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“What are dreams?” I asked.
“A fool’s pastime,” she recited.
“What is love?”
“A fairy tale meant for others.”
A single tear ran down her cheek, and I pulled her into my arms, giving her a tight hug and just holding her for a second to comfort her but also myself.
“I know it hurts, but it will hurt far less if you end this brief infatuation now. It will hurt so much more if you allow yourself to let it grow into love. Trust me, I know it hurts, but end it now.” I was lying to my sister.
I had no idea how it felt. I had never even let myself have a crush. What was the point?
“The best we can hope for is a good match with a man who eventually becomes a friend.”
“That’s not entirely true.” Rose sniffed, then ran her fingers under her eyes, wiping away any smeared makeup. “We could also wish for our husbands to die in mysterious circumstances young enough so we can still marry again, maybe not for love, but certainly for lust. I hear pool boys are the to-kill-for accessory for widows this season.”
Her dark sense of humor caught me off guard, and I stared at her for a moment before we both broke down in giggles.
Rose was on a roll. “You really are dressed like a femme fatale, ready to kill a man if he dares forget to open a door. Maybe you can save on the fee and be your own hit woman?”
We were both laughing when Sarah returned to inform us that Mr. Manwarring was downstairs waiting with his sisters to escort us to the opera.
“We will be down in a moment.” I moved back to the vanity to check my makeup.
Deciding my eyeliner wasn’t dramatic enough, I lengthened the wings until I really looked like a Bond girl trying to channel Loki. What was that Taylor Swift line? Eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man.
“Ready, Bitchy-Galore?”
“Alvays, dahling,” I said in a terrible accent as I slipped my shoes on and grabbed my purse.
I stopped for a moment. Watching Rose reapplying gloss, I noticed how she matched my room. Whereas I was suffocating under my mother’s thumb, my sister seemed to flourish under it. Or at least feign she was, better than I ever had.
I hoped she could forget her brief infatuation with this gardener before it could change all of that. If she dared stray not only before wedlock but with someone outside of our social circle, the horror my mother would rain down on her would be terrible. She would also go after the gardener, his family, and anyone else in the household she could. It would be intense.
Maybe by that time I could convince Mr. Manchild to let us have a spare room for Rose at our place, wherever that was going to be.
He wasn’t afraid of my mother.
If how he’d conducted himself at the cancelled wedding was any indication, he reveled in her indignation.
Maybe I could use that to provide my sister with a safe haven. Would she be safe under the same roof as him? Wealthy men did not have the same expectation of fidelity as women did. Could I keep her safe in my own home? I just wasn’t sure yet.
“Okay, let’s go. I don’t actually want to be late,” I said, not liking the direction my mind was taking.
“Yes, I can’t wait for the show,” Rose agreed, and then added, “The opera should be good, too.”
“What show do you mean?”
“Mother’s face when she sees you.” She gave me an angelic smile and ran out the door.
I was more worried about his reaction.
With a deep breath, I followed her.
I saw him immediately. The black tuxedo he wore was perfectly tailored to his lean body. Combined with a black shirt underneath and a red tie, the effect was mouthwatering and sinful.
Even if I would never say it out loud, especially within his earshot, I had to admit he was strikingly handsome.
