Page 6 of Legacy of Roses

Chapter 3

Rosalie

Rosalie dragged Daphne inside and shut the door behind them. She looked warily around, but apparently her brothers weren’t home. If they were, they would already have converged on her friend. Ever since Rosalie’s family had been forced to move from the center of town into the tiny cottage, it had been impossible to conceal Daphne’s presence on any of her visits.

“I think we’re safe,” Rosalie said warily, afraid that speaking too loudly might summon them from the forest that crept close to the rear of the cottage.

Daphne gave a sigh of relief and sank into the threadbare sofa. Rosalie still had too much pent-up energy to sit, however. She paced instead, a difficult feat given the size of the room.

“I didn’t see any sign of the Beast,” she muttered as she strode up and down. “But then I managed to stop Dimitri from plucking a rose, so it makes sense he didn’t appear.” She paused for a moment to shake her head. “Can you believe Dimitri was lured in so easily? He had no wariness of roses at all! Who travels between kingdoms without learning the details of all the Legacies before setting out? Didn’t he attend school as a child?He didn’t even seem to know what the Sovaran Legacy does to glass!”

“He seemed remarkably ignorant,” Daphne agreed in an indifferent voice. But her eyes sharpened as she looked up at Rosalie. “But his looks were interesting. Very interesting.”

Rosalie abruptly swung around to pace in the other direction, obscuring her face from her friend.

“What do his looks have to do with anything?”

She bit her lip, aware she hadn’t managed the carefree tone she had been aiming for. But she pushed on regardless. “Are you interested in him or something? I’ll admit he was attractive, but considering he’s only traveling through, we’ll probably never see him again.”

“Attractive? I suppose he was,” Daphne said as if considering the matter for the first time. “Of course you would have found him so.” She said the words without judgment. “He looks remarkably like Jace.”

“Like Jace?” Rosalie attempted unaffected surprise, but again failed. “I suppose they are both fair.”

“It was more than just that.” Daphne pursed her lips consideringly. “Although he was…more than Jace. Definitely more.”

Rosalie didn’t have to ask what Daphne meant by that. She had noticed it too.

Although she didn’t want to admit it to her friend, she had been shocked by Dimitri’s appearance—nearly shocked enough to forget her urgent mission of separating him from the rose. He did look remarkably like Jace. But the longer she had looked at him, the less she had seen it. With his golden hair, dark brows, and strong, sculpted features, Dimitri had made Jace seem like a weak echo—an inexpert attempt to copy a master’s work. But that thought only made her more ashamed, so she pushed it aside.

“More or less, what does it matter?” she said firmly. “As I said, we’re never seeing him again.”

Silence fell briefly before Daphne spoke in a hesitant voice. “Did you want to talk about him?”

Rosalie turned to face her, her brow creasing. “Talk about Dimitri? Whatever for?”

Daphne shook her head. “I mean Jace. You never mention him, but you’ve been different ever since…” She trailed off.

Rosalie glanced at the small house around them. It wasn’t her that was different since Jace, it was everything else. But there was no point trying to explain that to Daphne, who persisted in believing Rosalie must be hiding a broken heart.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” she said with finality. “I want—” But as usual whatever she wanted was drowned out by the boisterous arrival of three long-limbed and raucous boys.

“We didn’t know you were here, Rosalie,” Vernon said, but his eyes were on Daphne. All of theirs were.

“Daphne’s staying the night,” Rosalie announced to universal male cries of delight.

Daphne, on the other hand, directed a wounded look at Rosalie. Rosalie just grinned back at her. Now that the boys were present, there would be no opportunity for Daphne to bring up Jace again. Besides, Daphne had promised only a week ago that she would come for a longer visit soon.

After Daphne’s arrival in Thebarton at the age of seven, the two girls had been almost inseparable, flowing freely between Daphne’s house and Rosalie’s. But it wasn’t the same now that they no longer lived only a few doors apart. Rosalie’s whole family missed Daphne, and with Daphne’s parents traveling, it was the perfect time for her to stay over.

“Don’t worry,” Rosalie murmured, dropping onto the sofa beside her friend. “We can escape to bed as soon as we’ve eaten. And you know Mother will be pleased. With you here, all three ofthem will volunteer to help prepare the meal. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

Sighing, Daphne capitulated at this final inducement.

“In that case,” she said, shoving Rosalie off the seat and stretching out, “wake me when the food’s ready.”

As predicted, Rosalie had enthusiastic if unskilled assistance from Ralph, Vernon, and Oscar, who were all hoping Daphne would wake up and notice their contribution.

“How she can sleep through these three, I have no idea,” Rosalie’s mother said when she arrived from tending the cottage’s garden. She surveyed her sons with an indulgent eye before embracing her youngest daughter.

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