CHAPTERFOUR
For a moment, Mary did not react. She looked like she had not actually taken the information in. Then, a look of utter incomprehension passed across her features, but when she opened her mouth to speak, nothing came out. Rose waited, a fixed smile on her face, everything inside of her braced for her sister’s response. When it came, it was explosive.
“Are you quite mad?”
Mary leaped to her feet. “No. This is not possible. He is a bellicose fop. All of London knows that. How can you even countenance such an action? Ambrose was a strange enough choice but Barrington? Ernest Barrington?” Mary was shouting now. “He has had carnal knowledge of half of the ton, or at least he claims he has. I cannot imagine how any virtuous maid could ever consider laying with someone so odious.”
Rose did not have the words to mount a defense. She was well aware everything Mary was saying was true, except for one vital point.
“But he is the new Duke, and he now owns my home.”
“That’s not a home; that’s a prison. You hardly ever leave it. You have been alone essentially for a decade. You are twenty-nine. Are you truly going to spend your whole life living with someone who is either morally or physically repugnant?”
Rose spread her hands. “I have nowhere else to go!”
“Then you come here.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not? This is your home as much as it is mine. The children love you. Jacob adores you. We have plenty of room. You can stay here as long as you like while you decide what to do.”
“But I would have no income. I need someone to provide for me.”
“Then we will. Lord knows you have provided for us.”
Rose tried to calm her sister, grabbing hold of her hand as she started pacing and holding her still. “Mary, I love all of you so much, but I will not be beholden to you. I have to make the sensible decision. Ernest will no doubt spend much of his time in London, and I will be able to enjoy the castle and be near you. That castle is my home. Love isn’t always necessary.”
Mary clasped Rose’s hand with both of her own. “Yes, Rose, it is.” She moved to kneel in front of her sister. “Love is everything. I can’t let you block your own happiness, not to mention children, tenderness, and emotion. Without that, you have nothing.”
Rose smiled wanly at her.
“Talk to Will,” Mary urged her. “Please.”
“We already did.” Rose found she had to bite back tears as she mentioned his name. “This will just be an extension of what I had before. Same home. Same title. It will be secure.”
“It will be purgatory,” Mary declared.
How could she be expected to understand, Rose thought. She'd never know why, and she hadn't been present when Will morphed from a sultry seducer to a contemptuous, resentful victim of her decisions.
“Well, I shall not watch,” Mary said. “If you go from this house into the arms of that toad, I shall never visit.”
“Mary, please, I am going to need you.”
“No, Rose, absolutely no. If you want to destroy your life, there is nothing I can do, but I shall not be a witness. Mark my words.”
Despite Mary's reaction, Rose made her decision quickly. She knew that if she thought about it too long, she would be dissuaded, so she sat down at her desk the next morning and wrote a letter to the Duke. She asked to see him in Arundel at his earliest convenience.
He didn't keep her waiting for long. Her butler informed her the following afternoon that the Duke of Norfolk had requested an audience.
Rose had dressed modestly, in a lilac gown with short puff sleeves and a high neckline obscured by cream lace. This bodice flattened rather than enhanced her breasts, and the material fell in thick folds from her diaphragm so that no other part of her body was exposed. She wore her hair in a tight bun and applied only a light dusting of face powder to her cheeks. Rose knew she and the Duke would be forced to have carnal relations after their marriage, but she didn't want to encourage it. She hoped he'd grow tired of her and find someone else to entertain himself with.
“Do show him in, Jennings,” she bade as she smoothed the lilac fabric over her knees.
Ernest sauntered into the drawing room with a smug, self-satisfied look on his florid features. He was peering at the coats of arms over the two fireplaces and the portraits of his ancestors on the walls.
“Your Grace.” He dipped his head as his gaze finally came to rest on her.
“Your Grace,” she returned. She did not rise from her seated position; she kept her body straight, tensing her shoulders, to make it clear there was no surrender in the decision she was about to announce. “You received my note?”