He chuckled, a warm sound that curled around her spine. “Doesthat surprise you?”
“A little.”
“I enjoy poetry. Love stories. Shakespeare.” His gaze was steady, and something in it caught her off guard. “Anything, really.”
“I’d be happy to find something for you,” she said softly.
“There we are.” He stood, cradling the roses in his arms as if they were fragile. “All safe now.”
He stepped toward her. She reached out to take the flowers, and as he placed them in her arms, his fingers brushed hers again. Had he done it on purpose?
“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely audible.
For a moment, they stood in the golden hush of morning. Bees hummed, birds called, but all she could hear was the thunder of her own heart.
Sebastian looked down at her lips, then stepped back.
“My pleasure, Lady Rose.”
*
That evening, beforesupper, Rose slipped into the library. The room was warm and heavy with the familiar scents of tobacco and brandy. Her father had been there recently.
She found what she was looking for quickly—A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Perfect for Sebastian, especially with the upcoming ball theme.
“Rose.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Her father sat in the shadows of a high-backed chair, a brandy glass glinting in his hand.
“Father. You startled me.”
“What are you doing?”
She hesitated, the play still in her hand. “Looking for something to read.”
He took a slow sip of brandy, his pale eyes assessing. Then camethe familiar condescension, coiled in civility.
“You must remember what a privileged life you’ve had Rose.”
“What does that mean?”
“Access to books. An education. Sometimes I wonder if you truly appreciate all you’ve been given.”
“But I do, Father. Especially my education. Books are one of my greatest joys.”
“You’ll have ample time to read once you’re married. Baron White has assured me that you’ll have whatever it is you wish for.”
She gripped the book tighter. “What if my wish is to remain here. With you.”
A snap of irritation sparked in his eyes. “We’ve been over this. This is what is best for you. A tidy marriage serves us both.”
“But why?”
“You know the answer to that question,” he said.
She did not, actually.
He got up from the chair and walked toward her, then held out his hand. “What have you chosen?” A slight smile played at his lips. “Ah, yes, preparing for the ball. Excellent.”
