Rose nodded. “Mother said as much,” she replied, although the reasoning still made little sense to her.
With a single nod, her aunt walked over to the wardrobe. “Your clothes have already been put away for you. As I said before, feel free to explore the house until dinner, which will be in an hour.”
Rose thanked the woman again, and when she was alone, she went to the bed and sat upon it. The mattress was plump and softer than hers in London. Everything here was much nicer than at home, and she had to push back the feeling of excitement at having such luxury around her. She was never one to equate what she possessed with who she was, and she was not about to do so now—even if the mattress was the most comfortable she ever had.
As she lay on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, a sadness washed over her at the thought of her mother on her way alone to Paris. She understood why her mother chose to have her come to Scarlett Hall rather than spending her coming out season in Paris, but it did not make it any easier that she would not be there during one of the most important moments of Rose’s life.
Pushing aside her mournful thoughts, she brought to mind the reason she was at Scarlett Hall. She would find a worthy gentleman with whom she could fall in love.
The very notion of love excited her, for she had often thought of the man she would marry. He would be handsome, well-educated, and would appreciate the things that she held dear. Although she had never experienced having suitors, nor did she know much about courting, she was not worried. Most men were worthy of marriage, or so she assumed, which meant that her concern was not in finding the right man but rather which one of the many she would select.
***
“Do not doubt my words,” Miss Caroline Thrup said with an air of authority, although she was only a year older than Rose, “I can assure you that all men are beasts, and women must take every precaution when around them.” She punctuated her words with a firm nod. The young woman had arrived an hour after dinner, and they now sat in the drawing room while Aunt Eleanor retired to the study once more. “Sadly, I have had many men who have fought for my hand, but thus far none have been worthy of it.”
“How unfortunate,” Rose said. “Surely you will find a suitable man eventually?”
Caroline heaved a dramatic sigh. “That is what I hope, although my luck does not come close to the ladies of Scarlett Hall. You are most fortunate to be here, and perhaps my luck will improve while I am here with you. Mother said that Lady Lambert asked me to remain for the foreseeable future, and I must admit that I am quite excited to be here.”
“The foreseeable future?” Rose asked in surprise. “You are not staying for just a week?”
Caroline laughed and leaned back into the couch. “Do not be silly,” she replied. “Lady Lambert called upon my wisdom and guidance. The letter I gave her earlier was from Mother informing Lady Lambert that I can remain here as long as I am needed.”
Rose smiled, but she wondered if this was nothing more than an opportunity for the girl’s parents to be rid of her. It was not that Rose did not find Caroline kind, but she talked incessantly, and thus far, few of her stories seemed believable.
“Where are your parents?” Caroline asked.
The question caught Rose off-guard, and she was surprised that Caroline was allowing her a chance to speak. “Mother is on her way to Paris at the moment. My father was in the military but died many years ago during the war.”
Caroline placed a hand to her breast. She was an overly dramatic person to be sure. “How horrible for you. You must miss him, but it must be nice to know he died an honorable death.”
“Thank you,” she said, sorry now for judging the woman as she had. “He died before I was born, so I never knew him.”
“Does your mother often leave you behind when she travels?”
Aunt Eleanor could not have been more correct; Caroline was quite nosy. Rose was unaccustomed to having someone who asked her so many questions about her personal life.
“No, but she is looking into investment properties in Paris,” Rose replied. “She will be quite busy while she is there, and therefore I would be left alone more than she preferred. That is why Mother asked my aunt to allow me to stay here. She thought I would be less bored.”
Caroline gave a derisive sniff. “Paris is not boring,” she said. “I have not been there myself, mind you, but I know many who have.” She nodded as if she had come to a decision. “Yes, your mother wanted an extended holiday without the burden of a child with her.”
It was not often that Rose became angry, but to have this woman who had just made her acquaintance make such outlandish accusations about her mother did just that. “My mother is a kind and beautiful woman,” she snapped. “I would ask that you not say such horrible things about her character again.”
Caroline looked down as she wrung her hands in her lap. “I am sorry. I tend to speak before I think. I did not mean any harm.” When she looked up, her eyes brimmed with tears. “It was my parents who insisted I remain here longer than a week. I believe I am a huge disappointment to them and they would prefer I not be around. I cannot say I blame them; I have had no luck in finding a gentleman, and the last time I thought one was worthy, the man kissed me twice and never called on me again.”
Rose held out her hands. “Give me your hands, please.”
Caroline scrunched her brow and gave her a suspicious look. “Why?”
“Please,” Rose urged.
It took Caroline a moment before she did as Rose requested, although she never dropped her look of mistrust.
“I believe we are two women searching for the same thing—a worthy gentleman. And perhaps love?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes, that is what I want, to be sure.”
“Then we will do so together. Let us not speak of the past, but rather of the gentlemen who will soon be fighting over us.”
This made Caroline laugh, and soon they were embracing.
“Thank you,” Caroline whispered. “And I will never speak ill of your mother again, I promise.”
Rose pulled back and smiled. “I am sure you will not,” she replied. “Now, I am very tired. Do you mind if we retire for the night?”
“Not at all,” Caroline said, her previous happy demeanor returned. “Which room were you given?”
“Aunt Eleanor said the room belonged to Juliet.”
Caroline’s grin widened. “That is wonderful! There are secrets hidden in that room about which Juliet told me. Would you like me to show them to you?”
With a sense of excitement and adventure, Rose nodded and stood. Not for the possibility of gossip concerning this Juliet, for she despised such talk, but rather for the idea of an adventure. She rarely had such an opportunity.
“Yes, that would be wonderful,” she replied.
***
Rose, a candle in hand, stood beside a kneeling Caroline as she pulled at a floorboard in Juliet’s bedroom. Rose had not been at Scarlett Hall a day and she was already getting into mischief. Her mother would be shamed beyond belief! Yet there was an excitement at the prospect of adventure that held her riveted in place rather than putting a stop to the destruction.
“Be careful,” she whispered as she glanced at the door for what had to have been at least the tenth time. “Perhaps we should stop. I do not wish to anger Aunt Eleanor, especially before I have even slept here for one night.”
“Stop worrying,” Caroline admonished, although the fact that she also whispered did not escape Rose’s attention. “Juliet used this secret place for as long as I have known her, and now is the time for us to use what lies beneath.” She grunted again, and the floorboard came loose.
Unable to curb her curiosity, Rose squatted down beside Caroline and brought the candle closer to the hole. What kinds of treasures could this mischievous Juliet have secreted away under the floorboards? She could do nothing to stop the sense of expectation that coursed through her. Oh, yes, her mother would be beside herself if she learned of
Rose’s behavior!
With a wide grin, Caroline reached inside the hole and produced a bottle of some sort of spirits.
“Surely Miss Juliet did not consume alcohol!” Rose said, horrified at the idea.
Caroline sat back on her feet and wiped at her brow. “Juliet did many things, most which would have been considered unladylike by propriety’s standards. However, many of us found her antics admirable. I found her brave and she often spoke her mind. I know I looked up to her as a valiant woman of our time. But I will tell you more of her adventures later.” She once again reached into the hole, this time producing a stack of parchments, and then replaced the floorboard. “Come, let us go sit on the bed together.”
Rose nodded and walked over to place the candle on the side table. She sat beside Caroline on the edge of the bed as the other woman removed the cork.
Caroline raised the bottle in the air. “Brandy,” she said with a wide grin. Then much to Rose’s dismay and horror, she lifted the bottle to her lips and drank like some bandit in a tavern before offering Rose the bottle.
“Oh, no, I cannot,” Rose said, forcing politeness into her voice. “I have consumed wine before but never brandy. I have heard rumors of what it can do to a person.”
Caroline’s grin never wavered. “Do you not fancy an adventure?” she asked. “Just a sip. I promise your lips will not fall off if you just sample it.”
This made Rose giggle despite her reluctance. Perhaps it was time she took a chance. No one could ever consider Miss Rose Skylark daring, no one who knew her, and for the first time she wanted to be just that. Perhaps it was Caroline’s insistence. Maybe it was the residual mischief of the room’s former resident, but she found she could not refuse the temptation to try the brandy.
She took a small drink of the amber liquid, which assaulted her nose long before she could taste it. It burned her throat, and she coughed, but she had to admit, she did enjoy the flavor. Furthermore, she would not have anyone, not even Caroline, say that she did not fancy an adventure.
“This,” she said between coughs, “is actually quite lovely.”
Caroline nodded. “I told you as much.” She took another drink, offered Rose the bottle once more—which Rose waved off—replaced the cork, and set the bottle beside her on the bed.
Rose looked at the door again. “Do you believe we should hide that,” she pointed toward the bottle, “in case my aunt comes to check on us?”
Caroline chuckled. “Lady Lambert works late into the night. Trust me, she will not see it.” She unfolded one of the pieces of parchment and handed the rest to Rose
Again, Rose had that sense of expectation, of excitement, that she knew went against everything she had ever been taught. She was powerless against it, and she, too, opened one of the parchments to reveal a letter.
She scanned the writing and felt her cheeks heat and her eyes widen. “What…what am I looking for?” she asked. Surely they were not looking for love letters!
Caroline ignored her and unfolded another paper. She rose and went to the candle, bringing the page close to the flame.
Rose used this opportunity to slide the remaining pages beneath one of the pillows. They had no business rifling through another woman’s private correspondences!
“She did not lie,” Caroline said with an excited murmur. “The rules are here just as she said they would be.”
“Rules?” Rose asked in confusion. “Rules for what?”
“The Seven Rules for Attracting a Man,” Caroline said without looking up. “Juliet is very beautiful, you see, and she had many men fighting over her. Some offered her jewelry for a simple kiss while others promised her lands and stakes in their businesses for her hand. Two even went so far as to duel for her hand only to kill one another in the process, or so Juliet said.”
“And you believed her?” Rose said, unable to hide her skepticism.
“I had no reason not to,” Caroline replied with a shrug. “As I said before, Juliet is a woman above all others. She might exaggerate but she never outright lied.”
Rose had not meant to call a woman she had never even met a liar and she felt a sense of guilt wash over her. Who was she to say that what Juliet said was not the truth?
“What do the rules say?” she asked in an attempt to move the conversation forward and away from the discomfort she had brought upon herself.
Caroline squinted. “It says there are seven ways a lady may attract a man she deems worthy. The first is that she should bat her eyelashes at him. ‘Simply blink numerous times in a row and a man will be overcome with confusion’ it says. ‘It is at this point that the lady may ask for jewelry or anything else she desires, and the man will grant her request without argument.’”
Rose had to hold back a snort. “Surely such an action would not be considered appropriate,” she said. She paused to consider all she had been taught. “No, I am certain of it.”
Caroline paid her no mind. “Listen to this one. ‘The fifth rule is simple but always effective. Drop an item, for example a handkerchief or glove, in front of the man, bring your hand to your breast, and gasp. Men will fight one another for the honor of retrieving said item, and the lady may choose the victor if she so wishes.’”
Rose had spoken to many friends about the best ways to attract a gentleman. Most of the rules of which she was aware pertained to etiquette and did not include dropping of handkerchiefs or fluttering one’s eyelashes.
As a matter of fact, the man she eventually married would not fall victim to any of these so-called rules. Instead, he would be a man with a kind heart, one who was attracted to civil conversation and unaffected by such schemes. What he looked like was of less importance, but he would be a handsome and well-kept man, one who showed a sense of pride in his appearance without the haughtiness that so many men possessed.
One thing was certain, however. She could not wait to meet him.
Chapter Three
“Dear God, my life is defunct. I have gone blind.” Holden Bradshaw, son and heir of the Baron of Blightsworth, groaned as he grasped his head in his hands to ease the pounding. Perhaps the rumors were true; the Almighty had finally seen fit to take away his sight as penance for his many years of carousing and debauchery.
Pushing back the heavy mop of dark hair from his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he groaned against the brightness of the light that streamed through the window, causing the pounding in his head to intensify tenfold.
He clamped his eyes shut once again as his mind went back to the night before. He had attended a gathering at the home of Mr. David Banner, his closest friend and confidante, which quickly turned into a night of gambling and heavy drinking. It appeared, if his empty pockets could be any indication, that Holden had done poorly in the former, but the pain in his head said he had done well in the latter. He gripped his head once more. Perhaps too well at that.
From what Holden could remember, David had invited a woman of questionable morals and reputation, and Holden, not wishing to be left out, spent a goodly amount of time speaking to her. Luckily, she had her eyes set on David and not on Holden, which may have saved him from waking with the woman sharing his bed this morning.
At least he had made it to his bed.
A rap on the door sent a jolt of pain through his temples. “Enter!”
The door opened, and the family butler, Carson, entered. A large man for a butler, he possessed a stomach that tested the limits of the fabric and buttons on his livery. “Your father has sent me to remind you of the meeting you were to attend today in his study.”
Holden moaned as he sat up in bed. “Meeting?” he mumbled. Then he recalled his father requesting to speak with him today. “That is not to start until noon.”
“Begging your pardon, but noon was an hour ago,” Carson intoned. “What shall I tell your father?”
“I will be there momentarily,” Holden replied, annoyed at the man’s clear contempt for him. How dare he act as if he could be contemp
tuous of the future Baron of Blightsworth!
The butler bowed and left the room, closing the door with a loud bang behind him. Of course he would do that, the despicable oaf!
Upon standing, Holden wobbled on weak legs. His throat was parched and his stomach rumbled—at least it was from hunger and not the urge to sick up—but he would wait to eat after speaking to his father. He could not afford to anger the man more than he likely was already.
As he dressed, Holden thought of the many meetings his father held with him. Most were to chastise Holden for the decisions he made in life, ending with Holden promising to mend his ways and walk on the straight and narrow.
He splashed cold water on his face from the wash basin, which help to wake him but did nothing to ease the battering inside his skull.
Once he had stomped into his second boot, he left his room and walked down the hallway of Ramada Estate, the home over which he would one day reign. Although it was not as large as many homes of the ton, the decor reflected that its occupants spared no expense. Oriental rugs lay on the floors of various rooms, paintings his father collected during his military days adorned the walls, and the finest porcelain graced the mahogany tables, even in the corridor down which he currently walked.
Once at the wide staircase that led to the main floor, Holden paused to close his eyes. Each step caused the pain in his head to worsen, and by the time he reached the bottom step, he had to grip the banister to keep from falling from dizziness. His father’s office was not ten paces from where he stood, but even thought of taking those steps felt like an eternity of agony. Yet he had little choice but to make the journey, as short as it was, and he pressed forward.
The door to the study was open and his father looked up from his chair behind a massive oak desk that took up a good portion of the room. The man was fifty years of age with a head full of silver hair and a stern frown that never seemed to leave his face. His military background made him far stricter than anyone Holden had ever known. David certainly had not been forced to endure the stringent upbringing Holden had.
Songs of Yesterday Page 3
