“I suggest, sirrah, that you leave this chamber. And do it quickly. You have tried my patience enough. I am not known formy temper, but I am an expert marksman and I am not averse to duelling if I need to defend a lady’s honour. Get yourself from my sight.”
“My lord viscount! I...” Lord Winbrook began.
“Out!” Papa shouted. Rosalyn gaped. She had never heard her father shout before. His voice was like a whip, like the shot of a gun.
Lord Winbrook fled.
Sebastian was still standing in the doorway. Rosalyn gazed at him, hurt that he had brought the fellow into the room. He opened his arms.
“Sister. I wanted to choke the life out of that loathsome fellow myself, but I thought Papa would do a finer job. I beg your forgiveness. I did not know what he would say.”
Rosalyn went to him wordlessly, wrapping her arms around him. She had been succeeding in holding back her tears, but Sebastian was someone with whom she had always cried if she needed to. She leaned against his chest and sobbed and sobbed.
“You know, I never liked that fellow,” Sebastian said quietly. “He has no taste in cravats. And I cannot speak well of a man who ties them so poorly.”
Rosalyn giggled. In spite of the pain and the horror, it was still possible to find Sebastian amusing. She hugged him close.
“Let us go back to the suite,” Sebastian suggested softly. “It’s late at night. We do not need to sleep,” he said to Rosalyn gently. “We can sit in the parlour and play cards. I do not need to sleep.” He grinned.
Rosalyn gazed at him with affection. He understood better than anyone, better even than Papa did. She let him lead her to the door. They walked out and up the stairs and if anyone was there to stare and whisper, she hugged Sebastian firmly and paid them no mind. Together, they made their way to the suite.
“I shall rest,” Papa said as they entered the parlour area that formed the centre of their three chambers. He was grey with weariness, Rosalyn noticed, and her heart twisted. It was already one o’clock.
“Come, sister,” Sebastian said gently. “We can sit here. It will be like when we tried to stay awake when we were little.”
Rosalyn chuckled. Memories of their childhood were sure to make her laugh, no matter how much her heart was aching. She let Sebastian guide her to the table and settled in a low chair. She had brought a shawl, and she wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. There was a fire, but she felt icy cold. She shivered.
“Now,” Sebastian said, reaching for a pack of cards. “I think you might do me the grace of showing me how it is that you always manage to win at cribbage. It has bothered me since you were eight.”
Rosalyn smiled at him. She knew that he was trying to make her laugh, and she wanted to let him; wanted him to coax her out of the sadness that had settled like winter on her soul. She just could not quite ignore the pain that she was in.
She took the cards, and they started to play. It was impossible to focus, and so she set the cards aside and they began to talk instead.
“Remember when we tried to get into the kitchen through the window?” Sebastian said.
“I did not try,” Rosalyn reminded him with a smile.
“No. True. You did not. I did, though. Cook almost hit me with a spoon. She thought I was a proper bandit.”
Rosalyn smiled. She was feeling tired. Cold and tired. She blinked, trying to stay awake. Sebastian’s voice continued, talking about how the cook had shouted at him for trying to enter the kitchen by force. Her eyelids drooped and her thoughts wandered, and she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, she woke to the sound of voices. Papa was in the parlour, and Sebastian was with him. They were talking in hushed voices.
“...we should go back.”
“We could go to London!” Sebastian argued. “So many diversions. It would be best.”
“Your sister should avoid London. People talk. We need to go to Cranfield Hall.”
Rosalyn’s heart ached. Her father was correct. Lord Winbrook had damaged her reputation and, though she was grateful to her father for taking her views on things, in many ways it would have been safer for her to do as he had suggested.
“Papa...it should not matter,” Sebastian began, but Rosalyn could hear he agreed. She stretched, and the two instantly fell silent.
“Sister,” Sebastian said gently. “Would you care for some breakfast? I am starving.”
Rosalyn blinked. She was stiff and cold. She smiled at Sebastian, doing her best to look as well as she could. She was grateful to him for his kindness. “I do not really feel much like eating,” she tried to explain.
“I’m going to send for some tea and things anyway,” Sebastian said firmly. “And then you can decide what you would like, eh? I cannot eat it all by myself, you know.” He strode over to ring the bell. He was wearing fresh trousers and a white shirt and Rosalyn shivered. She had slept in the chair without a change of clothes.
