With a sigh, his father said, “There may come a time that she doesn’t remember any of us.”
“Let’s hope that time doesn’t come soon.”
His father withdrew his hand and his eyes shone with sadness. “I don’t know what I am going to do without your mother. She is my whole world.”
“You will learn to make do,” he encouraged. “We will all have to.”
Not appearing convinced, his father said, “You are right. Excuse me. I need to return to your mother.”
Once he was alone in the corridor, Roswell leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he was going to do when his mother passed. She had been the rock for their family for as long as he could remember, and he was afraid they would start unraveling once she was gone.
The door opened and Nancy stepped into the corridor. “Pardon me, my lord,” she said. “I hadn’t expected to see you here.”
Roswell straightened to his full height. “It is all right. I was just leaving.”
Nancy looked hesitant before saying, “Forgive me for saying this but your mother is constantly staring at your miniature portrait. In fact, she has all her children’s miniature portraits on the top shelf of her table beside the bed.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” he said as he went to walk away.
Nancy continued. “When she does forget you, or any of her children, for that matter, she stares at the miniature portraits so intently as if she is trying to will herself to remember.”
Roswell lifted his brow. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because your mother loves you very much, and I just thought you should know,” Nancy said before lowering her gaze.
Touched by the lady’s maid’s thoughtfulness, Roswell responded, “Thank you. I do appreciate what you told me.”
Nancy brought her gaze up. “You are welcome, my lord,” she said.
Roswell watched as Nancy walked down the corridor before he headed towards the entry hall. He had business that he had to see to.
As he descended the stairs, a knock came at the door.
Carson appeared from a side room and crossed the entry hall. He opened the door and accepted a bouquet of flowers.
“Who are those for?” Roswell asked.
Carson shifted the vase in his hand and reached for the card. “These are for Lady Octavia,” he said, holding it up. “They were sent by Mr. Barnard. Would you care to read the card?”
Roswell approached Carson and accepted the card. He read the brief message and crumpled the card in his hand. That infuriating man. Why was he sending his sister flowers?
“My lord?” Carson asked.
“Has Mr. Barnard come to call on my sister again?” he demanded.
Carson shook his head. “He has not. Should I deny him entry?”
Roswell wanted to order Carson to never let Mr. Barnard enter this townhouse ever again, but he was unable to do so. He didn’t know why he had such disdain for Mr. Barnard but he just did. He didn’t trust him farther than he could throw him.
But Octavia seemed to take a fancy towards him. If he tried to forbid her from seeing Mr. Barnard, she wouldn’t listen to him, not unless he had just cause.
Knowing that Carson was still waiting for a response, Roswell said, “Mr. Barnard may call upon Octavia, but do ensure that she is properly chaperoned.”
“Very good, my lord,” Carson responded.
Roswell headed towards the main door and said, “I have an errand that I must see to. I will be back later this afternoon.”
“Would you care for me to bring the coach around front?”
