Page 54 of When He Was a Duke
“Like someone had told her to say it.”
“Exactly.” Prudence’s voice was grim. “I’ve always wondered what she might have witnessed. But she’s never breathed a word, not in all these years.”
Rose felt something cold and hard settle in her chest. Fear, yes, but also anger. How many people had suffered for her father’s secrets? How many had been silenced or killed to protect his crimes?
“Lady Rose,” Prudence said urgently, “you must promise me you won’t do anything rash. If what we suspect is true, then you’re in terrible danger. Especially now, asking questions. You’re bound to anger him.”
“I have to know the truth. I can’t live like this anymore, hearingfragments, seeing pieces. I feel like I’m drowning in lies.”
“Then we must be very, very careful about how we proceed.” Prudence stood, smoothing her skirts with shaking hands. “Perhaps we could speak to Mary together, when his lordship is away from the house. And we must tell no one else of our suspicions.”
Rose nodded, though her mind was already racing ahead. Tonight at dinner, she would have to sit across from her father and smile. She would have to pretend she didn’t suspect him of murdering her mother and an innocent young woman. She would have to act as if her world hadn’t just crumbled to pieces.
“How do I face him?” she asked, her voice breaking. “How do I sit at that table and pretend everything is normal?”
“I don’t know,” Prudence said. “But I do know that you’re strong and smart. Somehow, you will triumph. I just know you will.”
Rose looked at herself in the mirror again. The frightened girl was still there, but something else was emerging too. Something harder, more determined. Her mother had tried to leave a trail, tried to ensure the truth would come out.
Rose would honor that. Whatever the cost.
“Please help me with my jewelry,” she said, her voice steadier now. “If I’m going to perform tonight, I might as well look the part.”
But as Prudence fastened her necklace, Rose caught sight of her own eyes in the mirror. They looked different now—older, sadder, but also resolute.
Tonight, she would begin asking the right questions. And this time, she wouldn’t stop until she had answers.
Chapter Thirteen
Sebastian spent theevening in his own private hell, unable to shake the image of Rose’s face when she’d seen his scars. The shock in her eyes, the way her hand had flown to her mouth, played over and over in his mind like a cruel refrain.
He’d eaten supper with the others but barely tasted the food. While the rest of the men had moved on to joking about their unexpected encounter with the ladies, Sebastian felt as though his skin had been stripped away, leaving every nerve exposed.
“Reckon Lady Rose got quite an eyeful,” one of the younger gardeners was saying with a nervous laugh. “Think she’ll tell his lordship?”
“Nah,” Thorncroft replied. “Mrs. Blythe says the ladies won’t make trouble for us. We weren’t doing nothing wrong, just cooling off after a hot day’s work.”
Sebastian pushed back from the table. He couldn’t bear to listen to them discuss Rose, couldn’t stand the thought that she might be upstairs right now, disgusted by what she’d seen. The scars told a story he’d never wanted to share—of helplessness, of being at another man’s mercy, of pain that had marked him inside and out.
“Where you off to, Sebastian?” Thorncroft called.
“Getting some air,” Sebastian muttered, and fled before anyone could follow.
The stables were quiet at this hour, save for the occasional creak ofwood and the soft shifting of hooves against straw. Sebastian made his way to Tempest’s stall, desperate for the comfort of his oldest friend.
The stallion nickered softly in greeting, and Sebastian felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “Hello, old boy.” He spoke softly, running his hand down Tempest’s sleek neck. “I’ve had better days. How about you?”
He pulled a sugar cube from his pocket, offering it on his palm. Tempest’s warm breath tickled his hand as the horse accepted the treat, and for a moment, Sebastian could almost pretend he was back in Brighton with his brother, that none of this nightmare was real.
“She saw them. All of them. Every mark he left on me.” His throat tightened. “You should have seen her face. The horror in her eyes. How can I expect her to look at me the same way now?”
Tempest nudged his shoulder gently, as if sensing his distress.
“I keep forgetting why I came here,” Sebastian continued, the words tumbling out like a confession. He continued to speak, only silently, unsure of who might be about to hear him.When I’m with her, everything else fades away. James and Sophia, justice for Papa—it all becomes secondary to the way she smiles, the sound of her laugh.He pressed his forehead against Tempest’s neck. What kind of man does that make me? What kind of son?
“Sebastian, there you are.”
Sebastian spun around, his heart hammering. Tobias Hale stood in the stable doorway, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
