by Bree Wolf
Never before in her life had Rose felt torn in such a way.
As her mind focused on the rhythm of the music and the steps that carried her around the room, Rose tried to distance herself from the man who caused her heart such turmoil. Nevertheless, whenever the dance would lead them together again and his hand touched hers, a shiver ran from his hand into hers, down her arm and through her whole body, making her quiver. Who was this man? She marvelled. Why did he have such power over her?
“You despise me, do you not?”
Meeting his eyes, Rose swallowed.
Despite the firm set of his jaw and the hardness that rested in his eyes, his voice sounded gentle, not like a challenge or an accusation.
When the dance drew them apart once more, Rose’s eyes followed him, and he returned her gaze with the same frankness that rested in her own. Despite the distance, it was as though a conversation passed between them, a conversation that set the groundwork for all future communications.
Rose nodded in answer. She would be frank as would he. But would he also be honest?
“I do, yes.”
He swallowed, and a hint of sadness came to his eyes. “May I ask why?”
Shaking her head, Rose snorted.
“The other day when we met at the museum,” he began, and her heart softened at the memory he conjured, “your eyes held something else.” Stepping close for but a moment, he whispered in her ear, “I thought you’d recognised me.”
Again, a shiver went down her back as his warm breath tickled her skin. Swallowing, Rose met his eyes as the dance drew them apart once more. Recognised him? In what way? She had thought him to be a kindred soul, someone she could speak to about the things that mattered to her, someone who would answer her honestly and with the same depth that she craved after in her life.
When the music ended and they bowed to each other, Rose felt as confused as she had before. This man before her was an enigma, and she didn’t know what to make of him. Her mind told her to be careful while her heart urged her to throw caution to the wind.
Rose swallowed. At one time, Diana had probably felt the same way about him. Only she had acted upon her heart’s desire…and paid for it dearly.
As her thoughts returned to her cousin’s cruel fate, Rose forced her eyes from the man who stood but an arm’s length before her, thus, breaking the spell that had settled upon her.
Spotting Diana at the back of the room, her face still as pale as a sheet, Rose felt a deep ache come to her heart, and without another word, she turned and hurried toward her.
When their eyes met though, Diana fled the ballroom.
Guilt washed over her, and Rose hastened her step, following her cousin down the corridor, and finally caught up with her near the front hall. “Diana, wait!”
Spinning around, Diana stared at her through reddened eyes, her cheeks tear-stained and flushed. “How could you?” she sobbed. “How could you dance with him?”
Asking herself that very question, Rose swallowed before she gently took Diana by the arm and guided her through a large door that opened into the library. Fortunately, it lay deserted.
Closing the door behind them, Rose turned to her cousin. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to dance with him. However, my father-”
“You could have said no!”
“I should have,” Rose admitted. “However, my father would have demanded an explanation, and I could not give him one without betraying your secret.”
Sniffling, Diana sank onto the settee behind her. “He does not love me anymore.”
Did he ever? Rose wondered, sitting down beside her cousin.
“He barely even looked at me,” Diana sobbed, fresh tears running down her cheeks. “I thought that at the very least he would…he would…”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Rose shook her head, realising that despite everything that had happened, her cousin had still believed that Lord Norwood cared for her and had hoped for a sign of his feelings. Did love truly addle one’s mind in such a fashion?
“You need to forget about him,” Rose spoke, her voice soft, her words, however, vehement. “Whether he ever truly loved you or not, your future does not lie with him.”
Did her own? An obnoxious voice whispered, and a shiver went through Rose at the thought of that man. She barely knew him, and yet, from the start, her heart had opened to him. Despite everything she had learnt about his character, she still couldn’t bring herself to shut him out of her heart completely.
Although she knew she ought to.
“I know that,” Diana whispered, twisting her handkerchief in her hands. Then she lifted her eyes and met Rose’s gaze. “But I’m not sure if I can.” She swallowed, and her features grew hard. “Even if he does not care for me anymore, every time I look at him, every time I hear his name, I am reminded of what he did to me. He ruined my life! How am I to forget this?”
Rose sighed. “You don’t need to forget, but maybe you should forgive him and move on.”
Diana’s eyes went wide, and she stared at Rose in disbelief. “Forgive him?” she shrieked as red blotches crawled up her heated cheeks. “He ruined me. Because of him, I had to marry an old man and bore a child with the same dull face. A child I cannot love because every time I look at him, I am reminded of the worst night of my life.” She took a deep breath and glared at Rose through narrowed eyes. “Tell me how I am to forgive that!”
Meeting her cousin’s outraged gaze, Rose felt her own muscles tense. For over a year now, she had put up with Diana’s moods. She had comforted her, soothed her pain and held her hand, always a kind and encouraging word on her lips.
Nevertheless, looking at her cousin now, Rose realised that none of it had mattered. None of it had made a difference. Diana was as bitter as she had been a year ago, and if she continued on this path, she would probably die a bitter, old lady, who had led a wasted life.
“He may have ruined you,” Rose said, feeling a sudden cold engulf her heart, “but you let him.” Diana’s eyes snapped open. “Yes, he is at fault for what happened that night, but so are you. It was your choice to follow him. You knew better, and yet, you chose to pursue him.”
“I l-loved him,” Diana stammered.
Rose took her hand. “Did he ever say he loved you?”
Taking a deep breath, her cousin swallowed. “He didn’t have to. I saw it in his eyes.”
“Maybe you were mistaken,” Rose pointed out. “But even if you weren’t, you should not have gone after him, and you know that.”
“Yes, I do,” Diana snapped, jumping to her feet. “Believe me, I do! But even if he didn’t love me, he should have offered for my hand after ruining me. After all, he beckoned me to follow him, he kissed me and then…” Shaking her head, Diana closed her eyes. “Because he didn’t, I had to marry an old man, and I will never be able to forgive him for that.”
Rising to her feet, Rose came to stand before her. “Then you will never be happy.” She took her cousin’s hands in hers. “I know what he did was wrong. He should have married you, but he didn’t, and now, it is up to you to make the best of the life you have.”
Diana took a deep breath, and a single tear ran down her red cheek. Then she nodded and stepped back. “I am getting a migraine,” she said, her eyes hardening, unreceptive of the counsel Rose had given. “I need to find…my husband and go home.”
Then she turned and left.
Taking a deep breath, Rose tried to regain her composure. For the second time that night, contradicting emotions raged through her heart, and she hardly knew what to think. She needed to get home, and maybe after a good night’s sleep, she would find a way to make sense of everything.
On her way back to the ballroom, Rose stepped around a corner and collided with none other than Lord Norwood.
Startled for but a moment, he quickly regained his composure. “I apologise,” he said, extending a hand to steady her. “Are you all right?”
After catching her breath, Rose gl
anced up and down the corridor; they were alone. “What are you doing here?” she snapped, stepping back.
“I was concerned.”
“So you came after me,” she said as though to herself as fear slowly crept up her spine. Turning around, she headed for the door. “Are you intent on ruining me as well?” she asked over her shoulder, her hand reaching for the door handle. Were there no footmen about?
Before she could return to the safety of the ballroom, a hand closed around her arm, gently pulling her back.
“Ruin you?” he asked, incomprehension clouding his face as his eyes searched hers and his hands came to rest on her shoulders. “I merely meant to ensure your safety. You left by yourself and in a rather desolate state. I simply meant to ensure that you were all right.”
Taking a deep breath, Rose stared up into his eyes, which were so full of honest concern that she felt her resolve waver. What was it about this man that he could so easily tear down her walls?
“I was not alone,” she whispered, disgusted with her own response to his closeness. “I went after my cousin.” Shifting her eyes from his, she glanced to her side where his hands still rested on her shoulders.
Following her gaze, he tensed and immediately withdrew them, seemingly unaware of the intimate way he had touched her. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Your cousin? I apologise. I did not mean to intrude. I…I wasn’t aware you had gone after someone. I didn’t see her.”
Rose snorted, then took a step back. “Yes, I did notice that.” Her lips pressed into a thin line as she regarded him through narrowed eyes. “Don’t ever speak to me again,” she hissed, then turned and entered the ballroom before her wits could abandon her.
Still, out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the pained expression that came to his face at her words, and once again, she wondered about the man who had just now set her world aflame.
Did she truly wish never to see him again?
Rose didn’t know, and that frightened her more than anything else in the world.
Chapter Six − A Mere Acquaintance
Lying awake at night seemed to turn into a habit.
As he stared up at the dark ceiling, Charles relived the few moments that he had shared with Rose that night again and again. Try as he might, he could not get her out of his head, and although fatigue rested heavily on his eyelids, they simply wouldn’t close.
How had this happened? He wondered. How had one woman been able to unbalance him in such a way?
Closing his eyes, Charles remembered the turmoil his brother had experienced upon meeting Isabella. A bachelor at heart, Robert, too, had been swept away by a sudden onslaught of feelings, which he had not seen coming and against which he had been unable to defend himself.
Taking a deep breath, Charles wondered. Did he love Rose?
“Argh!” An agonised groan rose from his throat, and he flung back the blanket and shot from the bed. The cool floorboards under his bare feet felt refreshing somehow considering the heat that burned in his heart and shot up and down his entire body. Touching a hand to his forehead, Charles for a moment thought he was coming down with a fever.
This truly is a sickness! he thought, unable to understand how his world had turned upside down in a matter of days.
Before, he had been content, enjoying the company of friends and sharing with them his one true passion: archaeology. Whether he was at Bridgemoore or in London, Charles had always been happy with the life he had, and few things had ever been able to anger him. Never had he understood the wild emotions that so often raged within others, especially his brother. As close as they had always been, Charles had never been able to understand that aspect of his brother’s character, and he had always assumed his own was more rational by nature. Had he been wrong?
Ever since that day at the British Museum, things had begun to change.
Granted, everything had started in a rather innocent way. A chance encounter had led to a friendly conversation about the meaning of knowledge. However, if he was truly honest with himself, Charles had to admit that the passion he had seen light up Rose’s eyes had echoed within his own almost instantly. He had not realised it at the time, but somehow her words had touched him in a way no one else’s had ever before. Not even Isabella’s.
Yes, he and Isabella had shared a mutual interest in ancient cultures. However, by now, it was clear that, like Robert, Isabella was drawn to the places she had only been able to read about before. Just like his brother, she was an adventurer who wanted to explore the unknown, who wanted to see the world from a different perspective and experience everything it had to offer.
Although he could not deny that the thought intrigued him, deep down, Charles knew that he was not like them.
Charles’ interests went beyond civilisations and cultures, beyond country borders and language barriers. What he craved was an understanding of human nature itself and how it reflected in the various types of people throughout time and place. A deeper meaning that connected them all, no matter their culture, language or origin.
Never before in his life had Charles met a woman who shared these desires.
Not until Rose.
Although they had only exchanged a few words, his heart and mind ached for her company, the way her wit challenged his and her thoughts completed his own.
However, if he were truly honest, he had to admit that there was another part of him that wanted her and that had never before ruled him the way they did now.
That night at the ball, he had been tempted to wrap her in his arms, to touch her and kiss her. He had barely realised that his hands had settled on her shoulders as it had seemed only natural that they should be there.
He could only hope that he had not widened the abyss that already existed between them. Was there a chance for them? Could she come to care for him?
Raking his hands through his hair, Charles paced the room. If only his brother would write back and answer the questions that burned in his heart.
From the few words Rose had spoken to him that night, he gathered that not her own personal experience had led to her revulsion of him. However, he could not be certain until he heard from his brother. Until then, doubts would remain, doubts that caused him sleepless nights, his heart thudding in his chest and his insides twisting painfully.
Whatever Robert had done to someone she cared about−possibly the cousin Rose had gone after−was there a way for him to make amends?
Staring out the window at the star-speckled night sky, Charles knew that he had to try. If he did not at least try to redeem himself and win her heart, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
And it wasn’t until that very moment that Charles realised that he had already lost his own to her.
***
“Did you sleep well, my dear?” her father asked from behind his newspaper.
Feeling interrogated, Rose frowned, wondering if he did this on purpose in order to throw her off her guard. Somehow the lack of eye contact made her feel as though she was under a magnifying glass. “I did, yes. And yourself?”
“Quite well.”
Sipping her tea, Rose waited.
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
A smile curled up the corners of her mouth, and she eyed her father−or rather the newspaper behind which he was still hiding−curiously. “I did, yes,” she answered, intentionally not being forthcoming. Whatever her father was fishing for, she would not offer it up without knowing his reason for asking.
“Were you able to form new acquaintances?”
“Indeed, I was.”
“Anyone in particular?”
Aha! As she had suspected, her father was intent on finding out how her dance with Lord Norwood had gone.
Crossing her arms, Rose leaned back in her chair. If he would only ask her directly, she might even tell him.
But what would she tell him?
For the first time in her life, Rose was keeping secrets from her father. But what
was she to do? Diana had sworn her to secrecy, and she could not reveal her encounter with Lord Norwood−at least not in detail−without betraying her cousin.
Would she have otherwise told her father the whole truth? Rose wondered. After all, she couldn’t quite understand that man herself and much less her own reaction to him. So, even if she had not given her word, what was she to say?
The upper right corner of the newspaper came down, and her father looked at her through narrowed eyes. “So?”
Rose drew in a deep breath. “No, no one.”
Nodding, her father returned to reading his paper.
Rose sighed and reached for a muffin when a knock sounded on the door and their butler entered.
Putting down the newspaper, her father said, “What is it, Jenson?”
Rose shook her head. He was indeed doing this on purpose!
“A letter for Miss Lawson.”
Lifting her eyes off her muffin, Rose watched Jenson as he rounded the table and held out a small silver platter to her, an envelope on top.
“Thank you,” she mumbled and took the letter. Turning it over, her eyes went wide when she saw the seal. Although she did not recognise it, it could only belong to one person. Rose swallowed as her breath caught in her throat.
“Who is it from?” her father enquired, for once not hiding behind his newspaper. His otherwise inquisitive eyes were trained to portray merely mild curiosity as he regarded her over his steaming cup of tea.
Hesitating, Rose stared at the imprint in the red wax. Then she lifted her eyes and met her father’s gaze, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Diana,” she lied, feeling a small stab in her heart. “As I told you, she felt rather poorly toward the end of the ball last night and left early.”
An annoyed expression came to her father’s face. “And now she summons you to her side again?” He shook his head.
