"I am trying to protect her," he said finally. "From myself. From what I might become."
"And in doing so, you are hurting her more deeply than you ever could by loving her." Rosanne stepped back, her expression shifting to something harder. "I received a letter this morning. From Lady Smith. She has moved her house gathering forward—it begins in three days, and I am expected to arrive tomorrow."
The change of subject was jarring. Daniel turned to face her, frowning. "Tomorrow? That is hardly sufficient notice."
"Lady Smith cares little for sufficient notice. She has found a potential match for me, apparently, Lord Blackwood's son, and she wishes to expedite the introduction." Rosanne's lip curled slightly. "I am to be paraded before him like a prize mare at auction."
"I will write to her. Explain that the timing is impossible."
"No." Rosanne shook her head. "I have avoided her gatherings for too long. If I refuse again, she will make trouble—for me, and for you. Her influence in society is considerable."
"I do not care about her influence."
"But I do. Or rather, I care about not giving her ammunition to use against us." Rosanne straightened her shoulders, and Daniel saw something of his own stubborn determination in her expression. "I will go. But I will not go alone."
"I will accompany you, if you wish."
"Not you. Lillian."
Daniel went very still.
"She has already agreed," Rosanne continued. "Or she will, when I ask her. She is my friend, Daniel, regardless of what has passed between the two of you. And I need her support if I am to survive Lady Smith's machinations."
"Rosanne, I do not think..."
"I do not care what you think." Her voice was flat, final. "You have forfeited the right to an opinion on any matter concerning Lillian. You pushed her away, and now you must live with the consequences—which include watching her leave to attend a house gathering full of eligible gentlemen who will not be too cowardly to appreciate her worth."
The words landed like blows. Daniel felt himself flinch, felt the jealousy he had no right to feel rising in his chest.
"Rosanne..."
"I am going to write to Lillian now and ask her to join me. You may return to your study and your solitude and your precious self-protection." She turned toward the door, then paused on the threshold. "But know this, Daniel: if you lose her, if you let your fear cost you the one person who has ever truly seen you, you will regret it for the rest of your life. And I will not let you forget it."
She swept out, and Daniel was left alone in the morning room, surrounded by the ghost of Lillian's presence and the weight of his own impossible choices.
***
The morning of Rosanne's departure dawned grey and cold.
Lillian had agreed to accompany her, of course. How could she refuse? Rosanne was her friend—perhaps her only true friend—and the girl was terrified of facing Lady Smith's gathering alone. Whatever had passed between Lillian and Daniel, it did not change her affection for his sister.
She had packed her modest trunk the night before, selecting gowns that were respectable if not fashionable, choosing accessories that would not shame her in elevated company. Her mother had helped, offering advice about social navigation and gentle reassurances that Lillian did not entirely believe.
"You will be wonderful," Mrs. Whitcombe had said, pressing her hand. "Whatever happens at this party, whoever you meet, remember that you are worth knowing, Lillian. Any man would be fortunate to win your regard."
Any man. The words echoed hollowly. There was only one man whose regard Lillian wanted, and he had made his feelings, or lack thereof, abundantly clear.
The carriage from Wynthorpe arrived promptly at eight. Lillian kissed her mother goodbye, received her father's blessing from his sickbed, and allowed herself to be handed into the vehicle where Rosanne was already waiting.
"Thank you for coming." Rosanne's voice was thick with relief. "I do not think I could have borne this alone."
"You would have managed. You are stronger than you know."
"Perhaps. But I am glad not to have to find out." Rosanne leaned back against the cushions as the carriage began to move. "Lady Smith's gatherings are notorious, you know. She fancies herself a matchmaker and takes great pleasure in throwing eligible young people together in compromising circumstances."
"Compromising circumstances?"
"Oh, nothing scandalous. Just engineered proximity. Private conversations in garden alcoves. Parlour games designed to reveal romantic inclinations. She considers it great sport." Rosanne's expression soured. "I am to be her latest project, apparently. Lord Blackwood's son has expressed interest, and she is determined to facilitate a match."
