“Were you educated before that? You speak with such refinement.”
“My mother was born into a good family but she fell from grace. However, she managed to teach me letters and numbers and the art of elocution.”
“What did she do?” Rose looked at him with wide eyes. “To fall, that is.”
“In the usual way.” He left it at that, hoping she would fill in whatever she thought that meant.
“I see. Leaving her alone with a baby.” Rose’s voice was gentle, understanding rather than judgmental. “It must have been difficult for her. I can’t imagine being cast aside. Or, rather, I can. And it would be terrifying.”
“We managed.” He returned to his work, hoping to discourage further questions, but also moved by her compassion.
“Is she passed now?”
“Yes, just before I joined the military.” He thought of his papa as he said, “I miss her every day.”
“I lost my mother when I was eight.” Rose’s voice grew soft, heavy with a grief that seemed to echo in the garden around them. “I, too, miss her every day. Sometimes I wonder what advice she might give me now.”
The raw pain in her tone made Sebastian look up despite his intentions otherwise. She looked so young sitting there—so lost—that for a moment he forgot she was Wentworth’s daughter. He saw only a girl who’d grown up without the one person who’d loved her most. Just like him and his siblings.
“I’m sorry for your loss, my lady. It is a terrible thing to lose a parent. Especially so young.”
“Thank you.” She was quiet for a moment, then seemed to shake herself. “I shouldn’t be keeping you from your work. Mr. Thorncroft will be displeased if the roses suffer because of my curiosity about you.”
Sebastian managed a small smile. “I think you’re safe from Mr. Thorncroft’s wrath, Lady Rose.”
She laughed—a genuine, bubbly sound that felt like a soft tickle in his chest. “You might be surprised. He’s quite protective of his gardens.”
“Not above you, Lady Rose. From what I can tell, the staff’s quite fond of you.”
“And I of them. After my mother’s death, I spent most of my time with them. Father was away a lot and even when he was here, he had little interest in me. When we were in London, he was always at his club. Here in the country, he’s mostly managing the affairs of the estate.”
And illegal brandy,Sebastian thought grimly.
Rose stood from the swing, moving toward a particularly beautiful pink rose in full bloom. “My mother would have loved seeing how the garden has flourished. Mr. Thorncroft says these pink ones were her favorites.”
She leaned forward to inhale the flower’s fragrance, but her foot caught on an uneven stone in the path. Sebastian saw her stumble and reacted instinctively, dropping his brush and catching her around the waist before she could fall.
For a moment, they were frozen—her hands pressed against his chest, his arms around her slender form, their faces mere inches apart. He could smell the delicate scent of lavender in her hair, could see the flecks of gold in her green eyes, could feel the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.
“I am sorry for my clumsiness.” Her cheeks flushed as pink as the roses.
Sebastian’s heart hammered so hard he was certain she could feel it through his shirt. This close, he could see the gentle curve of her lips, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She was beautiful—achingly, dangerously beautiful—and for one mad moment he forgot who they both were.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
“No, I… thank you.” But she made no move to step away, and neither did he.
The moment stretched between them, fragile and electric, untilthe sound of approaching footsteps broke the spell. Sebastian quickly steadied her and stepped back, his hands falling to his sides just as Hargrave appeared around the corner of the garden path.
“Lady Rose.” The butler’s cold eyes took in the scene with obvious disapproval. “Your father wishes to see you about the final preparations for tomorrow’s arrivals.”
“Of course.” Rose smoothed her skirts, though Sebastian noticed her hands trembled slightly. “Thank you for… preventing my fall, Sebastian.”
“Of course, my lady.”
She walked away with Hargrave, but not before casting one last glance over her shoulder that made Sebastian’s breath catch all over again.
He stood there long after they’d disappeared, his heart still racing, knowing that everything had just become infinitely more complicated. He couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for her. Not when his father’s memory demanded justice. Not when his siblings’ futures depended on him succeeding in his mission.
