Page 65 of The Thorn and the Rose

Thorn suspected the knowledge her daughter was to establish a marriage with one of Montagu’s sons had a good deal to do with this but said nothing. Not that he had asked Rosemarie to marry him yet, but they both knew he would. She needed time, though. For one thing, she refused to be seen in public until her hair had grown back.

“You’re certain there have been no rumours? Your father kept it all quiet?” she asked him, not for the first time. “For if anyone discovers I was in an asylum, the shame of it will taint your family too, and—”

“Hush,” he said softly. “We have everything in hand, I promise. Father is governor of the asylum now. They’ll not risk his wrath or mine by letting the story out. I believe I made an impression on Mr Ludlow,” he added with a smile.

“I wish I’d seen it,” Rosemarie said frankly. “Odious man.”

“He was,” Thorn agreed, and then turned to her. “Never be afraid to speak your mind to me, Marie. Even if I don’t agree with you, I’d much rather enjoy a frank discussion than have you agree just to keep me happy. And, for the record, you may have as many opinions as you like, and read as many books as you wish.”

“You’re like no man I ever met,” she said with a smile. “Not that I’ve met many, but Everett would get in a terrible rage if I contradicted him, and I never was good enough at holding my tongue, though I tried to. But you are so different, so… patient. Mama adores you, I hope you realise. She says you remind her of Papa.”

“Oh?” he said uncertainly.

She laughed and nodded. “In her eyes, he was the perfect man. It’s quite a compliment, I assure you. I wish I remembered him well enough to say, but he made Mama very happy, so he must have been kind, and gentle… and very patient.”

Thorn turned and looked over his shoulder, pleased to see they were out of sight of the mothers, and slipped his arm about her waist. “Do I make you happy, Marie?”

Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink and she nodded, lifting her face to his.

“Happier than I thought possible. I feel like I am living in a beautiful dream, but Thomas, we cannot stay here forever. We are not your family’s responsibility. Surely, we must return to Magpie Hall?”

“Under no circumstances,” Thorn said frankly.

She looked up at him, and he gave a rueful smile. “I don’t want you out of my sight, Marie. We never found a trace of this Scuttler you spoke of, and whilst your brother appears to have been merely goading me by pretending you were in his clutches, I would put nothing past him.”

“But Everett is still in gaol, and you said it would be five years at least before he’s got a chance of being released.”

“Nonetheless,” he said briskly, “you’re all happy here, aren’t you?”

She laughed at that, nodding. “Mama is in alt, and so is Mills. She’s never seen a kitchen as grand as the one here, nor had the chance to test her skills.”

“I’m glad,” he said, drawing her onto a path that led to a private little corner he had prepared earlier that morning.

She paused as she saw the blanket and cushions laid out on the ground.

“Oh.” Rosemarie glanced at him shyly, biting her lip, and then ran to the blanket and sat down, arranging the skirts of her pretty yellow gown around her.

Thorn stood gazing at her, wanting to imprint the vision before him upon his mind so he would never forget it. “You should always wear yellow,” he said, moving to join her. “When I first met you, I thought you were shrouded in sorrow, that you wore it like a heavy mantle, but now it’s gone, and whenever I look at you, I see sunshine.”

Rosemarie blinked rapidly, her eyes glittering. “That’s the loveliest thing anyone ever said to me.”

He smiled at that. “That’s because you never came out to society, something I am glad of, I'm afraid. Because I am horribly selfish, and I know you would have been besieged by admirers.”

Rosemarie shook her head sadly, her hand going to the frilly cap she wore over her hair. “I don’t think so.”

“Then you are a little fool,” he said fondly, and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. He waited for a moment before he spoke, knowing the subject made her uncomfortable. “Marie… I keep remembering those strange days in the cellar.”

Rosemarie blanched and turned her head away, shame in her eyes. “Thomas, please…”

“No, Marie, I want to talk about it.”

She turned back to him, meeting his eyes, chin up. “Yes, of course,” she said resolutely, though he heard the anxiety in her voice.

“I loved talking to you when you spent time with me, Marie, but… but was it you I was speaking with? You said your brother coached you and bullied you into being kind to me, but the things you said…”

“You wish to know if I was playing a part?”

Thorn nodded. Though it pained him to cause her distress, he needed to know the truth. She swallowed, considering her words.