Chapter 27
Was this real? It had to be a dream. But a quick pinch told Rose she was very much awake, and she should not have pinched so hard. An offending red splotch now marked her arm but still all Rose could do was smile. She laid in her bed, staring at the golden canopy draped over her and mentally re-lived her entire night with Carver. Their night together had been wonderful and sweet and intimate. Carver had asked her to marry him. She still couldn’t believe it. He knew her shortcomings; he knew her sins, and still he wanted her.
The very idea of him wanting her felt almost too good to be true. It felt like a lovely dream. A false reality. A continuation of their ruse.
A new feeling settled in Rose’s stomach. Something about it all felt unreal. But the more she thought of it, the more it did not feel like a good kind of unreal. There was something off—some unknown warning that she couldn’t name or understand. Perhaps she was sabotaging herself? Maybe this was her fear of a new life speaking. But no. She didn’t think so. Rose very much wanted to marry Carver. But somewhere deep within her she could feel a hesitancy that needed consideration.
Rose took her pillow and pulled it over her face. She felt like screaming. Why did she have to think so much? Why couldn’t she have just said yes right away and not given any of it another thought? She gave into her anxiety and released something like a growl mixed with a screech into her pillow. She kicked her legs and twisted around like a child throwing a tantrum, hoping she could simply will away her misgivings. It didn’t work. Now she just felt stupid and tangled.
She sat up and smoothed down her mass of wavy hair. She stared at the closed window curtains. A line of orange light seeped around the edges. That’s exactly how Rose felt. Like there was some truth trying to creep its way into her consciousness but it was obscured by her hope and longing to become Carver’s wife.
He was perfect in every way. And she loved him, she was sure of it. So why the hesitancy?
Later in the day, the duchess invited Rose to clip flowers in the greenhouse for the ball, along with Mary and Elizabeth. Having only spent the morning staring at her closed curtains, Rose readily accepted. The change of scenery was much needed. Maybe it would even help her sort out her feelings.
“Still nursing your bad mood, I see, Elizabeth,” said Mary, eyeing her sister who had been just as quiet as Rose during their time in the humid house of flowers. Rose watched from the corner of her eye as she clipped a pink bloom, not wanting to be observed eavesdropping, but very interested in the turn of conversation.
“I am entitled to a sour mood now and then, Mary,” Elizabeth’s words were clipped, confirming her sister’s statement.
Mary’s body seemed to soften as she moved to lean her hip against the short garden wall. “I’m sorry,” said Mary. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were not allowed to have bad days. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t. But I do wish you would tell me what is bothering you. I love you, and you know you can tell me anything.”
Suddenly, understanding dawned in Rose’s mind. She knew what had kept her from saying yes to Carver right away. She loved him. And he loved her—she didn’t doubt that—he just didn’t seem to love her enough to trust her with whatever pain he kept hidden away. At first, it hadn’t bothered her and she understood his need to stay quiet about it all. But now, she wondered at it. Could she live like that?
Rose would be turning her whole world upside down if she married Carver. There wasn’t a question in her mind that he would be an attentive, caring, and tender husband. Carver was the sort of man who would see to her every need and not stop until he knew she was completely and utterly cared for. But that’s not exactly what Rose wanted. But to be fair, she also hadn’t even realized that she wanted to be married until Carver came along. But even so, she knew that she did not want to be married to a man who didn’t need her care in return. She wanted her marriage to be a partnership. If Carver never opened up to her, never trusted her with his past, could she ever truly be happy with him?
Elizabeth clipped—a little violently—a long stem from a bed of flowers. “I know, but it’s nothing. I’m going to go clip some greenery.”
The greenery, Rose noticed, was conveniently on the other end of the greenhouse. Something was definitely bothering the girl, and if Rose was even considering accepting Carver and stepping into this tight-knit family, she needed to learn to act the role of a sister. No, she corrected herself. No more acting. No more roles. If she sought out Elizabeth, it would be from her heart, not because of a need to be someone she wasn’t.
I’ll think about Carver’s proposal later.
Part of her didn’t want to. She was afraid that she already knew the answer.
Rose shook off her thought and squared her shoulders toward Elizabeth’s direction as if going into battle. She crossed the humid room to where a very menacing Elizabeth was ruthlessly murdering a green plant. It wouldn’t survive her scalping. Rose moved her gaze from the pathetic plant to look at Elizabeth. The girl was looking a little pale and sallow. Rose opted for a lighter tone. “Heavens. That must have been some offensive plant.”
She had the privilege of watching Elizabeth’s lips tw
itch. “You should have heard the things it said about me.” Rose smiled at the quip. She liked Elizabeth. Actually, she loved the entire family. But she felt a special connection to Elizabeth that she didn’t feel with the rest of the Dalton ladies. Did Elizabeth like her as well? An even more terrifying thought…would she still when she found out the truth of Rose’s true identity? Would the family even allow Carver to marry such a criminal? Maybe all of this contemplation she was doing was for nothing.
She couldn’t focus on those things now. What did one say to a sister? If Rose was in a foul mood, she certainly didn’t want anyone commenting on it. No one ever enjoyed having their bad mood declared.
She decided on a more honest approach and said, “Elizabeth…I’m not sure how to talk to you.” But that was definitely too honest and didn’t come out at all right.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened but showed more amusement than shock. Rose added, “What I meant was, I’ve never had a sister, and this sort of relationship is completely new for me. So I cannot promise to be of any profound assistance, but I wanted you to know that if you wished to talk, my door is always open.” There. She said it. She felt stupid and clumsy, but she said it.
Elizabeth’s sincere smile warmed Rose, making her feel a little lighter, a little more capable of sisterly affection. “Thank you, Daphney.” And then the sound of her false name brought her back down to earth.
Rose stood outside of the drawing room, taking one step toward it and then away again. She’d been about this for far too long; the footman standing outside of the room, pretending scrupulously not to notice her indecision, was probably convinced she should be admitted to Bedlam.
She had avoided Carver all day, and she knew that if she stepped inside that drawing room where he and all of his family were gathered, she would no longer be able to avoid him. She didn’t feel any closer to a decision and he would be wanting one soon. Rose did know that she wanted to marry Carver. She wanted to be his countess. She wanted to start a new life with him in London. And she also wanted to shake that blasted feeling of hesitation—but couldn’t. It was there and it was real and it was demanding to be heard.
“Practicing your dance steps, love?” She jumped and whirled around at the sound of Carver’s voice behind her.
“Carver!” she said in too high of a voice. She cleared her throat lightly and tried for an easier tone. “I thought you were already in the drawing room.”
He grinned and tipped his brow. “Clearly.” Did he know she had been avoiding him? “Should we go in or would you like help practicing your dance steps? A waltz perhaps?” How did he always make her smile so easily?
“As much as I would love to dance with you, I think we had better go in.”