deserve so much better than what your father left you with,” Lydia added, her voice fierce with protectiveness.
“We must never give up hope,” Daphne said. “Look at all that’s transpired over the last few weeks. Surely there’s evidence that somehow things work out as they should.”
Arabella reached over and squeezed her hand. “And remember, you can always come to live with me. Write to us the moment you know what your father’s left you and we’ll plan accordingly.”
Rose nodded, her throat tight. “You are a dear friend. I cannot thank you enough. You all are.”
“Even though men betray us, we have one another,” Daphne said with a rueful smile.
Rose’s eyes misted. “You’re all far too good to me.”
“And what of you, Violet?” She turned to the quietest of their group. “Are you going home to your father?”
Violet’s shoulders sagged. “I have nowhere else to go. I shall return and wait for next Season.”
“You’re not going home to him,” Arabella said sharply. “You’re coming with me.”
Violet’s eyes went wide. “Truly?”
“I’ve already instructed the footmen to put your things in my carriage. I’ll look after you from now on.” Arabella’s tone softened. “And soon, we’ll all be together again and all of this will be a distant nightmare. We will all get through this, do you understand?”
“Together,” Daphne said.
The others murmured eager agreement just as one of the footmen appeared. “Your carriages are ready, my ladies.”
They embraced, and promised letters to keep one another informed. Rose watched from the front steps as her friends departed, their voices calling back to her until the carriages disappeared down the drive.
The house felt impossibly quiet afterward.
Rose wandered to the library and settled into her usual chair, but the book in her lap remained unopened.
Instead, she gazed out at the bright summer afternoon and thought of her mother—how disappointed she would be to see what had become of everything her father had left her.
A soft knock interrupted her reverie. “Lady Rose?” Mrs. Blythe appeared in the doorway. “Constable Stephens is here to see you.”
Rose set aside her book, her stomach clenching. “The drawing room, please.”