“His grace and I will go to the house to talk,” her father said awkwardly. “If you would prefer to stay at the stable, then you are of course welcome to do so.”
Rosalyn swallowed. “Of course, Papa,” she said swiftly. “I will remain here. Good day to you both,” she added, though her throat was so tight that she could barely get the words out.
“Good day,” the duke said coldly.
Her father smiled; his brown eyes set in wrinkles that showed whenever he grinned. She knew he was trying to reassure her, his concern evident in his dark eyes. Then he turned and walked with the duke towards the house. Rosalyn stayed where she was for a few minutes, then rushed back into the stables.
“Should I go to take stock of the feed, my lady?” Mr Hensley asked her. Rosalyn jumped. She had thought she was unobserved. She nodded.
“Yes. Please, Mr Hensley. I will complete my grooming of the horses.”
“Very good, my lady.”
Rosalyn remained rooted to the spot, too flustered to move.He is here to finalise the arrangement with Papa, she thought, her stomach churning. It was an arrangement that involved her—no, more than involved her; she was at the very heart of it.
“That man has no decency,” she said softly but angrily. He had come to see the stables, that was all. He had barely spared a glance at her.
Except that he did. He was staring at me for half the time,she reminded herself. She shivered and tucked her hair into its bun.He was probably shocked by my tatty appearance,she thought sadly. His gaze had given nothing away, but she hesitated to call it an admiring stare.
“Well, I don’t want his admiration,” she told her horse firmly. He was horrid, cold and frosty and she did not like him at all. She bit her lip. He was going to be part of her life soon. An inescapable reality was looming closer every moment.
“Heavens help me,” she whispered, her fingers moving involuntarily to the little pearl cross that she wore around her neck—it had belonged to her mother, and she wore it always, a talisman to keep her safe. Her fingers closed around it where it lay under her dress, over her heart.
“Sister?” a voice called. “Sister? Where are you?”
“Sebastian! I’m here,” Rosalyn called, recognising her brother’s voice. She went towards the door in time to see him striding up the path towards the stable. He was dressed in a black tailcoat, a high-necked white shirt and long dark grey trousers. Of all the family, Sebastian was most often in London, and he dressed accordingly.
He smiled, a grin lighting up his long, thin face. He looked exactly like their father—or, exactly like he must have looked twenty years ago. At twenty-five, Sebastian was the eldest of the siblings and managed the estate alongside Papa, though he took more interest in investing and finance than Papa ever had. He looked into her eyes and a worried expression shadowed his features.
“Are you quite well, sister? You seem troubled.”
“No, I am quite well,” Rosalyn said quickly. As the eldest sister and the one who had managed the household since their mother’s passing, she was accustomed to appearing more cheerful than she felt.
“Come on. Let’s go indoors,” Sebastian said gently.
Rosalyn walked with him out of the stables. She looked up at him, overwhelmed with gratitude for his being there. “I am so glad you’re back from London,” she said softly.
“So am I!” Sebastian grinned. “I feel like when I was at school. Escaping Eton for the Christmas season was one of my favourite parts of the year.”
“Yes! It was grand to have you home for Christmas,” Rosalyn said, sighing too at the memory.
“I am glad you felt that way,” Sebastian said with a chuckle. “I could be a terror when I came back for the holidays.”
“Remember the time you climbed the oak tree and got stuck?” Rosalyn asked.
“I did not get stuck,” Sebastian said, sniffing as if affronted. “I simply rested up there.”
“For an hour?” Rosalyn teased.
They both laughed.
“It was not just me. We were both frightfully naughty when we were children—not just me,” Sebastian commented with a laugh. “Remember when we stole flowers from the garden at the neighbour’s house in London? Or when I stole mince pies from the kitchen?”
“They were so hot,” Rosalyn recalled. “They had just come out of the oven. And we tried to eat them.”
“Yes!” Sebastian was laughing heartily, a big grin lighting his face. “The cook heard us screaming and that rather gave us away.”
Rosalyn laughed aloud, her shoulders shaking with amusement as she remembered. “You screamed so loudly! And then we were both laughing.”
