It was going to break loose any minute, just come straight out and plop in a heap onto the stairs. My vision blurred.
“If I must,” she said. “Spinsterhood was preferable to marrying a pirate.”
“But I’m a pirate.” I hissed.
“Rosamund,” she said in her tone that was exactly like her mother when she found Oscar and me raiding the cookie cabinet in the middle of the night.
Somehow, likely divine intervention, we made it down the steps, but my feet planted themselves firmly into the plush blue carpet beneath my feet. My legs weighed one hundred stone each, and I was incapable of comprehensible movement.
“A pleasure to meet you officially, Mr. Smith.” My father's voice boomed from the dining room.
Oh no. It was happening. This wasn’t some nightmare.
“I swear there is no one else as dramatic as you, Rosamund Beatrice Bailey,” Ruby said as she rounded in front of me.
Her face was blurry and discombobulated. Hardly a face at all.
She pinched my cheeks and fretted with the star necklace around my neck, followed by straightening the deep blue dress I wore that was currently strangling my midsection.
What was breathing again?
Ruby reached around and slapped her hand on my back hard, and I let out a desperate plea for air.
“A pleasure to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me into your home.” Bash’s voice.
That was Bash’s voice, but this was Bailey house in London. Those two things did not in any way, shape, or form go together.
Sighing, Ruby whispered into my ear, “If you don’t go right now, I will let Oscar bring up your first riding lessons.”
They were the only words that could have moved me. In a monumental gesture of goodwill, Ruby made Oscar promise not to bring up riding lessons. I was not about to lose that small boon.
Our dining room was modest by London society standards. Large enough to seat twenty, but not so large that there was much standing room. Which was probably why my family gathered at the far east while Bash stood with his back to me.
How strange to see a gentleman’s coat on him? There was no mistaking his build for anyone other than Sebastian Flynn. After all, just this morning I’d woken up entangled in him– nope, not helpful, Rose.
“Ah, there you are, Rose. We thought you weren’t coming,” my mother chirped.
I was aware of nothing except Bash turning to face me, his clean-shaven face erupting in an earth-shattering smile as he took me in. His hair was done back into a small bun that he refused to part with, English society be damned. Gods, he was devastating in his black coat and white shirt beneath. I was now certain my heart had finally made it through my chest because it stopped beating altogether.
“Rosamund,” he said.
“Mmhm,” I said, licking my lips.
He chuckled and held his hand out to me, which I took on pure muscle memory. There were no conscious thoughts inside my mind. I was entirely made up of gelatin.
“You look beautiful,” he said, raising my hand to his lips.
“Yes,” I whispered.
His eyes flashed with mirth as he lowered my hand and squeezed it, once, twice, three times. Just us. It was just us, and nothing else mattered.
“Why does she look like that?” My brother Richard asked.
“Why did she say yes to him, saying she looked beautiful?” Ramona asked.
“It’s not what she should have said. She should have thanked him.” Rebecca said.
“Hush,” Mother corrected.
