Page 77 of When He Was a Duke
“There have been rumors, Lady Rose. About you and the gardener developing a friendship. Others have seen you bring him books and linger to speak with him.”
“Yes, it is true. What are they saying about it?”
“Nothing unkind, my lady. But some noticed. That’s all.”
“I see.”
“This morning Mrs. Blythe said Sebastian will have to make an appeal to the Crown if he is to regain his title. She said perhaps his family’s fortune will be restored by the monarchy in compensation for what happened to him and his siblings.”
A dart of optimism pierced through Rose’s gloom. Could he finally get back everything he’d lost? If so, what would it mean for them?
“Lady Kingsley, Lady Merriweather and Miss Norbury have asked if they might have a word with you before they leave. May I show them into the drawing room after you’ve had breakfast?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Also, Mr. Hale asked for your forgiveness. He cannot meet thismorning, as he and Sebastian departed very early for London. Mr. Hale left a note explaining that time was of the essence. They need to reach the estate’s solicitors and begin Sebastian’s appeal to the Crown while the events of last night are still fresh in officials’ minds.”
“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 Honoriain 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.”
