Page 57 of The Perfect Rose

Lady Gardner looked utterly unmoved. Not that it was a surprise, but it was a little disturbing. When Samuel had spoken with Frederick about Miriam being taken away from him, it nearly tore him to shreds. Yet here she sat, with a calculated, unflinching gaze upon him.

He pushed on. “I would ask your permission to ask Lady Rose for her hand in marriage.”

“And why, Mr. Hastings, do you believe you deserve her?” Lady Gardner tipped her chin to the side: it was a look Rose had given him many times before.

He shook his head. “I’m certain I don’t deserve her. But I don’t believe anyone can truly deserve a woman. I only know that I would cherish her always and provide for her financial security and that of a family, if it be the Lord’s will.”

Lady Gardner clasped her hands together in her lap and leaned forward, just a bit. Frederick had the impression that he was a small child about to learn a very basic lesson. “You are correct that you do not deserve her. But unlike you imply, she deserves more than you can offer her. She is an heiress in her own right. Your financial stability does not improve upon the life she has thus lived.”

Frederick sat back into his chair, as if the little bit of distance between them would protect him in some way from her haughtiness. How had Rose turned out to be so inherently good and grounded when the woman before him was the example to follow? He clenched his jaw in an attempt to reign in his manners. Thus far, she had not officially rejected his offer. He had to hold out hope, because Gretna Green was looking like a desirable place to visit in the future if she declined him. Stepping away from Rose now was not an option. “In this area, I agree with you. Surely, Lady Rose has been raised in the best of financial circumstances and has been given every opportunity she could ever desire. I applaud you and your family.” He dipped his head, hoping he’d said the right words, although they tasted like sour milk.

“I will allow you to make your intentions known to my daughter, Mr. Hastings.”

Frederick breathed in sharply.

“But know this, you are not the only gentleman who has expressed interest in my daughter’s dowry. The chances of your match coming to fruition are very low.”

Frederick could not let the slight go unnoticed. “You mistake me, My Lady. I have no interest in your daughter’s dowry beyond the value she puts on it herself. My sole interest is in her person.”

Lady Gardner gave a false, breathy laugh. “That is neither here nor there. But Rose will be allowed to hear your case.” She stood, putting a stilted ending to their conversation. “If you would excuse me, Lord Hanby has asked to speak with me.” She turned without so much as a curtsy and left Frederick in his study.

Frederick stood and closed the door after she’d left. Perhaps he should have thanked her for her permission, but he hadn’t felt the least bit thankful. Frustrated was more the thing. He paced the length of his mahogany desk back and forth and rubbed his hands down his face. Whatever he’d imagined the meeting going like, it hadn’t been what had occurred. But the important element was that he did have her permission, if not her blessing, to move forward. That was a big step in the right direction.

Frederick thought about Miriam’s plan for the day. Stage one: get through tea without paying Rose too much attention. He’d done it, barely. And even though Frederick knew that Samuel had absolutely no designs on Rose, he still found himself jealous of the time they’d spent together. Stage two: apply to the countess for Lady Rose’s hand and pick a thousand wildflowers. The difficult part of stage two accomplished, he could set to work gathering flowers with a clear conscience that he’d done right by Lady Rose’s family.

He set his hat atop his head and jogged down the corridor, cut through the kitchen where he stole a biscuit, and hurried out to the stables to find Bug. Stuart had Bug saddled and ready to go.

“How did you know?”

The older man laughed. “Your sister stopped by. She also sent three large baskets and three pairs of scissors. Luke is going to join us in our wildflower gathering.” The young apprentice to the stablemaster rode out of the stable on a young mare, a wide smile on his face.

“Let’s go pick some flowers.” The boy laughed and led the way down the road toward the fields.

An hour later, the two men and a boy rode back slowly, their baskets laden with purple, pink, yellow, and white wildflowers. Frederick wouldn’t be surprised if a swarm of bees came and stung him in protest for the load they bore. But if he was stung again, he would ask for Lady Rose to come treat his wounds and it would be worth it to have her soft fingers on his skin again.

He thanked Luke and Stuart, and he hauled the baskets to the kitchen. Miriam was there looking over something with the housekeeper. She looked up when he came through the door. “Oh Frederick! Well done, these are going to be stunning! I still cannot believe what you intend to do with them.” She pursed her lips and took a deep breath as if she were praying for patience. “I’ve asked Ann to help you with the bouquet. She’s a wonder with flowers; she does all the arrangements in the house.”

A timid young girl, perhaps fifteen years old, stepped up beside Frederick and took one of the baskets from him without a word. He followed her to a table and put the other two baskets down on the floor.

He looked at a single, very large vase on the table. “Do you need me to bring you the chair?”

She glanced up at him with laughter in her eyes. “I didn’t quite know if Miss Hastings was being serious when she requested it. But yes, if that is truly your wish, Mr. Hastings.”

He straightened his jacket with a flair that was completely fictitious. “I am always serious. But in this, especially.” He winked at her and left to fetch an extra chair from the library. He picked out a sage green padded chair with a wicker backing. It was simple, but it had sturdy arms and accessible legs. In essence, it was perfect for what he needed.

When he sat the chair next to the worktable Ann had set up, she smiled. “I believe I can work a wonder with this, Mr. Hastings.”

“I’m counting on you to help me not look like a fool. Thank you very much for your assistance.”

Frederick looked around the kitchen for Miriam, but she had disappeared. No doubt to check on all the preparations for the ball or to get ready herself. That left him with the last part of stage two. Where he was supposed to make himself into a prince and not wear a hole in the rug at the foot of his bed. That, he could do. He’d need the time to try to straighten out his words.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Rose gently shut the door to her bedchamber and turned around to face her room. She crossed to the bed and laid down on her stomach across the ivory coverlet. She opened the book Miriam had lent her, Romeo and Juliet. The words on the page blurred before her eyes. Although it had been months, perhaps even more than a year, since she’d read the play, Rose remembered the ending. Poor Juliet didn’t get her beloved in the end and the pain of it drove her to kill herself. Would Rose feel the same way?

She blinked. No, Juliet was far too rash. Rose had a better head on her shoulders than that. She would make do with her circumstances and do her best to thrive. She blinked again. The words on the page were written by hand. She flipped through the pages. In fact, the words in the book were written in two very different hands. She began to read.

My dearest M. I am just now returned from the G. ball. I must say that you looked entirely enchanting. Thank you for the supper set. Do you think Mr. Carlisle would have liked his soup better if it contained a frog? F. taught me about how to use a frog correctly, you see, and I cannot see an upset man eating soup without the reminder. What a laugh we would have had. Instead, I believe we soldiered on well enough through the political monologue. Having you by my side makes everything easier. S.