Page 20 of The Thorn and the Rose

The iniquity of such an act was beyond her comprehension, though after seeing what harm he’d done to the man with his bare hands, she ought not be surprised. This, finally, brought home to her how changed her brother was and how very dangerous. He seemed to care nothing for her, for her reputation or her safety, only that his revenge be fulfilled.

“Oh, I reminded him he owed you a debt, and told him how afraid you were of your wicked brother and that you needed to escape because you feared for your safety. Then I arranged for you to meet him in the gardens of St Paul’s Church in Covent Garden on Friday at midday. I sent it care of that vile club of theirs, as he requested.”

Rosemarie hid her horrified reaction as best she could, aware she had limited means to fight her brother. He held the purse strings, such as they were; he was master of this house and in charge of everything. If he turned against her and put her out, she had nowhere to go. They had no other family. Everett was the last of his line. His father, the late Baron Childe, had been their mother’s first husband, a cruel bully of a man whom they’d been well rid of, from all Rosemarie could gather. Mama had married again, and Rosemarie’s own father had been a good man, a kind one. It had been a love match. When he had died, Marie had been little more than a babe, and it had destroyed their mother. She had lost herself in her memories, surfacing now and then to bestow a kiss or a hug on her little daughter, but she had never really been present, affectionate as she was. But, back then, Everett had seemed to Rosemarie to be everything a man ought. He had doted on her as a child, had looked after both her and Mama with such kindness and devotion. Until he too had suffered the pain of heartbreak.

How destructive love could be when things went awry. There was no doubt in Rosemarie’s mind that it was a dangerous emotion, best avoided. Men were not to be trusted, for the good ones died when you needed them and the rest… the rest would use you for their own ends. In her eyes, Everett had become the very thing he had set out to revenge, but she would not allow him to destroy her and leave her broken.

She would find a way forward for herself and her mother and get them to safety. No matter who she had to use, or what lies she had to tell.

Chapter 7

Dear Mr Barry,

Please forgive me for writing to you in such a bold manner. If my brother finds out, I dread to think what he will do, but you told me once that you owed me a debt for tending to you when you were so grievously injured, that you would help me if I wished to escape the circumstances I found myself in. I was far too afraid to do so before, but now I am afraid what will happen if I do not.

Help me, sir, I beg you. I do not know where else to turn. I will wait in the gardens of St Paul’s Church in Covent Garden on Friday at midday. Please, do not fail me.

Marie

―Excerpt of a letter from Marie) to Mr Thomas Barry – AKA The Lord Thomas ‘Thorn’ Barrington (son of The Most Hon’ble Lucian and Matilda Barrington, The Marquess and Marchioness of Montagu).

18thAugust 1845. Trevick Castle, Trevick, Warwickshire.

Violetta gaped in astonishment as she walked into the breakfast parlour the next day to discover Leo already at the table with a kitten sitting on his shoulder. He was feeding it scraps of bacon and the creature’s stentorian purr could be heard from the other side of the room.

It was not the prettiest kitten she had ever seen, either. A patchy coat of black and brown splotches was complimented by the largest ears Vi had ever seen on a feline, one of which had been recently torn. Its tail was also far too long, comically so for its tiny frame, and it had draped this oversized appendage about Leo’s neck.

“Ah, I see you have company,” she said, recovering from her surprise and seating herself at the table.

Leo grinned at her and nodded. “We made friends at the stables yesterday. Mau, this is Violetta, Vi, this is Mau.”

“Mau?” Vi repeated, wrinkling her nose.

Leo nodded seriously. “Yes, you know, the Egyptian cat god. The personification of the sun god, wasn’t it?”

Vi sighed and accepted a portion of scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes from a footman. “I bow to your greater knowledge of such subjects, Leo. Isn’t it a rather grand name for a somewhat unprepossessing article?” she added with just the slightest twitch of her lips, before pouring herself a cup of tea.

Leo scowled and covered Mau’s ears with his hands. “Don’t listen, Mau. She’s just jealous.”

“Well, jealousy aside, if I find dead mice littered about my parlour, it will be you I vent my wrath on,” she said sweetly.

“Ah, Vi, such promises you make me,” Leo said, smirking at her.

Fighting a blush, despite knowing he said such things purposely to fluster her, Vi ignored him—usually the safest course of action with Leo—and returned to her breakfast. Despite the certainty that Leo was studying her, he did not dare look up again until Thorn strode in.

“Morning, Vi, Leo. Goodness, Violetta, you’re looking very fine this morning. What a lovely gown. Is it new?”

Vi beamed at him. She was not in the least vain, but she appreciated a compliment, and the gown was one she’d been exceptionally pleased with. It was especially gratifying that Thorn should comment on it when Leo had failed to do so. “It is, Thorn, thank you so much. I fell in love with the colour and could not resist. How kind of you to remark upon it. You’re such a gentleman.”

“Couldn’t help but do so, it’s very becoming,” Thorn said, sitting down and piling his plate high with the sausages and eggs the footman offered him. He looked up and was met with a stony glare from Leo. “What?”

“Toady,” Leo remarked irritably.

“Ignore him,” Vi recommended. “He’s just annoyed you’ve shown him up for having no social graces. Have you met Mau?”

Thorn’s eyebrows rose as the kitten peered from around Leo’s head to stare at him. It did have very expressive eyes, vibrant yellow and bright with intelligence.

“Er… How do, Mau. Caught any nice rats recently?”