Chapter 12

"Oh, Mr. Hancock!" Rose exclaimed upon seeing the man leave the stables and head towards the house. "Please, may I have a word?"

He turned around in time to both see her and hear her, but she could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't particularly keen on discussing anything with her. Still, he stopped and waited for her to approach him.

Rose's heart was beating nervously as she wondered if she should even ask. Perhaps not. Perhaps it would be too early. After all, her brother had been there only a single day, his work being to help out in the stables. Asking if he had done a good job seemed like a superfluous question that couldn't have a reasonable answer yet. Still, curiosity won over.

"I'm sorry to intercept you like this, but I wanted to ask about my brother."

"What about him?" Mr. Hancock wondered, his face stern, his lips tightly pressed against each other and his manner grave. There was nothing about him that left even the smallest opening for a hope that he might ever become a friend.

"Well," she started apprehensively, "I know it was just his first day today, but I was wondering if you feel he did a good job. I mean, with the duties you have given him, and taking everything into account, and I know—"

"Apparently," he interrupted her, after which she immediately stopped talking, realizing that she was mumbling without much sense, which didn't help her brother at all. "He did… well."

"Well?" Rose smiled, her eyes widening at the word. Never in her entire life had the word enthused her so, mostly for the fact that she knew Mr. Hancock would never lavish higher praise upon either her or his brother. Well was more than she could have hoped for. "Thank you, Mr. Hancock."

"Yes," he nodded curtly. "But one day's praise means nothing the following day," he reminded her.

"Of course," she agreed. "I couldn't agree more."

"If that is all…" he said, his voice trailing off. He was already half turned away from her, returning to his task.

"Yes, yes, of course," she nodded. "I just wish to go and see His Grace, to bid him good evening before I go."

Mr. Hancock raised an eyebrow in disapproval. "I could tell His Grace that you have left."

"Oh, well…" His suggestion caught her off guard. The truth was, she wanted to tell him that herself. "If you don't mind, I would like to do that myself. My late parents have always taught me manners, and when one leaves someone's home, the proper thing is to say goodbye. Also, I would like to thank him again for the opportunity he had so generously given to my brother."

Mr. Hancock didn't seem to like that very much, but he didn't argue. She appreciated that.

"Very well," he said instead. "His Grace is in his study."

"Thank you, Mr. Hancock," Rose smile with gratitude, although the man obviously didn't like either her or her brother. He had made that perfectly clear from the moment he laid eyes on her. "I shall head there immediately."

Mr. Hancock didn't say anything. Instead, he turned around and disappeared into the house. Rose shook her head to herself with a smile. The man was filled with prejudices without basing them on anything.

Well, not really, a little voice inside reminded her. The gossip from the village was enough of a deterrent to him. After all, she and her brother were from that same village. He couldn't know whether they believed the rumors, or whether they spread them themselves. The man was a loyal servant, and if nothing else, Rose could appreciate at least that much about him.

Rose entered the mansion, climbing up the grand stairwell. She had not seen William all day, and despite all common sense, a knot of worry formed in her chest. She knew that he had a visitor that morning, who claimed to be an old friend of the duke's. Curiosity poked at her from all sides as she wondered what their conversation had entailed. Perhaps a trip down memory lane?

Making her way through the quiet halls, she finally reached his study. Mustering the courage, her hand lingered a few inches away from the door when she finally knocked. A moment later, she could hear his voice from inside.

"Yes?" he called out.

She gently opened the door, revealing herself. "I beg your pardon, Your Grace, I hope I am not interrupting…"

"Ah, Rose," he said, looking up from his desk. His face was pale and there was a drawn look about his eyes that made her heart ache. "Do come in."

"I just wanted to let you know that my brother and I are done for the day and we shall be leaving," she told him. "We will, of course, be back in the morning."

"Yes, of course," he nodded. "That is fine. Good night."

She was about to leave when she noticed the pallor of his face and the way his shoulders slumped. Concern flared in her eyes. She wondered if he was having an onslaught of pain again, but being the stoic man that he was, he tried to hide it from everyone, as he usually did.

"Are you feeling well, Your Grace?" she inquired gently. "If you don't mind me saying, but you look a little pale."

He forced a smile, although it did not reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Rose. Thank you for asking." He paused for a moment or two, then he continued. "It is getting late. You and your brother should leave before it gets too dark outside. The roads can be a dangerous place."

Rose wasn't convinced. There was a lingering sadness in his expression that she couldn't ignore. "It is not that late," she told him, suddenly remembering something. "Please, stay here. I'll be right back."

He opened his mouth to say something, but the unapologetic firmness of her gaze stopped him. "Please," she urged again.

He sighed and nodded, remaining seated in his leather chair. Rose hurried out of his study. How silly of me, she thought to herself. I should have done this immediately upon arriving today.

She rushed through the corridors with a determined stride, heading towards the servants' quarters. She couldn't shake the image of his pale face and sad, exhausted eyes. She scolded herself again for not having done this earlier, but her duties had kept her occupied throughout the entire day.

In the small, bustling kitchen, she quickly set about making a pot of tea. She retrieved the willow bark she had brought with her, a remedy she often relied on for its soothing properties.

The familiar scent of the brewing tea filled the air, and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief. Once the tea was ready, Rose poured it into a delicate china tea cup, carefully balancing it on a tray with a small pot of honey and a spoon. She hurried back to William's study, her heart pounding with a mix of worry and hope.

She knocked gently on the door, then opened it, not waiting to be called inside. She approached him as he looked up, his expression softening at the sight of her and the tray with the steaming cup of tea.

"Here," she said gently, setting the tray down and picking up the cup. "Drink this."

"What is it?" he asked, looking at the offered cup.

"Oh, it's tea made with willow bark," she explained. "It is an old remedy that should help ease your pain."

He shook his head. "I have pains which no tea can cure, Rose."

As he took the cup from her, their fingers brushed for a moment. A sudden, unexpected jolt of attraction startled Rose, and she felt her heart race. She had no idea such a simple touch could affect her so profoundly, awakening a million little goosebumps which rushed down her back, then disappeared, leaving a slightly trembling body and mind in their wake.

She looked up, meeting his eyes, silently searching for a sign that he felt it, too. She had no idea why. A part of her didn't want to be alone in this unexpected attraction that took her completely off guard. The spark remained as a titillating reminder that just like her, he was human, made of flesh and blood. She wondered if he had sensed the same spark, if the same sensations had been awakened inside of him as well.

"But… thank you," he said, his voice sincere. "I appreciate this."

Rose hastily dismissed the thought, forcing herself to look away as she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "It's really nothing," she replied, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts. "I hope you won't take this the wrong way, Your Grace, but you need to take better care of yourself. You endure your pain, but there are ways to alleviate it."

He nodded, taking a sip of the tea. "Perhaps. But if the pain will always be with you, isn't it better to get used to it?"

His words caught her off guard. There was some truth in them, but at the same time, she couldn't agree.

"Life shouldn't be a process of adjusting to pain," she reminded him.

"Adjusting means you stop paying so much attention to it," he said with a shrug. "It becomes a part of your life and you accept it as such. Making it go away feels like you are fighting all the time."

"Life is about fighting," she could agree with that. She was on the verge of sharing with him the story of how she lost her parents, but she thought it would symbolize the crossing of a certain boundary. After all, she was merely an employee in his manor. Nothing else. "But that doesn't mean that you have to endure what you can lessen to a certain degree."

He smiled that time. "All right, Rose. Would you please bring some more of this… tree bark, so I can try it and see how it affects me?"

"Of course," she smiled back, joyful that she could help. "I will be happy to do so."

"Thank you," he nodded. "Are you—"

His words were interrupted abruptly by the sound of breaking glass. A stone, large and menacing, smashed through one of the windows right beside them. Instinctively, William reacted. He reached out and pulled Rose into his arms, shielding her from the flying shards.

"Stay down," he commanded, his voice low and urgent as he maneuvered them both further away from the windows.

Rose felt the strength and warmth of his embrace, her heart pounding not just from the sudden danger but from the intense proximity to William. She clung to him, her breath quick and shallow, as they crouched together in the safety of the room's corner. She had never felt this way before. Her entire body was awash in senses as she inhaled his masculine scent, burying her face in his chest.

William's protective hold tightened, his eyes darting about the room for any further threats. "Are you all right?" he whispered tenderly; his voice filled with concern.

Rose nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "Yes, I… I think so," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly.

He looked down at her, his face close to hers, their breaths mingling. The danger had brought them even closer, the heat of the moment making every sensation more acute. For a moment, everything else faded away—the broken window, the stone, the danger. It was just the two of them, wrapped in a protective, intimate embrace. Rose felt a surge of emotions, a mix of fear, gratitude, and something deeper, something she couldn't quite name.

Rose cautiously peeked through the broken window, in hopes of seeing who the perpetrators were. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized one of the boys running away. It was her brother. Horror and shame washed over her, mingling with a deep sense of guilt. How could he have done such a reckless thing… again?

She turned back to William, fear evident in her eyes. Had he seen her brother, too? Her heart pounded as she met his gaze. His eyes were fixed on her, an intensity in them that took her breath away. The tension from before returned with a vengeance, amplified by the gravity of the situation and their intimate proximity.

William's arms were still around her, holding her close. The protective embrace had shifted into something more charged, more dangerous. She could feel his breath on her face, could see the conflicted emotions flickering in his eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her.

The air between them seemed to crackle with unresolved tension. Rose's mind raced, torn between the guilt of her brother's actions and the undeniable pull she felt towards William. The world outside the broken window faded away, leaving just the two of them in a charged, breathless moment.

"Rose," William murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. He leaned in slightly, his eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn't quite decipher.

She could barely think, her senses overwhelmed by his closeness. "William, I..."

Before she could finish, a knock on the door interrupted her. "Your Grace, are you all right?" It was Mr. Hancock.

The sudden intrusion broke the spell. William stepped back, his arms falling to his sides, his expression quickly shifting to one of controlled composure. Rose felt a mixture of relief and disappointment as the charged moment dissipated.

"We're all right, Mr. Hancock," William announced, walking over to the door and opening them. "Please, see to it that the window is secured and have someone investigate outside."

Mr. Hancock nodded and hurried off, leaving Rose and William alone once more. The tension lingered, but now it was tinged with the awkwardness of their interrupted moment. Rose straightened her dress, her mind still reeling from the rush of emotions.

"I… I should go," Rose managed to muster. "It is late and I don't wish to keep you any longer."

There was a longing look in his eyes, a visible struggle as if he were battling with himself over something unsaid. He seemed on the verge of speaking, but then he took a deep breath and said, "Rose, I think it would be best if you stayed here tonight. It might not be safe outside. It was probably children who did this, but we can't be sure."

Rose's heart pounded in her chest. She desperately wanted to get away, to make sense of everything that had just happened, but she couldn't reveal the real reason she knew she'd be safe outside. She could see the genuine concern in William's eyes, the worry etched into his features.

"All right," she agreed quietly, and half an hour later, she was left alone in the guest room.

Her thoughts drifted to the look in William's eyes as he had urged her to stay. There was more than just concern; there was a depth of feeling she couldn't quite name. She felt a strange mix of fear and excitement, a longing she didn't fully understand. The touch of his fingers still lingered on her skin, a reminder of the connection that had sparked between them.