A range of emotions marred her pretty face. She appeared apprehensive. Sorrow swam in her eyes, and she turned from him once more and banged the door with an air of desperation.
“Were you expecting someone else?”
Obsessed with gaining entrance to the house, she did not reply.
“They’ve gone. There’s no one here.” The croak in her voice conveyed the same sense of hopelessness that tainted her countenance. “I’ve crept around, looked through every window, resorted to rapping the door more times than I care to count.”
Christian dismounted and climbed the narrow flight of steps to stand at her side. “Perhaps your employer misinformed you and recalled the staff back to town. Are you certain it was the owner of Morton Manor who hired you?”
Rose nodded, though the look of anguish on her face baffled him.
The chivalrous part of his nature wished for a way to ease her torment.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said with a weary sigh. “Perhaps they’ve all left for London.”
“Then there is no need to inform them of your change in circumstances.”
She turned and looked out over the desolate landscape, scanned the ground in front of the house for what he did not know. “Do you think they left in a carriage?”
The question was as odd as her reaction to the occupants’ absence, and yet he searched the gravel looking for tracks purely to appease her.
“Servants travel on the mail coach. Only a nursemaid or a paid companion might expect such a luxury.”
Rose hung her head. “What have I done?”
“What is it that troubles you?”
“I … I wanted to warn her.” The words tumbled from her mouth on a sob. “I should not have waited. I should have come here at first light. It is my fault. Tiredness is a terrible thing.”
Usually Christian despised the sound of a woman crying. Cassandra’s tears were as fake as her protestations of fidelity, yet Rose’s reaction spoke only of sincerity. So much so, he wrapped his arms around her and let her bawl into the folds of his cravat.
It was a mistake.
A pat on the arm would have sufficed along with a few words of encouragement to pull herself together. And yet he was the one who took a measure of comfort from holding her close. It was the pain in his heart that eased when he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, when the warmth of her body penetrated his clothing.
God, it had been so long since he’d felt anything other than bitterness and guilt.
Another heartfelt sob escaped, and her shoulders shook as the dam holding back her emotion came crashing down. No doubt her sadness stemmed from more than her failure to alert the housekeeper of her plans. Christian suspected the tears were for her family, for the unfortunate cards dealt by Fate’s cruel hand.
Her hands came to rest on his waist, and a tremor shot through him like a bolt from the heavens.
“Forgive me,” she eventually said as her cries subsided. But he’d closed his eyes, couldn’t look at her while all honourable intentions were held together by a flimsy thread. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Christian grabbed hold of her hands and moved them down to rest at her sides. He opened his eyes and took a step back.
“You were obviously distressed.” Thick tears coated her lashes. Red veins littered the whites of her eyes. “Though I assume it is your recent misfortune that caused such an outpouring of sorrow.”
Rose stared at him, swallowed deeply and blinked. “This is the first time in my life I’ve been alone.”
The comment caused knots to form in his stomach. “I understand,” was all he managed to say.
They stood in silence, their ragged breathing filling the air. The need to ease her woes came upon him again. As their eyes locked, he forgot how much he detested the place. He failed to acknowledge that being on the grounds of the manor roused all the old feelings of deceit and betrayal.
In those few perfect seconds, he experienced peace.
“Would you mind escorting me around the perimeter of the house?” She glanced back at the solid front door with its rusty knocker. “I’d like to be certain no one is home before I leave.”
Christian inclined his head. “Certainly.”