Edmund left, and Cecily threw her arms around Rose, bouncing. Rose gently peeled her sister away. “Here, now, that is no way for a proper young lady to act.”
Cecily gave a quick pout, but couldn’t hold it for long. Her face lit. “This means I’m through with all this season folderol, yes?”
Rose stared at her. “Absolutely not. You are committed to three more balls and you have to get me through this bloody soiree of Mother’s. You will not dare back out.”
This time the pout lasted longer. “I cannot bear to dance with anyone but Tris—Lord Philby.”
“Once his suit is known, you may dance with him more than once, and you can sit out some dances. But it is especially vital you followallSociety protocol at this stage. You must demonstrate that you are well suited to be his countess, which will place you at the heart of Society, now and in the future.” Rose grabbed Cecily’s hands. “This is not your escape from Society—it’s just the beginning of a brand new place within it.”
“And you have not heard anything untoward about him?”
“I have not. I received a missive from France just this morning. His behavior there was above reproach. So let us pray this is a smooth course for all of us.”
Cecily grabbed her in a quick hug, then dashed out of the room.
In the silence left behind, Rose sagged. What she had said to her father that morning rang even truer now that Cecily could be on her way to a betrothal. Weariness had settled into her very marrow. Her flirtation with Thomas Ashton had brought that into focus more than anything lately. Despite what had happened in the park, she had to remain steadfast to their mutual—and admirable—goal, which would be a good way for her to conclude this stage of her life. Whatever dreams—fantasies—she’d held earlier now needed to be put aside with finality. Time for Yorkshire and the rest of her life.
Rose headed for her office, where she planned to write yet another missive to Aunt Sophie. By the end of May, they should know if Lord Philby’s suit would move to the next phase. Rose could begin to pack and send trunks up at that time. By the time of the Blackmore Ball, she could conclude her business here and be on her way to the rest and relaxation available in Yorkshire.
“My lady?”
Rose stopped at her office door and turned to Davis, who held out a silver salver with a letter on it.
“This arrived for you a few moments ago.”
She took the note, thanking him and closing the door. The wax seal bore only a script letter N, and an odd dread began to build in Rose’s gut as she sat on the edge of her desk chair. Reaching for her paper knife, she slipped it under the seal and unfolded the paper.
Lady Rose—
Please accept my sincerest apologies for what transpired between us this morning. In my eagerness and growing affection for you, I transgressed on both your privacy and your person. While my intent was never to cause you harm or embarrassment in any aspect, I managed to do both, showing a distinct lack of respect for your choices and determination to walk the path you see as your best future.
I will continue to honor my part of our agreement, providing information as I acquire it, but I will do so through such missives as this, or through your servants. I also release you from your part, in that our continued association would put that more beneficial goal at risk. You and your dear sister have already provided enough introductions and validation of our character that I believe Lord Robert and I can maneuver through the vagaries of Society without more engagement from either of you.
You are a valued friend, and I hope you will always remember that.
Newbury
PS: Please tell Miss Williams that I find her honesty and loyalty to be refreshing and true. You were blessed to find her.
Rose read the note twice, the words searing into her soul even as her heart turned to ice.
But this is what you wanted. For it to be made clear that you were not meant for him.
So why does it hurt so much?
During the third pass, the letters began to smear and blot as the first of Rose’s tears hit the page. The numbness that had started in her heart spread to her limbs, and she stumbled as she stood and headed for the fireplace on the far side of the room. The tears streamed faster as she watched the flames lick at the edges of the page, consuming the words and melting the wax seal into an unrecognizable blob on one of the ash-coated logs.
“I was wrong, Cecily.” Her hoarse words were clogged with grief and tears. “Some men do say goodbye.”
Her knees giving away, Rose dropped to the ground, her sobs overwhelming her.
Chapter Ten
“Iought notto be talkin’ ’bout a man like this.”
Thomas stood in a shadowed corner of Bill Campion’s office, watching the drama play out in front of him. He kept his temper tamped hard—this was Robert’s world, and he had set this in motion. Thomas would let him take the lead. Indeed, he found watching his brother work in this way rather fascinating.
Leaning against the wall in the opposite shadowed corner, Robert, now Robbie Green, chided the big man who stood in front of the window that overlooked the hell’s gaming floor. His deceptively casual lilt had a tinge of Cockney in it. “Ah c’mon, Gilley. It ain’t nothing you didn’t say to me earlier. Stuff we all know.” He sauntered away from the corner and clamped the man on the shoulder. “Ya just repeating what everyone already knows.”
