Page 22 of Waking Roslyn

“Lord Rockwell makes you uncomfortable?”

Her eyes darted to mine, as though suddenly worried. “It’s not as though it’s constant,” she said. “I don’t mean to imply that it’s always terrible. Sometimes he’s perfectly civil. Most of the time, in fact.”

She was trying to convince herself. I had no doubt that Lord Rockwell either ignored this girl or else treated her poorly. Why I was so sure of that, I couldn’t say. And honestly, I hoped I was wrong. I hoped that he was not the bully I remembered.

Roslyn

I was defending him. Why was I defending him? Edmund wasn’t vicious or brutal, but he wasn’t good either. He more often than not looked at everyone with disdain, and he said things to Lisette that made my blood boil.

But I couldn’t say all of that. Even though John seemed to understand what I was saying, I couldn’t go running my mouth about how I didn’t like Edmund. I relied on his hospitality to keep me safe, and his servants were likely loyal. I needed to change the subject.

“Do you like working here?”

“I do. I enjoy my work. I’m here with my mother and sister. And I’m well compensated.”

I was glad for it. My mother had felt the same way before she’d married my father, when she’d been working as his housekeeper. But she’d told me stories about the struggles she’d endured in her earlier life. I knew a great many people of the lower class suffered their entire lives, so I was grateful that at least that was not the case here.

“And what about you?” he asked. “What do you think of your new home?”

I suddenly remembered what Lisette had said about the situation here that had required the duke’s attention. The corrupt lawmen. The unrest. The servants who fought back. I sat up and turned more fully toward him. “Are you one of them?” I asked before I thought better of it.

His grin was mesmerizing. It brightened his entire face and seemed to welcome me in. “I’m afraid I need more information if I’m to answer truthfully,” he said.

Right. He wasn’t reading my mind. “The ones who fought. The renegade servants who rose up against the magistrate.”

“Renegade servants?” he repeated as though he found the title amusing. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Then I have you to thank,” I said, feeling an instant camaraderie with him.

His brow furrowed in adorable confusion. “For what?”

“For forcing me to move here.”

His face fell. “Oh. I’m…sorry. We had no idea that the duke would require Lord Rockwell to remain, and I certainly had no knowledge of…you.”

I gave a little shake of my head. “I wasn’t being sarcastic. I truly am grateful to be here.”

He looked slightly appeased by my reassurance. “And Lady Rockwell?”

“Still deciding, I suppose. But I don’t get the sense that she dislikes it. At least not any more than she disliked the palace.”

“I don’t believe Lord Rockwell is happy with the move though.”

“Not at all. I think he hates it here. But why?” I asked as my curiosity reared up again. “I thought maybe he was just upset that his father ordered him here, but…”

John blew out a breath. “I don’t know the whole story. His brother died here, and the way his brother’s widow handled things afterwards was upsetting to him. They fought.”

I could tell he was choosing his words very carefully. “You can speak freely,” I said.

He smiled, but it was more of a grimace. “As you pointed out, he is the future ruler of Winberg, and I am only a groundskeeper.”

I chewed on my lip, tempted to tell him I was a foreigner and had no loyalty to Winberg or its rulers, but of course I couldn’t.

“Well,” I said, disappointed not to have learned more about Edmund, but determined to keep the conversation going. “Thankfully, I have no ill feelings attached to this place,” I quipped as I leaned back, somehow enjoying even this somber, abandoned wing of the house. “I love it here.”

“You’ve been here barely a week and already you are in love?”

“Yes, I am.” I looked at him and offered a smile.