Page 28 of When He Was a Duke
“I am glad you approve.” Her voice came out flat. The tone of someone who had given up. What else could she do?
“The work you’ve done to prepare for the ball has pleased me. I hope you will continue to do so. Please me, that is. By doing as I ask. You may not see it now, Rose, but I know what is best for you. I always have. You will have a good life with Baron White. Children. A home of your own.”
She shuddered at the thought of Baron White’s touch.
“You mustn’t succumb to unhealthy thoughts,” he said. “Your mother was not successful in doing so and it caused us both much unhappiness.”
“What do you mean?” Rose held her breath, knowing her father’s temper and his lack of patience when it came to her questions.
“I mean that your mother was prone to hysteria and melancholy. Most husbands would have had her committed to a place that could help her. Perhaps had I done so, she would still be here.”
“How would that have kept her from being murdered?” The words were out before she could stop them.
He took hold of her upper right arm, crushing it in his strong grip. “You will not ask any further questions. You will do as I ask. Or there will be consequences. Perhaps the one I should have given your mother. Do you understand?” His grip tightened.
She nodded, tears blurring her vision so that her father’s face distorted, making him even more menacing.
“Say the words,” he said.
“I understand.”
“That’s my good girl.” He let her go and charged from the room.
After he left, Rose stood frozen. He had threatened her. There was no mistaking what he’d meant. Marry Baron White or he would have her committed. She thought she might be sick.
But she gathered herself enough to escape to her room. Once there, she took out Sebastian’s handkerchief and breathed in his scent. It had a strangely calming effect.
She slid it beneath her pillow. She had no idea why, other than it provided comfort.
*
The next morning,after breakfast and a meeting with Mrs. Blythe, Rose tuckedA Midsummer Night’s Dreaminto a basket and headed for the rose garden. Earlier, she’d spotted Sebastian with his leather satchel of tools headed in that direction.
She thought about bringing his handkerchief to him but decided against it. She wanted a little piece of him with her, nestled under the place where she rested her cheek during the night.
When she reached the garden, Sebastian was on his knees, his tool belt around his waist, peering closely at the leaves of one of the rose bushes. A spade and hoe were propped against one of the maple trees, and a basket with plant clippings beside them. His linen shirt clung to the muscles of his back, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands along the curves and planes of his shoulders. This, unfortunately, must be left to her imagination.
She called out to Sebastian, not wanting to startle him as she had the day before.
Upon hearing his name, he straightened, taking his cap off to wipe his brow. “Lady Rose.”
“Good afternoon. I’m sorry to disturb your work, but I’ve brought a book.”
“You have?” He grinned, transforming his serious visage into one of boyish glee. Was it the first time she’d seen him smile in such a way? She believed it must be, for it had a devastating effect, rendering her warm and floaty, as if she could dance without touching the ground.
“It’sA Midsummer Night’s Dream, and I shall tell you why I chose it, if it interests you.”
“Yes, it interests me indeed.”
She dug it out of her basket and looked around to see if they were being observed. Seeing no one, she reached her hand out to give it to him.
But he did not take it at first. Instead, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the dirt away from his hard-working hands. It was only when they were free of dirt that he took the book from her. “This is one of my favorites.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Tuck it into your belt, so that no one sees,” Rose said.
He did as she asked. “I enjoy the comedies. More so than the tragedies, I’m ashamed to say. The tragedies are so…”
“Tragic?”
