Page 24 of The Perfect Rose

As he walked away, a cold wave washed over him as if he’d just been dumped into the ocean. He was not prepared to be this vulnerable with another woman. What if she turned out to be just like Kendra? What if he fell in love again just to be jilted and passed by for someone else? This game that people played to be married made him ill. He’d felt love before, and a broken heart. This undeniable attraction he felt toward Lady Rose was not worth going through that again.

He turned to the drawing room doorway and noticed Lady Gardner and Lord Hanby watching him through narrowed eyes. He pasted on a smile and entered the drawing room, leaving Lady Rose out on the balcony alone. He needed to put a stop to his emotions and some distance between himself and that particular beautiful woman right away.

Chapter Seventeen

Whatever had happened on the balcony last night had been a lie and a mistake, Rose reminded herself as she readied for the morning. Mr. Hastings had never been injured. The feeling of his hand on hers, pulling her toward him invaded her mind and brought heat to her cheeks even after a night’s unrestful sleep.

Had he wanted to start a scandal? The fact that anyone from the entire house party could have seen him so close to her at the abrupt close of their discussion would only start rumors. What purpose could that serve to their plan? She could only hope, if that happened, that those rumors would spark other gentlemen into action if they had any intention of winning her dowry. Mr. Hastings had seemed concerned, hurt, and frustrated with her, and those feelings could be interpreted as a growing relationship of some sort. Rose closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. The whole conversation had felt authentic, and it scared her. She’d never had to answer those questions that he’d posed to her about what she wanted for her life. From her earliest memories, she had always been told what to think and feel. She had no practice making such important decisions herself.

Her walk with Lord Hanby this morning would be a good distraction from her swirling thoughts.

A knock at her door gave her pause. “Come in.”

Her mother swept into the room and glared daggers at her. “Have I taught you nothing? To be out on the balcony last night with a man, alone? What were you thinking?”

Rose had expected the need to defend herself. “We were not alone, Mother. A footman was there the entire time, and the housekeeper came as well.”

“But why? Why do you give Mr. Hastings so much of your time when the duke and the viscount are in the other room?”

Rose felt a pang of annoyance. If it had been the duke out on the balcony with her, her mother would have been congratulating her right now. But Mr. Hastings didn’t hold a title, so he didn’t mean anything to a family as high and mighty as the Gardners. She bit back a sigh at the airs her mother put on. “Mr. Hastings was hurt. I helped him outside to see to his ankle. And no, I did none of the work to put him at ease, I just sat with him while he recovered.” She held her head high. Her mother need not know that Mr. Hastings had not really been hurt. Since Rose had not known at the time either, her intent was true enough.

“He seemed very well when he stomped through the drawing room. What had you done to upset him so?”

Rose hesitated. “I do not know.” Even still, she did not understand what was going through that man’s brain.

Her mother straightened her back as if going into battle. “I would like you to spend less time with Mr. Hastings.”

Rose clenched her teeth together to keep herself from speaking her mind. If Mr. Hastings was titled, everything would be different. Even if there was a possibility of a title, her mother would have been happy for her. But her mother didn’t see people the way Rose was learning to. The countess saw people as opportunities for power or popularity. Mr. Hastings had proven to Rose that he could be selfless and caring just to make a family member happy; that would be a foreign thought for her mother.

Rose gave a small nod. “I’m preparing now for a walk with Lord Hanby.”

“Good. We’ve been here a full week, and you have one week remaining. Do not let it go to waste.”

And with that, her mother turned on her heel and left with all the finality of a general ordering troops to the front lines.

But why was her mother suddenly this concerned about a title or the lack of one, about Rose spending time with Mr. Hastings? Rose no longer needed to hold up the family honor through a marriage alliance. Her parents’ hopes had been fulfilled when Ash was born and would carry on the family name and title. Apparently, after years of pinning all their hopes on Rose, it seemed they still intended for her to further ensure the family’s success by marrying well, and quickly.

Rose tightened the bow of her bonnet beneath her chin and set out to meet the bland Lord Hanby in the entry. She pasted on her best society smile and gave her most polite curtsey. “Good morning, my lord.”

“Lady Rose, I look forward to our morning together.” Lord Hanby held out his arm looking as bored as ever; she half expected him to yawn. “I have so many questions for you after a night as eventful as last evening.”

Why was it that the top tier of society had decided looking bored was fashionable? Lord Hanby’s words communicated something entirely different from his demeanor, and she wished she could know which was closer to his unfettered personality.

Rose tried to smile up at him as they began walking. “Oh yes, I have some suppositions I would love to discuss with you.”

They kept their walk to the formal gardens where they were in full sight of the house.

Rose decided to steer their conversation. “What are your thoughts of Mr. Redford and Miss Trenton? They seemed as happy as a couple could be.”

He gave an indiscernible grunt.

Apparently that topic would take her nowhere. “And Miriam: I could sing her praises all the day long. Her song combined with her playing on the harp was positively heavenly.”

“I would listen more attentively if you sang that song, Lady Rose.”

She blushed. “It would not be half so well done.”

“I disagree. Miss Hastings plays with too much passion and far too little precision for my taste. And I daresay that your performance outshone them all.” He laid his free hand atop her own.