Chapter 4

"Work for you?" she echoed his proposition.

He had to admit that he didn't even hesitate to ask her. It seemed like the most logical solution to her predicament.

"Yes," he said without even the slightest hint of a doubt in his voice. "It would be safer than wandering through the woods on your own, and it also pays well."

She looked at him incredulously, as if she still couldn't believe that he was asking her that. Come to think of it, the reality of the situation was slowly dawning on him as well, and he came to realize what he had just done. Ever since he came back from the war, he had closed off his home to everyone who wasn't a necessity. That meant cutting down his staff to only the bare minimum. Now, he was doing exactly the opposite: offering a position to someone he knew nothing about, therefore once again, opening his door.

Strangely enough, he didn't want to revoke his offer. But having thought about it, the offer also frightened him. It was not like him to jump into situations in such a manner or make decisions on the spur of the moment. This was something completely new to him.

"But… you know nothing about me," she reminded him.

"I know your name," he said. "And I know you work with your aunt as a healer. No one who is a healer can be a bad person."

His conclusion made her smile. "Is that what you believe?"

"Yes," he said, nodding in additional confirmation.

She tilted her head a little, as if to take a closer look at him. "What if you're wrong and… I'm a thief?"

He chuckled at her theory. "There's not much left to steal here, to be honest. It all looks beautiful at first glance, but everything you see in this house is old and worn out, much like the owner himself."

"You're not old," she reminded him.

"Just worn out?" he asked, unable to resist teasing her.

"No," she replied, her eyes widening in shock at the possibility that she might have offended him without meaning to. "That's not what I meant at all. I just… meant, you're not old and, of course, logically, you cannot be worn out, either."

He liked seeing her confused and blushing. It made her all the more beautiful. But he wisely kept that conclusion to himself.

"Actually, the two aren't mutually exclusive," he revealed. "But someone as sweet and na?ve as you couldn't possibly know much about that."

From the look on her face, he realized that he had crossed the line. He had, without meaning to, offended her. She tried to get up, but she was too weak, so he rushed to help her, but she lifted her arm at him to refuse his help.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Also, someone's age doesn't keep him immune to the harshness of life."

He thought she would offer some explanation, some glimpse into who she was, but she didn't, much to his disappointment.

"That is true," he agreed. "That is why we need to be kind to one another when life refuses to be. Will you accept my offer, Rose?"

Her face softened as she gazed at him, her long eyelashes blinking quickly as if to ward off sleep and drowsiness.

"May I think about it first?" she asked. "I would like to discuss it with my aunt and brother first." Her eyes widened in shock upon mentioning them. "Oh, they must be dreadfully worried about me! I must go home immediately!"

"No, no, absolutely not," he shook his head. "I insist that you stay the night, since it is already late. By the time you head back, it will be dark. I cannot, in good conscience, let you leave, Rose, especially not in your state."

"Oh, no, I cannot stay," she tried to refuse his offer. "I do appreciate it, but I simply cannot. My aunt and brother, they will—"

"Be notified immediately of your stay here," he interrupted her. "I shall send word at once."

"I really should get going," she said, endeavoring to get up again, but she fell back into the chaise lounge, obviously still feeling lightheaded.

"I really think you should stay, for your own good," he reminded her. "A good night's rest will do you good."

He could see that she was fighting herself, deciding what would be the best course of action. But eventually, she came to the same conclusion as he did.

"Will you send word to my family, so they don't worry about me?" she asked again.

"Of course," he nodded. "Would you like to write them a letter yourself?"

"Oh no, no," she shook her head. "Just sending someone over with news of my whereabouts would be enough."

"As you wish," he nodded, locking his hands behind his back. "My steward, Mr. Hancock, will make all the arrangements."

"Thank you," she said. "I shall leave first thing in the morning. I don't want to be a burden to you any more than I already have."

"You have not been a burden at all," he reassured her.

The truth was that he welcomed the little adventure that had befallen him, although he still couldn't tell where all that would lead him.

"I was happy to help," he replied.

"Thank you," she smiled, then she looked surprised. "I don't think I've said that yet."

"You haven't," he smiled. He couldn't believe that, for one precious moment during this conversation, he was able to forget all about his scars and talk to her as if he were a normal person, and not the monster they deemed him to be.

"I… I'm really grateful for what you've done," she added. "If you hadn't found me…"

"Your aunt and brother would have," he finished her sentence in a hopeful manner, although both of them knew that was possible, although not probable. The boar problems were indeed becoming greater and greater, and he hated knowing that she was wandering the woods on her own. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if something happened to her.

But… why? He tried to explain it to himself that it was simply the right thing to do. But there was more to it. She was the first woman… no, the first person who didn't react with disgust to him. There was something about the softness of her voice, the kindness in her eyes that made him believe she was not like the rest of the village people.

At that point, a knock on the door sounded Mr. Hancock's arrival.

"You called, Your Grace?" he asked.

"Yes, Hancock," he nodded. "We are having a guest for the evening."

"A guest?" Hancock gasped, but he quickly regained composure. "Of course, Your Grace. Shall I show our guest to the guest chamber?"

"Yes, please," William confirmed.

Mr. Hancock turned to Rose, bowing once respectfully. "Please, follow me, Miss."

Upon those words, he left the drawing room and Rose hastily glanced at William, before disappearing into the hallway. William inhaled deeply, raking his fingers through his hair.

What have you done? He thought to himself, only he had no answer to that.

***

Rose couldn't stop thinking about her family. She wondered what they were doing, if they were already wondering where she was and why she hadn't returned home. She relied on the duke's promise that he would send word to them immediately. As she followed Mr. Hancock to her guestroom, she couldn't ignore the stiffness in his demeanor.

"It's this way, Miss," he said briskly, barely sparing her a glance as he led her down the hallway.

Feeling a need to break the silence, Rose ventured. "Thank you, Mr. Hancock, for showing me to my guestroom. The estate is quite impressive."

He merely grunted in response, his lips forming a thin line of disapproval. "Impressive to some, perhaps," he muttered under his breath, though Rose caught the edge of his tone.

Caught off guard by his cryptic remark, Rose frowned slightly. "Pardon me?"

Mr. Hancock paused, his gaze flicking briefly over Rose before settling on the door to the guestroom. "Nothing, Miss, just… not everyone appreciates the grandeur of these walls, preferring to stir trouble instead," he replied, his voice dripping with obvious disdain.

She knew what he was referring to. It was obvious that Mr. Hancock was not fond of the village gossip and stories, and rightfully so. Any loyal steward should be the same with his master. So, she decided not to take offence at his obvious dislike of her, which stemmed solely from the fact that she was from the village.

"I assure you that I did not come here to stir trouble, Mr. Hancock," she decided not to be antagonistic with the man, but exactly the opposite. She didn't want to make him her enemy, especially in light of her new employment offer.

"Here we are," Mr. Hancock said, opening a nearby door, ignoring her comment. "There are some clean clothes in the wardrobe, which you are welcome to help yourself to. I trust you will be comfortable here, miss."

"I most certainly will," Rose nodded. "Thank you."

"You may call for the servant girl if you need anything," he added hastily, as if he needed to say what he had to say as quickly as possible, and then he could take his leave.

"Maybe some tea," she mused, glancing at a rope in the corner of the room. She instinctively patted her little herb bag, joyfully realizing it was still on her. She would be able to make some herbal tea, which should help soothe her body as well as mind, and help her sleep better.

"Of course," he nodded. "I shall call you for dinner when it is set."

"Oh, thank you, but I am not really hungry…" she said politely.

He frowned. "As you wish. Now, if that would be all…"

"Yes, that would be all, thank you," she repeated, watching him bow like a broken branch that popped again into its place, but was still broken.

As he closed the door behind her, she found herself alone in the guest chamber, the weight of the duke's offer lingering in the air. With a heavy sigh, she sank onto the edge of the plush bed, her mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. Would working here, for the duke, be the right decision? She couldn't tell.

It was obvious that she was not welcome there. Mr. Hancock had made that perfectly clear. She wondered if all the others employed there were the same. Was it worth subjecting herself to the scrutiny and hostility of those who viewed her as an outsider? Lost in her thoughts, she weighed the pros and cons, her heart torn between her desire to seize the opportunity to make a better life for her family and the fear of leaving them behind on this new path.

As she gazed around the elegantly appointed guest chamber, a glimmer of determination flickered in her eyes. Perhaps working there might not be easy, but she was no stranger to hard work and perseverance. And besides, they needed the money desperately. Rose knew that her aunt was keeping the severity of their living situation hidden from both her and her brother. But Rose could tell. Her aunt was no longer a young woman. She had ailments of her own. She needed to be taken care of. Rose and Henry owed her at least that much for what she did for them. Rose knew that the only way she could help her family was to accept the duke's proposition.

With those thoughts, she headed towards the wardrobe. Her own dress was torn and muddy, and she hated going to bed like that, soiling the duke's nice, clean sheets. She opened the wardrobe, gasping at the loveliness of the gowns hanging inside. Her fingers gently caressed the fabric, the sensations washing over her. She stopped at a lovely, lavender colored nightgown, taking it out and proceeding to change her clothes.