To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

It was unfortunate that she would now have to repeat the story to Carver, along with a slew of other embarrassingly romantic tales about their sham of a love story. There was not a chance that Carver wouldn’t tease her for the stories she made up, but there was nothing to be done about it now. The ladies had hoped to hear sweet tales of the two love birds and Rose hadn’t disappointed them. And although she would deny it all the way to her grave, part of her—a very minuscule part—enjoyed the thought of Carver actually caring for her in the way her stories suggested.

She had attempted to find him after leaving Elizabeth’s room. She didn’t think that his sisters would question him about the stories, but he needed to be ready if they did. But she had only spotted him through the window. He was walking across the grounds, without his coat and with such a look of unveiled pain slashed across his face that she almost felt ashamed to have witnessed it. He wouldn’t have wanted her to see it. His mask of strength had been, at all other times, perfectly in place. But then, she saw him broken, full of hopelessness and pain. What had happened to him? Would she ever know?

She had watched him from that window, behind her own mask and hiding place for far too long. But she had hoped that watching him would lead her to some hint of what had happened to him. It hadn't. And by dinner that evening, he had his mask firmly back in place.

Today, Rose was determined to find Carver and tell him all the embarrassing things that she hadn’t been able to yesterday. Bright afternoon sunlight beamed in through the towering windows as Rose descended the stairs in search of Carver.

As Rose wandered through the house, she found it amazing that although the temperatures outside where anything but warm, the golden tint of the sun against the oak banister and deep red rugs made the house feel as if it were in the peak of summer—that, and around every corner she found vases filled with flowers that could only be found in a garden during the warmer months. How was that possible? There had to be a greenhouse nearby. And if that were true, she very much wanted to find it.

Rose lingered as she walked. A house of that enormity ought to feel cold and uninviting. Instead, it felt magical. Warm. Mature in only the way that a castle built two hundred years ago could be. If she were to listen closely enough, she figured she would be able to hear the stories that lived within those walls.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rose found Mr. Henley quietly addressing a footman. Once he finished, Rose approached him. “Good day, Henley.” To be honest, she wasn’t entirely sure how to interact with a butler. In real life, she would rank far under the man. But in this pretend, upside-down world, she was a lady. So she tried to her best to appear as such.

He bowed politely. “Good day, miss. Is there something I might help you with?” The older butler had a kindness in his features that set Rose at ease.

“I was hoping you could tell me where I might find Lord Kensworth.”

“Of course, miss.” He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. “I believe he might be found in the nursery.” Henley spoke as if he were telling an important secret. One just for her.

“In the nursery?” Visiting Jane, most likely.

The butler nodded and smiled. “I was instructed not to tell Her Grace or any of his sisters. However, seeing as he did not include yourself in those instructions, I believe it is safe to tell you where he may be found.”

Rose smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep the secret.” She winked and the older butler flushed a little.

After

receiving detailed directions to the nursery, Rose made her way to the third floor of the home. It didn’t take her long to locate it, mostly because of the bursts of girlish laugher resounding off of the walls.

Rose stood just outside of the door peeking in on the nursery. It could only be described as a child’s dream come true. Tall windows lined the walls, allowing an abundance of light to fill the space. The walls were painted to resemble a lush garden, and a canopy of light yellow fabric draped from the center of the room all the way out to the corners and down to the floor.

Carver suddenly came into view. He was squatted down and…hopping across the floor? His jacket, waist coat, and cravat were tossed over a chair and Carver—Lord Kensworth, the fierce pugilist and future Duke of Dalton—was hopping across the floor of a nursery making croaking sounds. He looked ridiculous. And apparently that was the point because little lady Jane sat in a child-sized chair having a fit of laughter.

“You’re not supposed to be laughing, my dear. You’re supposed to be guessing,” said Carver in mock exasperation while continuing to hop around the room.

“A bird!” Jane giggled.

“No.” He said before making another frog noise.

“A dog!”

“Ribbit.”

“An elephant!”

Carver paused and flashed the girl a narrowed glare. “Lady Jane, you wouldn’t be making the wrong guess on purpose to watch your uncle make a fool out of himself, would you?”

The little girl nodded proudly and released another giggle.

His jaw dropped in feigned astonishment as he stood to his full massive height again. He looked down to his sleeves and began to roll them up with a menacing grin on his lips. Rose looked from Carver to Jane who eyed her uncle with an expression that indicated she knew what was coming next.

He smiled. “You better run, little one.”

Jane squealed and shot from her seat. She turned quickly around her chair and began to run across the room as Carver started chasing her. Jane could barely run, she was laughing so hard. Rose felt her own heart beat faster from the memory of Carver chasing her through the meadow yesterday morning.

Pretending to run at a slower pace than Jane, Carver would reach out just as he was about to catch the girl and then let her slip through his fingers. On and on this game went until Rose accidentally let a slight laugh escape and Carver’s gaze flew to her.

He froze for a moment before a slow smile grew over his mouth in a way that made Rose’s breath quicken involuntarily. “Well, well, well,” he stalked toward Rose with a tipped eyebrow. “Jane, darling, it would appear we have a spy skulking about.”