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“I’d say so,” Mary retorted, rushing to my window and closing it. She turned to me, eyeing the room and my bed for a moment. “Has someone been in here?”
“What! Mary! No!” I felt myself flush, grabbing my robe from the bed and wrapping myself in it. Mary huffed, readying my maroon Christmas Eve gown for the day. As I tucked my disheveled hair behind my ear, I noticed the blood stain on the sheets and cursed silently. Would she know? I pulled the sheets and blanket up over the stain, hopeful if I made my bed she would not touch it and I could dispose of the evidence before she could see.
“Rosemary, please, why are you making your bed?” Mary demanded, coming to my side.
“A gift, Mary, for all your hard work,” I lied, smiling. She softened to me, stroking the curl of my hair.
“You are a gift to us all, my dear,” she said lovingly. A caustic feeling churned in my gut at her words, despite my forced smile. If she knew what lay beneath the covers, she surely would not feel the same. I cleared my throat, fighting the tears that threatened to escape.
“Shall we?” I asked, walking over to the vanity. Mary helped me into my dress and sent me to eat breakfast in the library. I kept an eye on my room, fearful she’d follow her suspicions and search my bed.
My parents arrived after tea. Mary had prepared them a hardy feast in the dining room and despite having eaten earlier, I joined them. The morning was gray, the light barely filtering into the room from the opened curtains. Candelabras had been lit in the center of the table to illuminate what they could in the dreary morning. A sort of cold accompanied the air, the scent of bacon filtering in from the kitchen.
I cringed as I sat down across from my mother, a tenderness between my thighs evidence of what transpired with William the night before. I wasn’t in the room with them anymore, my mind trailed far off to what he’d felt like inside of me, the way he had lost himself in me. Heat crept into my cheeks, Mary poured a cup of tea, setting it in front of me with a raised eyebrow. I cleared my throat.
Mother set her napkin on her lap, eyeing me as she began to eat.
“I saw you dancing with David Quinn last night, dear,” she mused. Father picked at his eggs.
“Yes, Mr. Quinn was quite adamant, and his aunt only pushed the matter further.” I sipped my tea, the earthy warmth grounding me, pulling my mind away from William’s tongue.
“I did not see you and William dance, I thought for sure the two of you would be the hit of the ball. As a matter of fact, I did not see you at dinner, either.”
“I retired early, Mr. Quinn made a fool of the both of us and it exhausted me to be there.” I stirred another sugar into my cup. Mother set down her fork, Father was wholly unaware of our conversation.
“They say William was absent much the night as well.”
I met her gaze, fire burned behind her blue eyes.
“What are you suggesting, Mother?” I asked, anger building within me at her implications, damn them even if they were true.
“I am suggesting the entire county thinks you have already bed him and if you want to save any semblance of your reputation, you’d make good to let him know that the two of you disappearing in the midst of a party does little good to stifle those rumors.”
“That’s enough, I am trying to enjoy my breakfast. Damn the county, damn reputation, damn the McCloudes, damn that boy and his fortune! Let me eat in peace without your incessant gossip for once, woman!” Father snapped. Mother and I recoiled from his harsh words, from a voice we had never heard used by him. He began to eat again, slowly at first while Mother, tears streaming down her face, left the dining room.
After Father finished his breakfast in silence, he locked himself in the study with a bottle of brandy. Mother had enclosed herself in her bedroom and it seemed it would be a usual Christmas after all. I retired to the library in an attempt to read a novel,anynovel.
I had not gotten very far, my mind wandering to the night before and the realization that William was late. The grandfather clock in the entryway downstairs struck noon, droning his baritone notes through the quiet house. I set my book down, exhaling loudly as I kicked my feet onto the couch.
Had our absence been so obvious last night? I peered across the room, out the window to the gray afternoon clouds. Playing aimlessly with the ring on my finger, it struck me that no one had yet to notice it. They all really were so out of touch. Did they only notice what they wanted to, was I of so little interest to them now? I can’t say I would be too surprised or hurt by the matter. So much had changed since Adam died, and if I married William, I could escape their bleakness…
Michael stepped into the library clearing his throat. I sat up, smiling softly to greet him. He had been so busy since Samuel’s death, doubling up on work as much as he could, it showed. He looked exhausted.
“Mr. Blackwell has arrived. Shall I send him in?” he asked.
“Yes, please, Michael!” I jumped up to smooth my skirts and fix my hair as he turned the corner to leave. William walked in not a moment later, debonair as usual in a deep navy suit. His coppery hair was combed back, and the smirk on his lips was sinful.
“Happy Christmas Eve, my darling,” he said, long legs making quick work of the space between us to embrace me. I kissed him gently, breathing in his wintery, citrusy scent. “Where are your parents.?” His knuckles stroked my cheek gently.
“Partaking in their usual Christmas Eve traditions. Father was quite nasty at breakfast this morning and Mother has locked herself up in her room.” I felt my blood heat under his touch, reminding me of the way his body had been pressed so tightly to mine without layers of clothes in between. Wistful, I started walking about the room aimlessly looking at books, willing my blood to cool.
“Is it like this every year?” William stepped into one of the stacks, pulling a thick green tome from the shelf.
“I suppose so, more in recent years. This morning, Mother said that we did not help my reputation any by sneaking off last night, and Father snapped about her ‘incessant’ gossiping,” I explained, leaning against a shelf.
“I see,” William’s brow furrowed, and he looked up from the green tome to meet my eyes. His gaze was intense, he gracefully closed the distance at such a speed I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it. William wrapped an arm around my waist, one hand gripping a shelf above my head as he pressed my back into the stack.
“Does it bother you? What we did last night?” he asked, his voice silken, mouth brushing my lips. I arched into him, my breasts already heavy with need as his chest met mine.
