“Oh, Rose, Fate conspired to bring Oliver to me.” Nicole looked up at Oliver, admiration evident in her smile. “We’ve been on one wild adventure this last week. But through all the angst, we found love.”
Rose tried to hold back the tears. Nicole deserved to be happy, and Oliver would never find a woman as kind and caring.
One solitary tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m so pleased for you both.”
“I’ll leave you to continue your conversation in private.” Christian shuffled back. He did not sound like himself at all. “I shall be in the drawing room should you need anything further.”
“Thank you, Farleigh,” Oliver said. “Thank you for coming to our aid, and for taking care of my sister.”
Christian appeared indifferent, yet the tension in the air crushed the breath out of her lungs. He stood rigid, his body stiff. No matter how many times she looked at him, he refused to meet her gaze.
“I shall arrange for Mrs Hibbet to help Rose pack, although she came here with very little. I’m sure you want to be on your way. And may I offer my felicitations on your good fortune.”
“You’re welcome to join us tomorrow. We have no friends or family in the area and would welcome a familiar face in the pews.”
“Thank you for the kind invitation, but I fear, in light of this sudden turn of events, I must spend time with my children.”
Rose’s heart sank to her stomach at the thought of leaving them.
Reality struck her like a sharp slap in the face. The only hope she had of staying was if she married Christian. But he’d made his position clear. Mrs Hibbet would help her pack.
“Can I not at least stay one more night?” She spoke directly to him, and with some reluctance, he met her gaze. “Can I not say goodbye to the children?”
“I shall speak to the children in the morning.”
Oliver snorted. “Why would you want to stay? Lord Farleigh will explain that you’re not a governess.”
Part of her wanted to be a simple governess, with no wealth or home to call her own. She reached out and touched Christian’s arm. “I’d like to help them understand my predicament.”
“You mean the unfortunate and regrettable situation you find yourself in. No, it’s best they hear the news from me.” He inclined his head to her brother. “As I said, I shall await you in the drawing room, directly across the hall.”
He stepped away, left her hand hanging in the air, and then he was gone.
Chapter Seventeen
Christian closed the study door behind him and sucked in a breath. The years spent hearing Cassandra’s lies should have prepared him for this moment. He thought he knew a voice filled with falsity. He thought himself a ma
ster at recognising those unwitting flicks of the eyes that gave the game away.
But no. He’d come to learn there was no universal dictionary when it came to deceit. Yet the word fool was a generic term which defined him in every given situation.
He recalled the moment Rose stood on the steps of Morton Manor, wrapped in his embrace, sobbing into his cravat. The urge to protect her surfaced instantly, and he realised he couldn’t fight the connection no matter how hard he tried.
But her sorrow stemmed, not from the family tragedy that left her destitute, but the mistake she’d made in not returning to the manor sooner. And while he’d tried his utmost to persuade her to stay at Everleigh, leaving was always part of her agenda.
The grandfather clock chimed the quarter hour, and he contemplated kicking the blasted thing simply out of spite. His chest felt as hollow as the mahogany casing. And while his heart thumped to the same rhythm as the brass pendulum, he would remain stuck in this moment, never quite knowing how to move on.
He put his hands on his knees and closed his eyes as a deep sense of despair surrounded him — for his own broken heart, and because he knew what this would do to his children.
Anger flared again, and he strode into the drawing room, slammed the door shut and flopped down onto the sofa.
Restless, he jumped straight back up and moved to the row of decanters on the side table. The slight tremble in his fingers reflected the instability of his emotions. Anger gave way to despair. Disdain gave way to sorrow. He grabbed the brandy, splashed a few mouthfuls into a crystal tumbler and gulped it down. Still, the potent liquid did nothing to ease his torment, and so he refilled the glass, eager to do anything to rid his mind of all thoughts.
Frozen in an odd form of stasis, he stared at the pattern on the rug until the shapes blurred into one. Minutes passed. He dissected the events of the last week and cursed Fate’s cruel intervention.
The knock on the door startled him. Their eagerness to depart roused his ire. But then Rose had nothing to pack. She’d arrived with a kind smile and a caring heart — or so he’d believed — and another lie to account for her missing luggage.
The caller knocked repeatedly. Christian gritted his teeth and ignored the annoying sound. Stanton could go to hell. He didn’t care if the earl thought him rude. He wanted them gone, wanted to regain some semblance of normality.