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Rose reeled back in fright, hugging her arms tight about herself at the livid tone of his voice and the anger in his eyes. She wished the laughter would come back, for she had seen enough rage from her father to last her a lifetime. That was what she hoped to escape. She did not wish to step from one inferno into another.
Lord Bentley merely smiled. “You see? He would even curse in front of a lady.”
Lord Langston’s mouth gaped in surprise, as though he had only just realized what he had done. Slowly, he retreated back into the corner of the carriage and dipped his head in a hesitant nod. “I apologize, Miss Parker. It appears I am the one who forgot myself. I am not the sort of gentleman who would curse in front of a… lady.” He side-eyed Lord Bentley. “And I apologize to you for calling you such a slur. It has been a trying evening.”
“All is forgiven.” Lord Bentley beamed. “Now, Miss Parker, perhaps you may tell us of how you have survived for so long since your father turned to revelry instead of fatherhood?” He sat back against the squabs, his eyes intent on Rose.
What sparked such a reaction in him?She glanced at Lord Langston to find him staring back at her with a baffling expression upon his face: a blend of apology, confusion, and a touch of sadness. Both turned away at the same time, Rose’s face warming up with embarrassment at being caught.
Still, she knew she would wonder what had initiated such a response for many hours to come, if not days. Was it humiliation? Perhaps. Had he felt as though he were being disrespected? She knew men cared greatly for their sense of personal honor. That seemed the most likely, to her, but at least there had been swift forgiveness. Otherwise, the rest of this journey might seem interminable.
She focused on Lord Bentley. “I have worked to pay the rents, and my father indulged himself in his destructive pastimes. First, I attempted to sell flowers on the streets, but the other girls could sense my residual softness from my formerly comfortable life. They beat me, and I gave up that employ when the cost of medicine to treat my injuries became too great. Afterward, I gained my occupation as a seamstress at a sewing house, where I have toiled ever since I was ten-and-three, so… eight years.”
“Fascinating,” Lord Bentley cooed. “One would not think you had endured so much. There is barely a flaw upon that smooth skin of yours, save a freckle or ten.”
“My mother called them constellations of the flesh.” Rose had never been ashamed of her freckles, though high society deemed them abhorrent. Freckle-free, blemish-free skin was a symbol of impeccable status, where one did not need to go out in the sun to earn money to survive. Rose wore them as a badge of honor.
Lord Langston met her gaze once more. “I have never heard that.” She could not decipher his tone, but he spoke more softly than he had done before. An intrigue in his words, perhaps?
“Upon her death bed, she said it was how she would find me from the Kingdom of Heaven, just as we look up to the sky at night to find the stars.” Rose heard the gentle choke in her voice. “I would not be without them, or she might not be able to see me from where she is.”
“Goodness, that has moved me to tears.” Lord Bentley flicked his forefinger beneath the socket of his right eye. But Lord Langston simply continued to stare at her, a glisten of moisture welling behind the lower lids of his eyes. And in those eyes, an unmistakable sadness, whose language she spoke keenly: grief.
Who have you lost, My Lord? Who do you look for when you turn your face to the night’s sky? Who do you hope is looking for you, too? How many?
If she had dared to look more closely, she might have seen the ghosts shining in his emerald irises. The wisps of lost souls, and forbidden love, that had made it impossible to laugh or smile with ease. For who could laugh or smile when their heart had been hollowed out to nothing?
