Her eyes widening, she said, “I cannot imagine why I would be.”
James regarded her for a moment before he sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you can.”
“What did you mean when you said I had the reputation of a rose?” she asked.
Dipping his head a moment, he seemed to struggle with how to respond. “Every rose has its thorns, and yours have become rather barbed these past few years.”
“What?”
“You are your mother’s only daughter, but you are my third and, unfortunately, you are the most spoiled.” He watched as her eyes rounded and her mouth dropped open in shock. “There isn’t a man in all of London who wishes to wed a spoiled rotten woman,” he claimed. “They want someone they can spoil.”
Rose looked as if she was about to burst into tears once again as he stood. He leaned over to kiss her on the top of her head. “I will see you at dinner, daughter. You’ll want to get a good night’s sleep tonight. Tomorrow will be a long day, with lots of dancing,” he added. “And champagne.” He gave a nod and then took his leave of her bedchamber.
Rose watched him go, all the while wondering how it was she could feel so heartened that he had spent so much time with her, be so shocked by his assessment of her, and then feel such relief upon his departure.
