Rose in Bloom (Sex and the Season 2)

“Impossible. The bastard was killed decades ago.”

Larson cleared his throat. “Yes. There’s no way he could have survived that beating.”

“Then what is this about?”

“He might have fathered a child. I don’t know. I’ll find out all I can. But I thought you’d want to know.” Larson nodded and left the room.

“God damn it,” Adams said under his breath. “God damn it all to hell.”

Chapter Eleven

Near the end of the week, Rose summoned Lily’s coach and rode out to the Prices’ cottage, determined to find out the truth. She had stayed away for a week, but she couldn’t get the words of Cameron’s mother out of her mind. She had intended to honor the older woman’s wish for her to stay away, but damn it, she needed to know. Did Cameron love her? Mrs. Price had indicated he did. Yet Cam himself denied it.

But he had kissed her the previous week, a kiss filled with love and passion. Rose expected Evan to propose to her any day now. Before she could decide how to respond, she had to know the truth of Cam’s feelings.

Her heart thumped as the carriage stopped in front of Cameron’s cottage. Bracing herself to be strong, she descended with the help of Lily’s coachman. She breathed deeply and readied herself for a fight with Cameron’s mother, who had told her in no uncertain terms that she was never to return here. Rose knocked hesitantly on the door.

No response. She knocked more forcefully.

Again no answer. The door was slightly ajar so she opened it and went in. “Mrs. Price?” she called. “Cameron?”

She walked out of the small entryway and into the sitting area. She breathed in sharply, shocked. The house was vacant. The tattered chairs in the corner were gone. The worn brocade sofa was gone. The twangy pianoforte, gone. Quickly she ran from room to room. Everything was gone. She ran out the back door to the hired man’s cabin. The slipper tub was gone. The nightstand and the table and chairs were gone. But the bed, where she and Cameron had made love, remained, the covers still rumpled.

She walked to it and sat down, brought the quilt to her face and inhaled. Cameron’s spicy aroma still permeated the fabric. Slowly she lay down upon the bed, enfolding herself in Cam’s scent. He hadn’t taken the bed. He had left it.

He had left her.

She wept quietly into the pillow.

Several minutes later she rose from the bed, folding the quilt neatly. She would take it, as a token to remember her time with Cameron. He hadn’t wanted it or the bed. Apparently she had meant nothing to him after all. His mother had been mistaken. A huge sigh escaped Rose’s throat as she wiped her eyes and nose on the folded comforter and threw it back on the bed.

She would leave it. The time had come to say goodbye to Cam and what they had shared. She would get on with her life.

She would accept Evan’s proposal when it came.

* * * *

When Rose returned to Laurel Ridge, she was surprised to see Evan’s carriage. Although it was Friday, he and his father weren’t due to arrive until later that afternoon.

She stepped out of the carriage and hurried into the mansion. She knew her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks stained with tears. She nearly ran to the staircase, hoping to avoid Evan, but ran straight into Lucy.

“Goodness, dear, why are you in such a hurry?” Lucy widened her eyes. “What is the matter?”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Lucy, I should have been looking where I was going,” Rose replied, and then burst into tears.

“Darling girl, come with me.” Lucy led her up to the third floor, to her suite of rooms in the north wing. She rang for a tea tray, sat Rose down on a rich brown velvet sofa, and took her hand.

“Now, what on earth is going on?”

Rose’s sobs came in large gulps. “I…need to talk to someone,” she wept. “Usually it’s Lily I talk to, but she’s not here. And now… Oh, I don’t know what to do!”

“Goodness.”

Lucy rose and came back with a large handkerchief and a moist cloth. She gently wiped Rose’s face, which only made Rose cry harder as she remembered wiping Cameron’s face.

“There, there now. You can talk to me. Or if you’d rather, I’ll get your aunt or one of your cousins.”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Rose said. “In fact, I think you might be the perfect person to talk to.”