Page 14 of The Thorn and the Rose

“They’re beautiful,” she said, forcing herself to keep her breathing even, fighting back the tears that would fall if she did not keep her emotions in check.

“Well, I know how much you resented me selling your pearls. These are hardly the same quality, but perhaps they take away the sting a little.”

Rosemarie’s gaze flew to him, her temper sparking even though she knew better. “Resented it? For heaven’s sake, Everett I would have sold them myself if the money had gone to repairing the roof, or paying the staff, or even merely to put food on the table if that was required, but this… this madness you have undertaken…”

Something dark and furious flashed in his eyes.

“Madness, is it? To seek revenge for someone who cannot do it themselves?”

“If it ruins us in the process, indeed it is! Everett, we cannot pay our bills. How on earth did you find money for these?” she protested, willing him to understand how close to ruin they stood. Rosemarie felt as though she teetered precariously on the edge of a sheer cliff, and his hand was at her back. She no longer believed he meant to snatch her away from danger.

“You dare to question me?” he demanded.

“Everett, please…” Marie begged, praying she could find a way to get through to him. “Can you not understand that revenge will not help anyone, least of all us?”

All at once the anger faded, as suddenly as it had arrived, but the look in his eyes was far from kind. The loving brother of her childhood faded farther and farther away, replaced by this new, dangerous stranger.

“You did very well in town, by the way,” he said silkily, changing the subject in such a way that her nerves prickled with anxiety. “I’m sorry I had to be so… forceful with you, but in the end it worked perfectly.”

Rosemarie stared at him, heartsick and utterly confused. “I still don’t understand what you hoped to achieve by keeping him there. Was it just to make his family worry about him? Why punish them, Everett, if he is the one to blame?”

“They are all to blame, all of them! I know who is the most culpable, but that does not make any of them innocent. They live gilded lives and never have to take responsibility for their actions. Well, I shall make them responsible. All of them.”

“But then why make me be nice to him?” Marie asked in bewilderment. “Why was it so important I spend time with him and draw him out?”

“Because, my sweet little sister, you’re beautiful and intelligent, and yet innocence shines from you. A man like that, his palate jaded from having everything he wants for the snap of his fingers, could not help but be entranced by such a delicious morsel dangled right in front of him. He wants you, to put it baldly, my dear. If I know anything, I would say he wants you badly. The next time he sees you, he’ll try to get you in his power. Oh, he’ll make out he’s trying to help you, to keep you safe, of that you may be certain. But from there, it will be a quick journey into his bed. You mark my words.”

Rosemarie blushed, mortified. He had, by his own admission, used her to bait a hook. This was her affectionate brother, the man she had believed cared for her. If she had not known there was no one in the world looking out for her before, she knew it now.

“The kiss was a nice touch,” he added, and she did not mistake the look in his eyes for admiration.

“You were watching!” she exclaimed, horrified.

“Little fool. You think I don’t know everything you do? I know you too well, my dear. I understand your tender romantic dreams. You want a hero to come and rescue you like in those wretched books you read, and you are too blind to the reality of life to see the difference between a hero and a libertine who will use you and set you aside. Well, I see. I see everything.” He reached out and took hold of her chin, forcing her to look up into his eyes. They were hazel, like her own, and once so familiar, so dear. No longer. “I hope you were not so ill-advised as to develop a tendre for him, Rosemarie, my pet? I do hope it was all for show, as I instructed you. It wasn’t a real kiss, was it?”

“Of course not,” she spat, knocking his hand away. “Thank you for the earrings, Everett. I will be sure to pawn them when we can no longer pay the butcher… oh, wait. That’s now. Goodnight, brother,” she said, and swept out of the room, snatching up her candle and slamming the door behind her.

For a moment it felt good to vent her anger, to release some of the pent-up tension that simmered inside her constantly now, but then she looked up to see her mother hovering at the top of the stairs. Dressed in a frilly white nightgown and wrap, an equally frilly lace cap atop her head, she looked absurdly fragile, almost ghostlike.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice whispery and faint, for she had always been a little afraid of her eldest son. “Did you argue with Everett? Is he angry? What is it?”

“No, no,” Marie soothed, wearily. “The door slipped from my grasp and shut too loudly, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong. He gave me a present, actually. Look.”

She opened the box to show her mother the earrings inside. “Oh, how lovely. Well, that’s all right, then,” Mama said with a sigh. “We are lucky, are we not, to have such a man to rely on?”

Marie wished she could be so easily placated by a lie, that she could live in her mother’s hazy world of memories.

“Oh, indeed,” she agreed, somehow keeping the irony from her voice, guiding her mother back to her bedroom. “Go to sleep now, Mama.”

Mama turned, her eyes a glitter of anxiety in the candlelight. “You’re sure there’s nothing wrong?”

“Quite sure,” Marie said again, disturbed by how easily lies fell from her lips now, remembering how many lies she had told Mr Barry at her brother’s insistence.

She kissed her mother’s soft cheek before she found her own bed, or at least a place to lie awake and restless for the hours of darkness.

Chapter 5

Dear Thorn,