“Really?” She took a deep breath and deliberately relaxed every muscle she had been holding taut.
“I want to check on the house and some business matters, and I think I could endure the carriage ride now.”
“How long will you be away?”
“Just a few days. Maybe a week.”
So she had another week, at least.
“Would you care to join me?” he asked then.
“No,” she said quickly. “But thank you, Your Grace. Thank you for asking.”
He was staring at her like he could see right through her. He then smiled. Everything about him had slimmed down, and his dark hair had grown out into a rather handsome wave; his eyes appeared larger, and she noticed they were blue like hers. He didn't have a displeasing expression on his face, and his apparent concern for her was quite endearing.
Accompanying him to London would not be an onerous task, but the thought of running into Will with Lady Camilla on his arm was enough to make her feel quite nauseous, whatever the level of insulation she was maintaining.
“Very well, Your Grace, then I shall set off in the morning and send a note when I am about to return.”
He walked over to where she was sitting on the sofa by the mantelpiece and reached out one hand to cup her chin.
Oh no, thought Rose. The last thing she wanted him to do right now was kiss her. She tried desperately to think blank thoughts as she looked back at him, sitting beneath his touch.
“You really are so very beautiful,” he said, almost sadly. She had no idea what to say, not wanting to encourage him in any way. She settled on a simple ‘Thank You, Your Grace’ with absolutely no emotion in her voice at all.
He smiled again, then removed his hand and left the room, and she did not see him again before he left.
Five days later, Rose was sitting in the library with a pile of books in front of her, but she was not reading any of them. She was just looking out of the window, down towards the River Arun, watching the boats ply their way along the water.
“There’s a letter for you in the morning post, Your Grace,” Jennings said, entering the room. “From London.”
From Ernest, Rose assumed. She took it from the silver platter.
“Thank you, Jennings, I presume it is from the Duke telling us when he is coming home.”
“Perhaps, Your Grace.”
She put it down on top of the book pile and went back to her perusal of the Sussex countryside. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know when the guillotine would come down. Maybe, for a few minutes, she would just sit in this state of limbo that she had so been deriding just a few weeks before.
But eventually, the pull of knowing overcame her, and she looked back to the letter. And froze. It was not Ernest’s handwriting, but Will’s. She would recognize his neat, clipped hand anywhere.Why was he writing to her?She picked it up with a shaking hand. She could feel the bubble around her collapsing.Had he sent her a note of explanation? Or was it an invitation to his wedding?It was not a long letter. There was only a single sheet inside.
Rose did not want to open it, but she was desperate to. Just holding something that had been in his hand such a short time before gave her a feeling of longing. As much as she chided herself to overcome such foolish notions, everything she felt was coming automatically.
She started to tear at the flap of the envelope, not even going to search out her letter opener. She needed to know what was inside as if only certainty could assuage this uncontrollable emotion surging through her.
There were only nine words on the paper, all written in capital letters. No greeting. No signature. It simply said,
I AM NOT GETTING MARRIED. THE WEDDING IS OFF.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Rose dropped it on the floor as everything inside of her collapsed. The bubble imploded inwards, bringing a wave of sadness, desperation, hurt, and pain into her solar plexus. All the feelings she had been holding at bay since the evening in the drawing room with the Canterburys, and before, suddenly struck and floored her. As she looked down at the piece of paper on the floor, tears welled up in her chest, coming up into her throat, and began spilling down her cheeks. Great big fat tears soaking her face and dripping onto her dress. She gulped to try to contain them, but it was impossible to stem the flow. She started to sob, heart-wrenching sobs wracking her body, as she collapsed down onto the pile of books.
Jennings came quickly into the library.
“Your Grace, what is it? What is wrong?”
She saw him bend down to pick up the letter and envelope from the floor and pretend not to read it, but she knew he had seen it. The words were written in huge letters.