Viola’s chin lifted in a haughty tilt. “About time,” she muttered, not quite under her breath.
The words hit Rose like a slap. She narrowed her gaze and forced her tone to remain even. “You must eat while it’s hot,” she said, her pulse beating in her ears. With a patience she didn’tknow she possessed, Rose waited while Viola bit into the scone. She poured the girl a bracing cup of tea and held out the cup.
“Oh, thank you.” Viola set the scone aside, accepted the cup, and brought it to her nose. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell, then sipped. After drinking half the cup, she looked at Rose. “Are you staying here as well, Lady Stanford?”
“No, dear. I must return home.”
Viola’s shoulders fell. “Oh.” She lifted the scone again and took another delicate bite. “This is quite delicious. I wonder who their cook is?”
“I believe everyone chips in to do her part,” Rose said mildly.
The next bite paused inches from her mouth. “But…that’s the cook’s duty.”
Rose inhaled deeply, wondering how her own sisters had ever put up with her self-serving interests for as long as she could remember. “Miss Lockhart, you have had a narrow escape. It was only by chance that I learned of your disappearance, and, I might add, at great peril to myself, risking my own life andruinin finding you. Hope House is not your aunt’s drawing room.”
Slowly, Viola lowered the scone to the plate. “Are you telling me I’m to be a…a servant?” Her statement ended on a high note short of a shrill.
That thin thread of Rose’s patience snapped. “Hope House is a place of refuge. A place for young women who have survived untold horrors, Miss Lockhart. Know this! You willnotspeak of the occupants of this house in such a manner.”
“But—”
Rose cut her off. “You are here to recover, not to reign. And if you cannot remember that, and treat these women with the respect and mercy they deserve, I will personally escort you back to Lady Lockhart this very night. Am I clear on this?”
Harsh red dots flagged Viola’s cheekbones, but there was fire in her eyes. She dropped her gaze quickly, veiling her disgust. “Yes, my lady,” she murmured.
“Then I shall bid you a good night.” With that, Rose stood and left the chamber, closing the door firmly behind her. Anger simmered through her, but she was oddly steadied by the fact that, for once, she’d said exactly what needed to be said.
After a quick farewell to Mrs. Kier, Rose retrieved her cloak and gloves and stepped out of the warmth of Hope House into the chilled night, only to find that her trials for the evening were far from over.
Twenty-Nine
Emerson dropped the reins and jumped to the ground. Lips pressed, jaw set, he took a step toward the door, ready to storm Hope House unapologetically. But the door opened, stopping him in his tracks.
The light behind her frame set her in a gentle black silhouette that was more akin to a moving picture.
Her head lifted, and she froze in the act of tugging on her gloves, becoming a still image etched in his mind for…ever.
He shook away the odd and unfamiliar notions as reality jarred. She was handing him the opening he needed. He sprang into action, striding to her before she shouted him down like a common fishwife to revive neighbors situated blocks away. He had every confidence in her fury and voice.
“Good evening, Lady Stanford. I’ve arrived with your pumpkin to escort you home.”
Her open mouth snapped shut, obviously having seen the wisdom in his decision. “My thanks.” This was delivered in a clipped tone without varying inflection, giving him no clue as to her feelings—but for the aura of anger encasing her like a shield.
Well, then. He had his answer. Snatching her arm none too gently, he led her to his high-flying phaeton and handed her up, then took his own seat. He snapped the reins and let the silence around them simmer, firing his own ire. “What thehellwere you thinking going to Whitefriars of all places? And in the middle of the night!” His explosion on her, albeit in a strangled calm he managed to forge, didn’t sit well. Obviously.
“I was thinking when I overheard that a young woman had been sold for nefarious reasons by her own aunt, she might be in desperate need of assistance.” She spoke through clenchedteeth, reflected in her tightened fists. It was a wonder she hadn’t clubbed him on the temple and knocked him to the ground.
To a well-deserved death.
And did he stop?That was beyond him. The thought of someone,anyone, harming this stubborn, reckless, caring woman had him wanting to strangle someone—her, at the moment.
“You couldn’t inform your brother? He’s a blasted duke.”
“He was on the dance floor with his wife. And before you ask, so was my brother-in-law with my sister. There was no waiting to be had.” Her voice shook with outrage.
His insides coiled, but he forced out a breath. “I thought you were bent on searching Peachornsby’s office.”
She was quiet for a time, then said, “That was my initial intention. But I slipped into the retiring room to await my opportunity…and, well—” One shoulder lifted, then dropped.
