ing her eyes. A glass of good brandy. She didn’t see anything so captivating. Brown. They were brown. And while assessing her features, she noticed a few additional flaws.

She placed a finger on either side of her brows and tugged upward trying to smooth out the new small lines she found around her eyes. When had she developed those? And all those freckles? Was that a grey hair? It was stupid of her to be surprised. She might be playing the part of a young housemaid, but the harsh reality was that she actually carried twenty-three years in her dish.

Rose had always looked young for her age, often able to play the part of a blushing young debutante without fear. But with a sinking feeling, she realized the day was quickly approaching when she would no longer be convincing in such a role. Her career would have to change, as her roles would change. And she was quickly exiting her marriageability window.

Stop. You don’t want to be married.

She couldn’t help but picture herself standing next to the unfairly handsome Carver Ashburn, Earl of Newburry. She was too dowdy and plain for him. It was a very good thing that she didn’t give a dash for the rake. And that she would be leaving in a few hours.

Chapter 8

Carver walked to his bedchamber feeling a touch odd, with a vague suspicion that he had made a mistake by bringing Daphney—or so she said was her name—to his home.

Originally, he had assumed she would be a needed diversion from the memories that lived in these halls. He could spend a few days teasing the minx before he confronted her on her scam. But something had shifted during the carriage ride that he couldn’t quite identify. And just a moment ago outside her room—what had that been? He had nearly kissed her…again. And not as a tease, but from a very real desire.

He couldn’t seem to shake the strong feelings tugging him toward her. Those eyes of hers felt like a beacon. They promised him a new life away from his pain, memories, and loneliness. But that was absurd. She was some sort of thief; he was certain of it. He couldn’t be falling for a thief—beautiful or not.

He stopped just outside the door of his bedchamber. Entirely too many memories lived inside that room. Opening it would mean opening himself back up to the same pain and heartbreak he had felt the day she died. It was where he had written sweet letters to her, dreamed of their future, and in the end, mourned her death. A death that had come far too suddenly for such a lovely young lady, and a death that was partly his fault. If only he hadn’t come home late, it never would have happened, and she would still be his.

Willing himself to finally open the door, Carver stepped into his room and froze. Instead of facing a flood of memories, he found his mother sitting in a chair beside the fire reading a book. His three sisters were gathered on his bed, looking precisely the same way they had when he was still living at home. His heart ached to see them all in this familiar scene again. It had been too long.

He whistled low. “Who’s the unfortunate sap that’s found himself in the suds with you beautiful ladies?”

Their eyes all snapped to him. “You!” they said in unison with that look that only females could achieve.

He raised his eyebrows, and a smile pulled at his lips. “Surely I’m not in trouble with you, love?” said Carver, walking over to lay a kiss on his mother’s cheek. It was amazing how she never seemed to age. Her hair was still almost as golden-blonde as Elizabeth’s, but with a few streaks of grey threaded throughout.

“Oh! Do not flatter me, you wicked boy,” said the duchess, looking at him from under her thick lashes, precisely as she had when he was a boy and she was about to scold him for putting pepper in his governess’ tea. “You know what you have done.”

Carver made a theatrical show of innocence. “I? Done something wrong? That doesn’t sound like me.” No matter that it had been three years since he had been home, he felt as if he could pick right back up with his family just as he had before he left. Of course, he had seen them every year when they had come to Town for the Season, but somehow it was different back at home. In town, they all had appearances to keep up and frequent calls to make. At home, they were simply family. No airs. No prying eyes.

Mary, his older sister and the one who most closely resembled him, spoke up. “Oh, Mother, that’s far too vague for a man who is constantly in one scrape or another.” She cast a pointed look to the cut above his eyebrow as if the injury alone proved her point. “Allow me to make it clear, brother. You brought home a lady of whom none of us have ever heard, and informed Henley that she is your intended.”

“Oh, that,” he said, smiling.

“Do you not deny it?” asked his mother, eyes narrowed.

“I could…but then it would be devilishly awkward when she walks into dinner tonight.”

The duchess stood and swatted him on the arm in her usual way. “How could you be so unfeeling as to not write to your mother that you were engaged?”

“And miss seeing your face when you found out? Absolutely not.” Outwardly, he was joking. Inwardly, he was cringing at the realization that he was going to be in a world of trouble with his family when they learned the truth. He was beginning to wonder if they even needed to know the truth. Maybe he could work something out with Daphney after she finally decided to come clean? Perhaps they could stage a fight and he could return her to London without his family becoming suspicious.

“Carver, I am told that you two arrived in the same carriage and without a chaperone. That was most improper.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose I’ll just have to marry her then.” He took in his mother’s expression and added, “No need to release your maternal wrath, Mother. I was a perfect gentleman to Daphney.” But then he thought back on the ride and that almost kiss. “Well…most of the time I was.” He smirked and his mother narrowed her eyes into slits.

“Carver, this is not a joke,” said Mary. “We all know how significant this is for you. I didn’t even realize that you had been thinking of courting again.”

He and Mary had always been the closest out of all of his siblings. They had an odd way of knowing exactly what the other was thinking. He hoped that she couldn’t see what he was thinking just then.

Had Carver actually been planning on marrying Daphney, it would have most certainly been a significant moment. But he wasn’t. He was just using her to divert his attention, as she was using him to fill her pockets. Surely that made what he was doing more honorable? His family would forgive him. If he thought it enough, would it become true?

He addressed Mary’s statement with as much truth as he could. “I wasn’t thinking of courting, but Daphney simply…showed up at my door. All it took was one look and my heart wanted her right away.” He had only said that last bit to make his case more convincing. But he tensed a little when he realized that some part of that statement rang true. Did he want Daphney? No. Stupid. He didn’t even know who she was.

Carver’s two youngest sisters sighed and pretended to swoon at his words. He narrowed his eyes and waved them off. “Enough of that. How is our dear Robert?” Carver asked Mary. “Still disgustingly in love with you?”

“I prefer devastatingly,” she said with a twinkle.

Tags: Sarah Adams Dalton Family Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net