Page 30 of The Perfect Rose

“And what if I have?”

What did that mean? Did the Duke of Gilfordshire have tender feelings for Lady Rose as well? Frederic himself had thought that Lady Rose would make a wonderful duchess, but he hadn’t considered his friend to be interested. However, Samuel had also seen Rose today at the Smith’s. Her goodness was no secret anymore. Was it so shocking that she would literally have every gentleman here vying for her hand and attention? And if that were the case, why would she ever consider Frederick a contender? Wait, but did that mean he considered himself a contender? That was ridiculous. He had told her he would never marry, and he wouldn’t.

He blinked fast, coming to his senses and realizing that Samuel was watching him with that annoying look of omniscience that dukes must be born with. “Never mind, forget I said anything.” He turned back into the billiard room with far more on his mind than he wanted.

Chapter Twenty-one

“What are you embroidering today, Lady Rose?” Miriam sat beside her with a smile. Something had changed between them as they were out amongst the tenants, and Rose found that she quite enjoyed what she thought might be the beginnings of friendship.

“I’m starting an apron for Clara.” She answered. “Do you think she would appreciate it, or would it be impertinent of me?”

Miriam brought her hands to her cheeks only partially covering her smile. “I know she will love it. How thoughtful of you to do something for her.”

“I cannot explain it, but I felt a connection to her today. She is such a sweet little thing. I forgot how apt children are to say exactly as they think. It was so refreshing.”

Rose knew that Miriam had seen how emotional she’d been earlier in the day. Her inclination was usually to deny that she had shown such weakness in character, but Clara had given her the courage to own up to her tears and not be ashamed of them in that moment. It was a gift that Rose intended to return. The apron would be simple, practical, but made with love. She didn’t have much time before she left this beautiful countryside.

Rose’s mother entered the room with Lady Gilfordshire on her arm. Her mother was talking loudly so that the dowager could hear. “Rose is such a dutiful child. She spends so much time practicing and refining her accomplishments, I don’t know a lady that can match her.”

Rose felt her face heat through. Miss Haybury began whispering to Miss Trenton on the other side of the room where the two were writing letters.

“Ignore her,” Miriam muttered under her breath.

Rose kept her eyes on her work and her fingers moving as she kept a low voice. “Who exactly, should I ignore, my mother or Miss Haybury.”

“Both of them, I presume. Your mother is correct: you are unmatched. But her way of parading it about this season has not come off in a flattering way for you.” She swallowed. “Forgive me, but you would have done better with silence from your mother. The ton would have filled in the silence with their own hopes and dreams and aspirations for you.”

Rose knew that Miriam was right, but there was nothing Rose could do to fix the past. She cut her pink thread and looked for yellow. “Instead, I am despised by everyone, doing things I do not find the least bit of enjoyment in, and now I am to be forced into something I very much do not like.” She bit her tongue. Had that really slipped from her mouth?

“What do you not enjoy doing? And what are you being forced into, Lady Rose?”

Rose closed her eyes and breathed, but she could not stop the torrent of words from escaping her mouth. “I do not enjoy playing music or singing or writing or making floral arrangements or being paraded about as if I were a monkey on display,” Rose whispered and then bit the inside of her cheek.

“But you do all of those things so well.”

“That is precisely the problem, if you had been forced to practice those things to perfection, you might hate them as I do. I find solace in my embroidery though. That is one accomplishment I can claim an affinity with.” Rose caressed her embroidery with the tender care of a parent with a new baby.

“And what of the being forced to do something you do not wish?” Miriam prodded.

“Please, forget I said anything. It isn’t for you to worry over.” She began an outline for a tight circle, and the satin stitch center of the flower she’d created.

Miriam scooted even closer to her. “Lady Rose, if you knew me better, you would understand that I am more curious and stubborn even than Frederick, which is saying something. But I am also loyal to a fault. You can tell me what concerns you. Perhaps I can help.”

Rose yearned to trust her, and she needed a friend. And Frederick had been true to his word. Rose would have had no hope at this point garnering the interest of a single gentleman, had it not been for his assistance and acting skills. If Miriam was cut from the same cloth, she could be trusted. “Your brother has already done more than he ought to help me, Miriam.” Rose breathed deeply as she made up her mind. She set her embroidery down. “But I will confide in you. You were the first person to take any interest in me by inviting me here. A help which you were unaware you were providing me at the time.”

Miriam dipped her head closer to Rose in a show of inspecting her work. “How have I helped you? I admit, my intentions for inviting you here were not completely guileless.” She flushed at the admission, and it made Rose trust her even more.

“I assumed as much and I harbor no ill will. You see, my parents want me to be engaged by the end of the season.”

“But the season is already winding down. How can they expect that?”

“Ah, but you see, their expectation is not so soft as that; in their minds, the season ends with this house party. In other words, I must be engaged in a little less than a week or they will apply to Mr. Dillard for the job.”

Miriam blinked, then stood and put her work in her basket. “I need to take a turn about the garden. Would you join me, Lady Rose?” She spoke in full volume now.

“I would be delighted, thank you.”

They left the drawing room arm in arm with more whispers at their backs. Rose noted that the whispers didn’t sting quite so acutely when she had a friend by her side. As soon as they had cleared the rose garden, Miriam set off at a brisk pace toward the kitchen garden. A path that was out in the open. Where they could be sure to see if anyone came upon them. Rose felt at peace knowing their conversation would be private.