This time, Dory took Rose’s hand and pulled her to the closest piece of furniture, which happened to be a chair behind a large desk. “Sit. You must tell me. Maybe it wasn’t as horrible as you imagine it.”
Rose slumped into the chair. “Oh, it was. You see, I felt bad for Lady Garmoyle, who had recently lost her husband. She was quite nice to me, so I invited her to spend the holidays.”
“That doesn’t sound horrible. That was very kind of you.”
“Yes, but as it happened, she didn’t want to spend the holidays with me. She just wanted to have access to my brother and Lord Sommerset to seek her revenge.”
Now, that was much more concerning. Not having anywhere to sit, she leveraged herself up on the desk to listen. “What was the revenge for? Did she succeed?”
“Almost.” Rose looked toward the fireplace that was across the room. “I wasn’t quite sure how she’d been insulted, but from what I gathered, she’d tried to trap Lord Sommerset into marriage by luring him into the garden alone. But since neither he nor my brother trusted her, my brother secretly strolled through the garden with the lady’s mother. When Lady Garmoyle tried to claim Lord Sommerset had taken liberties, Felton and the lady’s mother were witnesses to the lack of such actions. So despite having later married someone else, she was still angry that she’d been foiled.”
Why a person would go to such lengths for revenge after being married and widowed was far beyond her comprehension. “So based on what your mother stated, the widow thought she was alone with your brother?”
Rose’s head snapped around to look at her. “Oh, no. It was much worse. She thought she had succeeded in maneuvering my brother to be alone in this very library with Lady Sommerset! Of course, she was Lady Ameila last year and would have been forced to marry my brother.”
Knowing a bit about both the lady and Lord Harewood, Dory’s belly tightened into a ball no faerie could puncture. Did Lord Sommerset call his good friend out? “Please, tell me quickly. What happened?”
Rose gave her a questioning look before she continued. “As it happened, unbeknownst to Lady Garmoyle, Lady Sommerset’s father had secreted himself away in the library and was sitting in that chair right there.” Rose pointed to one of two wingbackchairs that faced the fireplace so their backs were toward the doorway to the corridor.
That the earl had indeed not been forced to lose his only friend for even a short while was reassuring. “I imagine your brother was quite relieved.”
Rose shrugged. “He had not been worried, as he’d noticed Lord Wakefield immediately because Lady Amelia had been talking to her father when my brother had entered.Iwas the one who felt horrible. Yet, as Lady Garmoyle protested, I still believed her. I fear I was so desperate to have a friend who liked my company that I did not question her motives.”
“I quite enjoy your company, as you are so easy to converse with and have such a warm spirit.” Dory laid her hand over her heart. “And I promise you, Rose, I have no such motive of revenge against your brother.”
Rose’s lips twitched. “Well, at least one of us doesn’t.”
Surprised, she widened her eyes. “What has he done to you?”
Rose sat up in the chair, her grin quite real. “What hasn’t he? He’s teased me my whole life. He wins every debate because he is far too smart and I can’t keep up.” Her smile turned to a smirk and she wiggled her brow. “I have managed my own revenge over the years. Once I discovered that the unexpected unbalanced him, I have done everything from spilled gravy on his clothes to put thorns beneath his sheets.”
“You didn’t.” She was quite shocked. She’d never had such a relationship with her older brother. “What did he do?”
A soft look came into Rose’s eyes. “Nothing. Oh, he grumbled to me and swore retribution, but he never followed through. And when our mother asked how his face got scratched or why his pantaloons were wet, he made an excuse, never revealing the truth.”
Dory’s heart warmed at the obvious implication. He loved and protected his sister. There was a kind and sweet personsomewhere beneath the Earl of Harewood’s boring and stiff exterior, which made her even more curious as to why he had such a hard shell. He was like a macaron that was hard on the outside and soft in the middle. She did so enjoy those. Which reminded her of Rose’s suggestion. “Did you not say that your cook made baked apple pudding today?”
Rose jumped from the chair, her good humor restored. “I did, and we must have some. I like to have cocoa with mine.”
“I’ve never had cocoa with them. I usually have tea.”
Rose headed for the library doors. “Well, do be quick. I’ll have Haggett send everything to your room and we can enjoy them without the rest of my family.”
She hopped down from the desk and strode out after Rose, but she had already disappeared. Quickly ascending the stairs, Dory found her thoughts straying back to Lord Harewood. His fury had been palpable, but it hadn’t been directed at her and for that, she was thankful. Though he’d been irritated with her, his feelings toward his mother were difficult to explain, but if she were the marchioness, she’d duck and run because the image of Lord Harewood that came to her mind was that of a well-loaded cannon.
Chapter Nine
Felton stood onthe terrace outside the library, refusing to partake in the niceties of welcoming guests to his home, or rather, his parents’ home. He had his own, not far from Sunnydale. Was he punishing his mother? Yes. Should he? That was a moot question. Her attack upon Lady Dorothea, whom he was quite positive had never even contemplated being so devious as to trap a man into marriage, had infuriated him. That his mother assumed he couldn’t master his own affairs on top of it had caused a rift in his feelings for his parent that he wasn’t sure would ever be bridged.
It was not that his mother was a mean person by nature, but her overzealous need for societal approval would sometimes make her forget that at her core, she was a good woman. Rose was like her, but Rose simply handled society differently by playing the role. It saddened him because he wished her a man who could look beneath the surface she presented to society and treasure her for the warm, good-hearted person she was.
There was only one woman he’d ever known who had been able to be warm and caring while at the same time be what society expected, even though she’d never debuted. He’d fallen in love with Belinda as a young boy and by the age of sixteen, couldn’t refrain from kissing her. He smiled softly as he thought back to that afternoon when they were in the village at a traveling fair. They had walked behind the puppeteer show tosee how it was done and were disappointed to find a wall between them and their answer. Noticing they were alone, he couldn’t help but kiss her.
He’d received a well-deserved slap for his trouble. But even as she ran off in a huff, he’d been quite proud of himself, though explaining his red cheek to his mother had been a bit difficult.
The sound of the French doors opening behind him had him stiffening even as he scowled that someone would search him out when he obviously didn’t wish to be found.
“Ah, so here you are. Hiding.”
