“I’ll be back in a moment, miss,” Sarah said as she left, tray rattling in her hands.
Renley sat with one leg crossed over the other, hat perched on his knee. By all accounts, it should be a relaxed position, but Rosalie felt the tension coiling in him. He wasn’t looking at her, rather he seemed to be studying the pattern of the wallpaper.
“You seem far away,” she said.
Flipping his hat over, he tossed his gloves inside, and set it next to the flowers. “Miss Harrow, I wonder if I might…you said we could be friends.”
She blinked. “Yes, I would be happy to call you my friend.”
He leaned back again. “You know about Marianne. Or at least, you know some of it.”
“I know only what you’ve told me.”
“Would it be terribly forward of me if I sought your advice? I don’t know the rules here,” he added with a shrug. “I’ve never considered a lady a friend before. But you make me feel so at ease, and I really fear I might be going mad.”
This had her leaning forward. He felt it too…whatever it was between them that felt so natural. He wanted her in his confidence, and she wanted to be there. “You may tell me anything. I will listen as a friend and do my best to offer advice.”
“I…I don’t want to offend you.”
She smiled, even as something inside her clenched tight. Heavens, what was he about to tell her? “I think you’ll find I’m made of stern stuff, Tom. Best to haul anchor and sail full speed ahead.”
They both grinned at her nautical reference, and his eye flashed at her use of his name.
“Marianne was my first…everything,” he began. “We were young and in love. The height of our passion lasted about a year. I asked her to marry me. She asked time to consider. Within a fortnight, she was engaged to another man. They married in the spring, and I set sail for my first tour of the West Indies. That was eight years ago.”
It was a common enough tale: the young lady torn between two suitors. She felt for him his pain at not being chosen, but it was hardly surprising given the circumstances. “Has something happened then? Why does the lady still haunt you so?”
“I’ve had a letter from her. I had the news already from my brother, but her letter confirms: her husband is dead, and she now finds herself a wealthy widow.”
“And…was her letter cordial?”
He pulled it slowly from the inside pocket of his coat and held it out, the dark green wax seal broken. “Would you like to read it?”
Her hand reached out, ready to accept the letter, but she paused. “I don’t think—I shouldn’t read it, no.” She dropped her hand away. “If this were my letter to you, I don’t believe I would want it shared with another lady…even only a friend.”
With a curt nod he tucked it away. “She is cordial,” he said. “She makes it quite clear that she would like to renew our friendship.”
Her heart sank. It was she who forced the idea of friendship and nothing more…and she meant it. She had to be a friend now and counsel him, even if it meant she pushed him into the arms of another woman. “Well then, perhaps this is your second chance. If you loved her and she loved you, perhaps this time there will be no obstacle.”
Renley scoffed. “No obstacle except the past eight years. I loved her, Rose. She told me every day she loved me. But when her love was put to the test, she walked away. Without a second look or a second thought. She had the audacity to invite me to the bloody wedding!”
He stood and stalked away, only turning when he’d reached the open windows. “In the end, my love wasn’t enough. Why should it suddenly be enough now? If I value my pride, how can I accept her renewed attentions?”
Rosalie worried her bottom lip. “The gentleman she chose…was he as handsome as you? As lively and engaging?”
Renley scoffed again. “Thackeray Young was a man nearing thirty with little wit and dull manners. She settled herself on him for his seven thousand a year.”
“I believe you might be giving the lady too much credit to assume she really had a simple choice between you and the other gentleman. In fact, I imagine if you ask her, she’d say she made an impossible choice. In the end, it was no choice at all.”
His eyes narrowed. “No choice? We always have a choice. She had me on my knees, heart in hand, offering her the world. All Young had was a London townhouse and deep pockets. She didn’t even know the man! She chose her own comfort over a love match. Is she now to be rewarded with me falling to my knees yet again?”
How was it possible that even the cleverest of men could be so blinded? She sighed, shoulders sagging slightly from the weight of having to explain womanhood. “Tom, do you have any idea what it means to be a woman in this society?”
He blinked at her, confused.
“Do you have the slightest notion of our constant, debilitating fear? Knowing that at every moment our fortunes depend upon staying in the good graces of the men in our lives? That we are all, at every moment of the day, one step away from ruination, whether we are a lowly gentleman’s daughter or even a queen.”
He had the good sense to look ashamed. Crossing over to the bed he sat down, taking her hand. “I hadn’t considered it from that angle.”
“Your Marianne chose safety and security, yes. She chose fortune over risking it all on a throw of the dice with you. What were you then, all of seventeen, eighteen? You’re a second son with no guarantee of position or fortune. You think your love was not enough for her, but that is a childish notion. Only men can afford to hold to such romantic ideas.”
“You surprise me, Rose,” he said. “You don’t think love ought to matter between two people? That it should not be the foundation of a marriage?”
“Love rarely has any role in the marriage calculation. Not for a woman who prizes her life and the living of it. It was never about whether she loved you, Tom. She simply chose a fate that would move her further from the brink of ruination.”
He looked down at where their hands were joined and his thumb moved softly back and forth. She tried to control her breathing. Each time he touched her, she felt warm and jittery. Now was no different.
“You must think me heartless for hating her all these years,” he muttered.
“You’ve been uncompromising with the lady,” she admitted. “Unjust and unfair…and frankly a bit naïve.”
He blinked twice before barking out a laugh. “Oh, is that all, Miss Harrow?”
She blushed, worried she might have made him angry. “Yes, that is all.”
“Christ, you give your opinions so freely,” he said. “I’ve never spoken like this with a woman. I feel like it was I who was just thrown from a horse.”
She couldn’t hide her smile. “That is your fault too.”
“Ahh, is it? Add it to the list then,” he said with a dramatic wave of his hand.
“You told me to treat you like a friend,” she reminded him.
He sighed in annoyance, even as his mouth tipped into a smile. “I suppose I did.”
“And do you now regret your decision? Should we go back to behaving as mere acquaintances? Shall I call you ‘Lieutenant Renley’ again?”
He leaned in, their faces inches apart as he muttered, “Don’t you dare.”
They held each other’s gaze, her hand still held in his. “I don’t know to what end you seek my advice. But if your plan is to go to her and renew your courtship, I’ll have to say…you seem quite miserable about it.”
He laughed again, but it was hollow. “I wear my heart on my sleeve,” he admitted. “More often than not, it feels like a runaway kite, string pulled taut as the winds batter it to pieces.”
She mused on this with a soft smile. Not like a kite…like a ship adrift at sea. Yes, Burke was the rogue knight, James the lonely fortress, and Renley was a powerful ship, battered by the sea, desperately in search of a calm port in the storm. She fought the urge to raise her free hand and brush those hopeless curls off his forehead.
Thinking of the men together made her mindful. “Can I ask…what does Lord James think about it all?”
Renley sighed heavily, his thumb still making absentminded strokes on the back of her hand. “James thinks I should go to London. He thinks I will never lay her ghost to rest until I have seen her and spoken to her. He says I must face my past.”
She couldn’t help but smile. She expected nothing less from the lord. “That sounds quite sensible. And Burke?”
“Burke thinks I’m well shot of her. But he never liked her so…”
This gave Rosalie pause and—dare she say it—hope? Was it possible that the woman truly right for Tom Renley could ever be disliked by one of his dearest friends? What kind of person must she be that Burke would disapprove? “Can I ask the reason for his dislike?”
Renley shrugged. “They never got on.”
“Surely it must be more than that…”
“He always said she smiled too much and that it never met her eyes…though what that means, I have no idea,” Renley replied.
Rosalie puzzled over this. Was Marianne an actress then? Did Burke see through her artifice? He certainly had the ability to read people. Perhaps Renley, young and innocent as he was, read more into Marianne’s love than was ever there…
“Your friends have given you their advice, and now I shall give you mine.”
He scooted closer. “I’m all ears, Rose.”
“Do not love her again if it’s not in your heart to do so…but forgive her,” she said. “For your sake and hers, forgive her everything. Tell her you have done so and let her move on. Or take the gift fate has bestowed on you and go to her now that you can. And choose to be happy.”
“You really think it’s that easy?”
“No, of course not,” she replied. “But life is about our choices as you said. If we make enough of the right kind of choices, we might find happiness. Even if ultimately our choice is to soldier on alone. There can be happiness in that too.”
He held her gaze for a moment. A thousand thoughts flashed through those blue eyes. Had she said too much?
“You are wise, Miss Harrow,” he murmured.
She was Miss Harrow again. Not a good sign.
“I speak as I find,” she replied, regretting her loose tongue.
“Yes…you do.”
“Have I offended you?” she dared to ask.
Before he could respond, Sarah came bustling back in with a heavily laden tea tray. “So sorry about my delay, Miss Rosalie.”
Renley bolted off the side of the bed, snatching up his hat. “I’m afraid I’ve taken up enough of your time, Miss Harrow,” he said, clearing his throat. “You need rest and relaxation and burdening you with my problems affords neither. I’m glad to see you are on the mend.”
“Thank you,” she replied, feeling increasingly empty. Burke was already avoiding her, now she’d just pushed Renley away.
Renley turned to leave, but paused, suddenly patting the pocket of his coat. “Oh, I did have another gift for you.”
“Is this one pilfered too?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“In fact, it is.” He pulled out a small book. “I stole this from the library. You cannot possibly be enjoying the last one I gave you,” he said with a nod to the book currently sitting at her bedside.
“I confess, astral navigation is not my favorite subject.”
“Perhaps this will be more to your liking.”
“What is it about?” she asked, examining the cover. She glanced back up to see he was watching her.
“Read it and report back.” With that, he turned and left, walking right past a confused Sarah who was ready at last to pour their tea.
It was a novel. More accurately, it was a romance novel. A dreamy tale of a young princess swept off her feet by a mysterious knight. It was the perfect distraction to avoid thinking about Burke and his teasing dare, Renley and his sudden dismissal, James and his rigid rejection.
She read all through the evening. Madeline peeked her head in to say goodnight. Hours later, the candles in her room burned low. Rosalie lay atop the covers, for it was too warm for a blanket. She curled up on her good side, inching towards the candle’s light, her bare legs stretched out behind her. The daring knight was ready to profess his love.
Rosalie was so entranced, she didn’t hear the rattle of the door handle. She didn’t even hear it squeak open. But she did hear it shut…and she most definitely heard the deep sound of a man clearing his voice. With a gasp she rolled over to see Burke leaning against the door, his stormy grey eyes trailing up the line of her bare legs, settling on her surprised face.
“Look who’s still awake.”
