“I would like to dress,” she said softly, standing and going to the door of her chamber.
“Of course, sister,” Sebastian said gently. “I shall not touch the pastries.”
Rosalyn smiled. He was trying so hard to make her laugh, and she wished more than anything that she could. She shut thedoor behind her and went to the wardrobe, selecting a brown dress at random. She dressed herself hastily, drawing her hair back into a bun.
When she returned to the parlour, her sisters were there. They were dressed and they looked worried. They embraced her.
“Rosalyn! We were so worried.”
“Rosalyn, dear! Let us go home to Cranfield Hall.”
Rosalyn sat silently. It made sense to do so. She reached for the food and drink that Sebastian had ordered brought to the room. It gave her something to do while she thought. “We should go to the Hall,” she agreed.
“I shall inform the duchess,” Papa said after they had eaten. Rosalyn’s stomach twisted. She did not want to think about that woman. She did not want to see any of them. She wanted to run back to the Hall and try to ride Marmalade and forget everything that had happened.
They waited for Papa and then all of them went down to the coach. Rosalyn glanced at Sebastian. It was unfair, she realised suddenly. He had no need to depart from the manor. He could stay. She turned to him, about to say so, but he turned back to her.
“Papa said mayhap we could make a trip to Brighton,” he said lightly. “In the springtime, of course. You won’t catch anyone bathing in the wintertime; no one in their right mind, at least.” He chuckled.
“Sebastian. You...” Rosalyn began.
“I am doing what I think is right,” Sebastian said firmly. “Now, let me help you in. It’s snowing and my toes hurt.”
Rosalyn gazed up at him, horror and sorrow aching in her heart. They were both suffering. And her sisters, too, looked sad and subdued. She shut her eyes.
Papa clambered up into the coach, and then he shut the door, and they were heading off. Rosalyn gazed through thewindow. Sebastian was right. It was snowing. It was thick, heavy snow and she frowned. They should not travel in such conditions. Not only for the horses, but because the coach could easily become stuck.
“Papa. Should we not...” she began.
“I wish to be away from that place,” her father said tightly. “It offends me.”
Rosalyn breathed out. She had not expected his absolute, unwavering upholding of her. Somehow, she had expected societal matters to carry more weight with him than she did. But she was absolutely and entirely wrong. He supported her utterly. She blinked, touched beyond words.
“It shall be warmer in the southern parts,” her sister said firmly.
“And we can see the horses,” Isabel reminded her.
“Yes,” Rosalyn whispered. She gazed at her sisters and at her father and brother. Her heart ached. She was more hurt and frightened than she had ever been, and yet one thing—one wonderful thing—was that she did know just how much she was loved.
The coach rolled on. Rosalyn watched the snow fall, her heart aching, and the only thing greater than her sorrow was the constant, gnawing fear that they might become stuck in the snow.
She closed her eyes, listening to the soft chatter around her, and silently prayed for their safety—for their well-being both on the journey and beyond.
Chapter 26
Callum sat in the drawing room. The snow fell in a flurry down onto the garden. It was the day before Christmas and the house was silent. The guests were still all at the manor, but Mother had the decency to take them on an outing to the lake, which had frozen, so that those who wished might go ice-skating. Callum watched the snow. When he stared at it, he did not have to think. The world became small and silent, and it blotted out his thoughts.
“Brother?”
Callum blinked. He thought he heard a voice, but he must have imagined it. Harriet had gone with Mother to the lake to ice-skate, so it could not be her. He kept on looking out over the snow.
The sound of the butler pushing the tea trolley—rattling, clanking—broke his concentration. He cursed softly as memories of Miss Rothwell surged unbidden into his mind. He recalled her laughing in the snow with her sisters, her cheeks flushing as she sat in the coach beside him. He remembered her tenderness on the night when he had needed her help. He swore under his breath.
“Brother! I had to talk to you!” Harriet’s voice was loud. Callum spun around. His eyes widened.
“Harriet! I thought you were ice-skating?” he asked swiftly.
“I was,” Harriet replied. “I chose to come back earlier. But Mama and the others are on their way. I have to tell you something. Please, listen!”
