To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

Chapter 36

An entire week had passed since the night of the accident, and Carver had only been to visit her once. One blasted time. He hadn’t stayed long or said particularly much during his time at her bedside, but it was long enough for Rose to notice the dark circles that pressed under his eyes and the sadness that clung to him. She barely knew what to think of it. He was so closed off. So distant and unapproachable. Had he changed his mind? Did he no longer love her? Perhaps he had f

inally realized how moronic it would be to take her as his wife.

The past week had wrung every drop of emotion out of Rose’s heart. Never before had she allowed herself to feel so exposed and aware of her own emotions. In Carver’s absence—and mainly because she had been confined to her bed from her various injuries—she had spent the majority of the week in his sisters’ company. Rose was touched at the amount of time each sister wanted to spend with her. And it was her they wished to spend time with. Not Daphney.

Rose had finally been able to share the details of her life she had kept secret for so long. It was equal parts freeing and exhausting.

“Has Carver ever told you about Claire?” said Oliver, interrupting her conversation with Elizabeth about London parks during one of his and Elizabeth’s usual afternoon visits.

She died, were the only words that came to mind. “Not really,” she said. Actually, Carver had never even told Rose the woman’s name before. But instinctively she knew it was the same woman. “Only that she died three years ago.”

“He didn’t tell you how?” No. And Rose could never bring herself to ask.

She shook her head and forced her gaze out of the bright sunny window. Everyday had been nothing but glorious beautiful sunlight since that stormy night a week ago. If only Carver had come around to enjoy it with her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rose noticed Oliver and Elizabeth share a look. Elizabeth nodded as if giving Oliver unspoken permission. “Claire was Carver’s very best friend,” said Oliver. “Her family’s estate shares a boundary line with Dalton Park. They grew up together and loved each other nearly their whole lives. Carver finally proposed to Claire a little over three years ago and she of course accepted.” Tension increased with each word. Rose could feel her body stiffening with dread.

“A week after their engagement, she rode her horse over to visit him, but he wasn’t home.” Oliver swallowed and Rose watched as Elizabeth began fidgeting with her skirt between her fingers. “She returned home instead of waiting for him. Claire always rode neck or nothing, and on the way home, her horse stepped into a rabbit hole and broke its leg.” He paused and swallowed. “She was tossed from the saddle and broke her neck. She died instantly. A servant found her first and brought her back here.” He paused again and took a breath. “Carver returned from a hunting excursion to find his betrothed dead in his home.”

Rose’s heart crumbled for him as all of the pieces to his puzzle fell into place. It was why he hadn't wanted to come home. He couldn’t face the memory of his loss. It was why he hadn't wanted her to ride his horse. He was afraid she would fall to the same fate. That’s when she realized that she had almost fallen to the same fate. What must Carver be going through? Is that why he was avoiding her?

“Thank you for telling me,” were the weak words she managed to spit out. Why had he told her all of this?

Oliver nodded and leaned forward in his seat, as if he hadn’t even told her the most important part yet. “Carver has been hiding from Claire’s death these past few years. I think your accident last week finally made him face it. And when he almost lost you, it nearly broke him.” His look only grew. “I—I only tell you this because I hope that by you knowing…you’ll be less inclined to give up on him.” Give up on him?

It would seem everyone had noticed Carver’s distance over the week. As much as Rose wanted to believe that she and Carver did have a future together, and as much as she had grown to love his family as her own, she did have doubts. Not doubts that she loved him and wanted to be his wife, but doubts that he still wanted her.

“I have no doubt that Kenny loves you, Rose.” She stiffened. Had she voiced her thoughts out loud? “But I think he’s working through the healing that he’s needed for a long time. He’s pushing all of us away because of it. Carver excels in taking care of others, but he absolutely has no idea how to let others take care of him. I’m confident that once he has some time alone with his feelings, he’ll come back to us.” His gaze became pointed. “All of us.”

Rose had tried to hold on to Oliver’s words the past three days. She really had. But when Carver never came to visit her—and then seemed to never leave his room when she was once again able to walk around the house—she had to face the fact that their relationship might truly be over.

She snatched the last dress from her wardrobe and shoved it a bit too forcefully into her valise. All of her emotions were hovering just below the surface and it was getting harder and harder to keep them from showing. She felt anger. Disbelief. And mostly…sadness.

Carver clearly needed the time to heal and Rose was happy to give it to him. But would it have killed him to convey that to her? Did he have to be so entirely inattentive? One smile. One word of hope. One reassuring look was all she needed for her to stay and remain content with his distance.

Even more so, she wished that he would just come to her and let her help him shoulder his grief. She had plenty of experience in that area. But maybe…he just didn’t love her enough for that.

She punched a shawl into her valise and felt somewhat better. Finally, she moved to her vanity and opened the bottom drawer. Underneath a handkerchief she found her pistol. She hiked up her skirt and placed it in its familiar holster. She wasn’t going to thieve anymore, but that didn’t mean she had to completely give up her old way of life. It was nice to know she could protect herself if the need arose.

A small knock at the door made Rose drop her skirt. Her heart raced. Was it him? But then Elizabeth’s familiar blonde curls dashed that hope. But still, she was happy to see the girl. They had grown particularly close over the week.

“Can I come in?” asked Elizabeth.

Rose smiled. “Always,” and settled on her bed, signaling for Elizabeth to join her.

Elizabeth crossed the room and sat on the bed next to her, tucking her knees up to her chest. That was different. More and more over the course of the week Rose had been able to see a different side of Elizabeth. The girl seemed to constantly be trying to convince everyone as well as herself that she was a woman—no longer the wild, adventurous child. But just now, she seemed to be giving up the fight. Her normally bright face wore a forlorn expression.

“Is something wrong?” asked Rose, reaching out to take Elizabeth’s hand. The gesture surprised herself. When had she become so affectionate and soft?

Elizabeth attempted a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “He’ll never see me as anything besides his little Lizzie who was constantly stepping in the mud or tearing her dress climbing apple trees.” Rose knew exactly who he was even though Elizabeth had never spoken of him before. It had become plainly obvious to Rose over the course of the week that Elizabeth was deeply in love with Oliver. It seemed ridiculous that Oliver didn’t seem to notice. But then again, it was hard for someone to notice a look that was only cast to the back of one’s head.

“You love him,” Rose said quietly and with a smile she hoped looked sympathetic.

Elizabeth’s eyes rolled away from Rose while blinking back tears. “Yes. But it doesn’t matter,” she said. “He’ll never fall in love with me as he does all of those London dashers. I’ll never not be ten years old to him.”

Rose pressed her lips together, searching her mind frantically for adequate words. This sister role was completely new for her. Saying the wrong thing seemed like too great a possibility. And yet…Elizabeth had come to her. That said something, didn’t it?