She whacked the exposed shelf of mud. “Before we continue working together in any capacity, I want to make one thing clear.”
“Yes?” Sinclair asked as both tension and relief swirled through him.
“I cannot abide jealousy, if your reaction had anything to do with that. Percy is my friend, a good friend.”
“My reaction to him had very little to do with that emotion,” Sinclair promised. “And Astrid has made it exceedingly clear that I was being an overprotective arse.”
Rose’s lips twitched slightly on the last. “Astrid is very insightful.”
Sinclair laughed as some of the pressure inside him lifted. “Aye. I won’t argue with her on this observation.”
“I suppose we should get back to work. I don’t want it bandied about that the laird doesn’t pull her own weight,” Rose said with her old humor.
“I don’t think anyone will accuse her of that.” Sinclair couldn’t stop the fondness that crept into his voice. Rose lifted her chin, and their gazes met. A connection shimmered between them still—he hadn’t severed it completely after all. Weakened it?Aye.But destroyed it entirely?Nay.
“Rose Mae Van Etten!” a woman’s horrified voice called out. “What in heaven’s name are you doing in that ditch? You look a fright!”
Sinclair turned to find a man and a woman sitting in the back of Rose’s touring car with a smartly dressed chauffeur in front. Sinclair had been so focused on his conversation with Rose that he hadn’t heard the vehicle’s approach. The female visitor wore a tight-fitting velvet hat with a brooch and a single feather pinned to it. Her mink-fur coat looked even more luxurious than the ones Rose wore. The man in a wool overcoat beside her stayed mostly hidden from view, his face partially obscured by an open newspaper.
“Mother?” Rose shielded her eyes. “Whatever are you doing here?”
Sinclair nearly dropped his tusker on his foot. He’d been bracing himself to reveal his past with his mother and the earl, but he hadn’t been girding himself to meetherparents.
The horror on Mrs.Van Etten’s delicately boned face did not diminish. “You have been rusticating too long, and I’m worried about the rumors I’m hearing that you intend to open a hotel on this godforsaken isle. It is bad enough you’re holding a race here. You have social obligations back in civilization now that the dreadful war is over. And I see that I had every right to be worried. A true lady should always look her best. Living on a desert island is no reason to ... to ...” The woman waved her hand wordlessly in the direction of Rose’s mud-soaked skirt.
Sinclair stiffened. The woman trilled the words brightly, but that didn’t make them less of a public dressing-down. He wanted to defend Rose, but he simply did not know how. If he tried speaking, it would inevitably make matters worse.
To his surprise, Rose seemed entirely unperturbed. Instead, she laughed, not bitterly but with true amusement.
“Mother, dear, it is hardly a desert island. And I think the mud is rather becoming. Don’t you?” Rose spun gaily around in the trench.
“Rose, stop that this minute! You must hurry back to the house and change before anyone recognizes you.”
Rose stopped her dancing, but she made no move to lay down her shovel. “I gave my word, Mother, that I’d help for the day.”
“Mr.Van Etten!” Her mother turned frantically to the gentleman, who hadn’t looked up from his periodical during the entire conversation. “Mr.Van Etten!”
When the man still did not react, Mrs.Van Etten shook his arm. Blinking owlishly, he slowly pivoted toward his wife. He gave his head a quick little jerk. “Yes, my dear Mrs.Van Etten?”
Rose’s parents still referred to each other by their surnames, not their Christian ones? That felt terribly cold. Even his crotchety stepda had not only called Sinclair’s mum by her first name but had even used a few pet ones.
“Your daughter is digging in the mud!” Rose’s mother clutched her husband’s arm so hard that his coat bunched up.
Mr.Van Etten peered around his wife. “So she is.”
“Please tell her to stop. You know the Duke of Newsberry is on the island.”
Mr.Van Etten sighed and leaned over his wife. “Rose, dear, would you please stop causing your mother to fret? You know how easily overset she can become.”
“I made a commitment, Daddy.” Rose flashed a winsome smile.
Her father nodded absently and turned toward his wife. “Evidently, she’s obligated.”
“But the duke—” Mrs.Van Etten began to protest, but her husband interrupted.
“Rose, does this future hotel of yours have a telephone?” The industrialist’s thin mustache twitched impatiently.
“I’m afraid not, Daddy.”
