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Mother cocked her head. “Rosalind?” Her expression softened. She leaned forward and took Rosalind’s hand, worry etched in her features. “Dearest, is that what worries you? Is this about your father? I should not have said—Torrington is a great deal younger than Richardson was when I married him.”
Rosalind jerked her hand from her mother’s. “Enough, Mother,” she choked. “You’ve made your point.”
“Torrington is a brilliant match for you.” Her mother sat back against the cushions, watching her carefully. “I doubt he would deny you anything. Even your partnership with that baker, if you are discreet.”
“You don’t know that.”
Her mother gave a deep sigh, clearly frustrated by their conversation. “He allowed you to lick custard off his fingers, Rosalind. I’m fairly certain he’ll allow you to keep baking tarts.”
Rosalind’s eyes widened in absolute horror. She couldn’t even find the words to refute her mother’s claim.
“Jacobson,” Mother said, standing and brushing a stray crumb off her skirt, “cannot keep a secret frommeto save his life. Eventually, he tells me everything. Sometimes it takes a great number of threats on my part, but this time he was motivated by genuine concern for your reputation. The rest of the staff will be unable to keep from gossiping about you entertaining the Earl of Torrington in the dining room. It is only luck the news of Torrington and your custard-making abilities isn’t already making the rounds. Good lord, you’re as bad as your cousins.”
Rosalind looked out the window to the garden where the rotted branches of the maple tree still hovered over the stone bench. She’d forgotten Torrington’s suggestion to have the gardener cut them off. Forgotten everything, even the damned recipes, because of him. There was a small bit of joy struggling to fill her heart at the knowledge that Torrington wanted her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she said to her mother. “That Torrington had offered for me? He told me at Granby’s house party he wasn’t looking for a wife. I believed him.”
“Perhaps at the time, it wasn’t a lie. His heir didn’t expire until shortly before the Ralston ball. He and his solicitor called on me the day after Theodosia ruined herself at Blythe’s. You were out, taking one of your manywalks.” Mother raised a brow. “One of Torrington’s requirements was that you not be told he’d offered for you and that I make no formal announcement of your betrothal until what he deemed the appropriate time. I’m relieved to no longer carry on this charade. The worry that he would retract his offer has led to many sleepless nights.”
Mother’s inability to sleep was the least of Rosalind’s concerns. “Perhaps you should try some chamomile tea,” she snapped back. “What I want to know is why? Why didn’t he want you to tell me?”
“Only Lord Torrington knows the reason. You’ll have to ask him yourself if you wish to know.” Her mother headed to the door.
Rosalind felt a push of anger toward Torrington.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I plan to.”
