“I think you deserve every happiness, dearest. And the truth is… I’ve been thinking that I need a place of my own.”
The idea had been percolating for the last week. As cordial as Polly and the earl had been, there was no denying the awkwardness of living with newlyweds; Rosie felt like a fifth wheel. She also didn’t want to return to her parents’ house. Not just because of the rift with her mother—which she was gathering the courage to address—but because she was beginning to see the truth: that was no longer her home.
She wasn’t the innocent girl she’d once been. She was a widow, and as brief as her marriage had been, it had changed everything. She was now the Countess of Daltry, and she had to use that hard-earned status to carve out a future for herself.
“You can stay here as long as you want,” Polly insisted.
“I know that, dear. I also know that I cannot live in limbo forever.” Rosie bit her lip. “I’ve bungled things up so badly—with the elopement and my reckless behavior before that. I can’t change the past, but I can take responsibility for my future. I’m an independent woman now; it’s time I started to act like one.”
“But moving into your own place?” Polly’s eyes were wide. “Won’t you be lonely?”
“Solitude might do me good. Once the mourning period is over, I’ll have social activities to keep me busy—especially if I can convince Daltry’s aunts to sponsor me.” At the reading of the will tomorrow, she would start her campaign to win the approval of Mrs. James and Lady Charlotte.
Polly’s brow furrowed. “But where would you live? And how would you afford it?”
So there were a few details Rosie hadn’t ironed out yet.
“I haven’t the faintest how much a lease would cost,” she admitted. “Do you know?”
Polly shook her head. “I could ask Sinjin. I’m sure he would know.”
“I wouldn’t need anything extravagant: a small cottage would do. I have my allowance from Mama and Papa. If they forbid my plans, then I… I’ll simply sell my jewelry and gowns,” Rosie said determinedly. “If I must, I’ll find a way to finance my future.”
“I doubt such drastic measures will be necessary.” Her sister’s voice was dry. “And speaking of your future, I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
Polly helped Rosie out of her stained dress and into a robe. “What about Mr. Corbett?”
Since returning from Gretna, Rosie had told Polly about all her interactions with Andrew—with the exception of her last visit. As much as she loved Polly, some things were just too difficult to share. Asking a gentleman to rid one of one’s virginity topped the list.
“What about him?” she said cautiously.
Polly tugged her over to the bed, where they sat side by side. “Given what has transpired between the two of you, I wondered if he would be a part of your future plans.”
Longing beat its wings… which were clipped by hurt as she recalled his refusal to marry her. She understood now why he’d rebuffed her—and why, even during his more recent possessive (and rather thrilling) rhetoric, he had not once mentioned marriage. But just because she understood his reasoning didn’t mean that she was eager to expose herself to more pain.
He was right: marriagewasn’tpossible between them. He couldn’t give her respectability, and, if she were perfectly honest, she wasn’t so certain whatshehad to offerhim. With his looks and wealth, he would have no shortage of females willing to share his bed or his life. What was so special about her: an inexperienced semi-virgin who’d brought him naught but trouble?
Why pursue something that can’t have a happy ending? Why open myself to torment?
“He can’t be part of my future,” she said dully.
“Why not?”
“He’s a brothel owner so I can’t marry him. And he’s too good for me, anyway.”
Polly blinked. “I think you’ll have to explain.”
Leaving out the fact that she’d asked Andrew to deflower her, Rosie confessed her visit to him—and her discovery of what he’d done on her behalf.
“Oh my goodness,” Polly breathed when she was done. “If you don’t marry him, I will!”
“Better not let your husband hear you say that.” Rosie was only half-joking; the earl was more than a little possessive when it came to his bride.
“Why, Mr. Corbett is your knight-errant,” Polly said, her eyes dreamy. “He’s protected you all this time without your knowledge. And buyingThe Prattler? I cannot think of a more gallant andromanticgesture.”
Her defenses crumbling, Rosie reinforced them by slapping on the plaster of common sense. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t get involved with him. Not now, when I finally have what I want.”
