Rose clutched her hands together and stared down at them. Her fingers felt frigid and they had turned bluish on the tips. “Is love ever mentioned?”
Edmund set the paper aside. “Not unless you want to sound like a schoolboy without the sense and maturity to pursue such a momentous decision.” He sighed. “You know most Society marriages are arranged with the same sense of financial and dynasty concerns as the merging of two companies. Why does this one”—he tapped Thomas’s letter—“upset you?”
Rose shook her head, her focus remaining on her icy fingertips. Her heart lingered on last night, and her mind now felt muddled and confused. Why would he treat her likethat, then dothis?
“Did you ever love Mother?”
Edmund stilled. “I beg your pardon?”
Her shoulders sank a bit lower. “Did you ever love Mother?”
“What makes you think I do not love your mother now?”
Rose squinted, looking up at him. “Because you never—you don’t seem to—the way you are with her—”
Edmund scowled. “Rosamund Charlotte, my marital relationship with Lady Dorothea takes place behind closed doors, and it is certainly none of your business nor that of anyone else in this household. The way we behave outside our rooms is by design and represents a proper Society marriage. You should never judge a relationship by the way it appears in public. That’s a course of pure folly.”
“Oh.”
“I know you were angry with Newbury last night. Are you still?”
Rose gestured at the paper. “I was. Now I don’t—” She chewed her lower lip. “I may have been wrong.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Will you refuse him?”
“Do you think I should?”
Edmund hesitated. “If you think I’m going to speak to the heart of my most unpredictable and passionate child, you may want to reconsider that question.”
Rose finally smiled. “Touché. In terms of a business arrangement, do you think it’s an equitable match?”
Edmund shook his head. “For you, yes. For him, no, although your mother would be mortified to hear me say it.”
“Pretend I’m mortified for her.”
Edmund chuckled. “He’s a marquess, and not just the son of any duke. Kennet is phenomenally rich and remarkably powerful. When he speaks in Parliament, people listen, even if they grumble. He has some unusual ideas. He’s taken the lead in showing the aristocracy how to survive when many of the great country estates are not as profitable as they once were. For the past thirty years, he’s worked to increase his holdings and his investments, well beyond what’s entailed to the title. They are, at this point, one of the finest families in Britain. I am a mere earl and a lower ranking one at that. Our family is not as financially stable as it once was.” He grimaced. “I should talk to Kennet about his visions. Thomas could court foreign royalty if he had a mind to.”
“So he would be marrying down.”
“I would not go that far. I am a peer of the realm.”
Rose nodded. “But after last night—I—I think we should talk.”
“An excellent idea. Do you want me to invite him here?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Rose nodded.
Then she jumped as a fierce banging sounded on the door. Edmund muttered a curse under his breath, then called, “Not now, please.”
The door flew open and Dorothea strode into the room. “Edmund!”
Her father leapt to his feet. “Dorothea! What the devil—”
Rose stood as well as her mother thrust a piece of paper at her father. “Mother?”
Lady Dorothea’s breaths came rapidly, her eyes wide. She turned to Rose as Edmund read the note, his face slowly losing color, and grasped Rose by the upper arms. “Oh, Rose!” Then she pulled her into a hug, which Rose returned awkwardly, looking over her mother’s shoulder at the cluster of folks standing in the doorway. Cecily, whose arms were crossed tightly, her face a mask of concern. Davis and Sarah, whose tight faces relayed an intense distress.
Rose pushed back from her mother and faced her father. “Papa?”
