Chapter 7

Three days had passed, but William felt as if three entire years took place instead. That morning, he was sitting in his study attempting to immerse himself in a book, just as he had been endeavoring to focus on some business matters the previous day. The words on the page seemed to conspire against him, blurring together, refusing to make any sense, as his own focus slipped every few seconds.

He sighed heavily, closing the book. It was evident that his mind was still consumed with thoughts of Rose. She had left early the morning after he had stayed over, slipping away before he had a chance to speak to her. The time they had spent together was all too brief, but he knew that even if he never saw her again, he would never forget her.

Strangely enough, the thought of never seeing her again brought him much displeasure. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Mr. Hancock had informed him that Rose left very early, assuring William that she looked quite well when he escorted her home. This information offered a small measure of relief, but William still couldn't stop thinking about her and whether she was all right. He realized she must have had obligations to tend to, but the thought that he might have made her uncomfortable that evening weighed heavily on his mind.

He got up, pacing about the study like a caged animal, raking his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking, talking to her so late at night? His thoughts lingered on her tantalizing silhouette underneath the thin fabric of her robe, as he kept reverting to that scene in his mind.

He, a strange man marked by horrible scars, had imposed on her privacy. The image of her in her robe haunted him, a poignant reminder of how lovely, how sweet, how vulnerable and out of place she must have felt.

He sighed heavily, clenching his fists, as frustration and guilt mingled in his chest. She must have been so embarrassed. It made complete sense why she couldn't wait to get away from him fast enough the following day, leaving without even saying goodbye. He pictured her hurried departure, imagining her eagerness to escape the awkwardness and discomfort he had unwittingly caused.

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted him. He knew who it was immediately.

"Come in," he called to Mr. Hancock, who appeared a moment later.

"I apologize for the intrusion, Your Grace, but you have a letter as well as a visitor," he informed him.

"A letter and a visitor?" William mused incredulously. "That is more than I have had in the year prior all together."

Mr. Hancock, as always, did not smile. In fact, William wondered if the man even knew how to smile. He didn't mind it, though. Mr. Hancock had been with his family his entire life, and William trusted him more than anyone else. That had nothing to do with whether the man knew how to smile or not.

"This is the letter in question, Your Grace," Mr. Hancock approached, offering him the letter, which William accepted.

"Thank you, Hancock," William acknowledged, taking a closer, more introspective glance at it.

He was surprised to see it was from his old friend, Stephen Trent, the son of Viscount Fulton. He hadn't heard from Stephen since he returned from the war, and even without having opened the letter, a mix of emotions stormed inside of him. There was surprise, curiosity, and a pang of guilt for having lost touch with Stephen. Their shared experiences during the war, the camaraderie, and the hardships they endured together had once been the cornerstones of his life. But after coming back, scarred and changed, he had withdrawn from those connections, from everyone.

"And what of your visitor, Your Grace?" Mr. Hancock interrupted William's flow of thought.

"Oh, yes," William snapped back to reality, having completely forgotten about that part. "Who is it?"

"It is Miss Rose Browning, Your Grace," Mr. Hancock spoke with much annoyance, and it didn't escape William's notice.

William, on the other hand, felt exactly the opposite upon hearing her name.

"I have informed her that you do not take visits from people from the village," Mr. Hancock reminded William of his own orders, "but she insisted on seeing you."

William's heart was beating faster at the mention of Rose. However, he quickly composed himself, trying to contain his excitement. "Yes, we have a business matter to discuss, Hancock. Please, show her in."

Mr. Hancock nodded curtly and then left the room. William inhaled deeply, smoothing his clothes and running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. He could hardly believe that Rose was there, and after the uncertainty and guilt that had been swarming inside his mind, he now had a chance to see her again and perhaps even right some wrongs.

A moment later, the door opened and Mr. Hancock walked in with Rose. "Miss Rose Browning for you, Your Grace," Mr. Hancock spoke as if every word of it was causing him actual physical pain.

"Thank you, Hancock," William nodded. "That will be all."

Mr. Hancock lingered there for a few moments, almost as if he refused to leave his master in the company of his guest, but eventually, he nodded and left them alone. William looked at Rose approaching her. She looked poised and slightly apprehensive, but there was a certain determination in her eyes. William's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.

"Rose," he said. "Welcome back."

It didn't even occur to him to refer to her in any way other than her given name. He had saved her life. That earned him that right.

Rose offered a small smile, although her expression remained serious. "Your Grace, I do apologize for appearing unannounced. But I felt it was important to speak with you."

"Of course," he assured her, gesturing at a chair near his writing table. "Please, take a seat. I am happy you came."

That much was true. It was as if he had beckoned her to come with the sheer power of his mind. And now she was here, right in front of him.

She took the offered seat, and William sat down opposite her, his earlier thoughts about their last encounter flooding him. He wanted to apologize, to explain, but he didn't know where to start. Perhaps he would be able to weave it all into the conversation effortlessly as it flowed. She had obviously come to him to share something, so he needed to listen to her first and see what she had to say.

"I… I wanted to apologize first for leaving so abruptly the other morning," she began, looking apologetic and apprehensive. "It wasn't my intention to cause any distress or seem ungrateful. I merely wished to go home and assure my family that everything was all right."

William shook his head. "There is no need to apologize, Rose. I… I was worried that it was me who made you uncomfortable. It is I who should be apologizing."

This time, she smiled wider. And there was a sparkle of something in her eyes, something that was aimed at him.

"There is no need for you to apologize either," she told him kindly.

"How have you been?" he asked, steering the conversation away from apologies and to more neutral ground, feeling more awkward than he thought he would be. However, he also felt relieved seeing her again and in such a good mood.

"Good, thank you," she replied with a smile.

"Is your head all right?" he asked with much concern and tenderness, unable to conceal it. "Does it hurt?"

"No, no," she assured him. "My aunt has been taking very good care of me."

"I can see that," he smiled.

She smiled back, inhaling deeply, her eyes widening as if she were mustering the courage to say what would come next. "Your Grace," she continued, carefully selecting her words, "the reason I have come to you this morning is to tell you that I would like to take you up on your offer of employment."

He stifled a gasp, swallowing it back inside of himself, as his eyes widened for only a brief moment. When she noticed that he wasn't extending any response, she quickly added.

"Of course, if your offer is still available," she told him.

"Yes, yes," he nodded, swallowing heavily. "It is."

"Well then, I would be happy to work here, at Montford Manor," she said a little awkwardly, her hands resting in her lap.

"Yes," he repeated, feeling ridiculous, but his mind could not conjure up a proper sentence for the next couple of seconds. Finally, he regained his composure and continued. "That is splendid news, I must say. It makes me happy knowing that you won't be roaming the woods on your own."

"Lest you might need to save me again?" she asked playfully, catching him off guard with her question.

When he locked eyes with her, he could see a slight blush on her cheeks. She looked absolutely ravishing when she was slightly shy and endeavored to be bold.

"Exactly," he chuckled, unable to resist the temptation to do so.

It was then that her smile faded away, as she turned grave, almost as if she remembered someone else who needed saving. "There is something else I wanted to ask, Your Grace."

"What is it?" he wondered.

"My brother, Henry," she started, faltering only a little. "He is only fourteen, but he is a good boy, very capable and hardworking. Would it be possible for him to also work here at the manor?"

William was taken aback by her request. The idea of having someone else, some stranger from the village, in his home unsettled him. His manor had become a sanctuary, a place where he could retreat from the world and its harsh, judgmental eyes. Having Rose there was somehow different. There was something about her kindness of spirit and her perspective on the world that calmed him. But extending that trust to someone he had never met was a daunting prospect.

He also remembered the incident from several days ago, when a group of boys from the village broke his window, and he accidentally hit one of them. Was her brother one of those boys? Even worse, was he the one William had struck by accident?

He studied Rose's face, seeing the earnestness in her eyes. This wasn't just a casual request. It was important to her. He immediately felt a conflict within himself, his instinct to keep his world closed off, clashing with his desire to help Rose.

"Rose," he began slowly, choosing his words very cautiously, "I must admit, I'm not used to having new people in my home. It has been a private place for me since… well, since I returned from the war."

Rose nodded; her expression full of sympathy. "I can understand that, Your Grace. But I assure you that my brother is a good boy. He is respectful and diligent. I wouldn't ask if I didn't believe that he could be of help around the mansion."

William sighed, feeling the weight of the decision. "I cannot promise you that, Rose," he admitted. "But I can promise you that I will think about it."

"That is all I ask," she replied, her face softening with gratitude. "I can come back tomorrow, if that is suitable."

"Absolutely," he nodded. "I can send a carriage to fetch you."

"Oh, that's fine, I can walk," she smiled.

"No, I insist," he told her, getting up. "I won't have you walking all the way here every day."

"I am used to walking," she smiled sweetly.

"Still," he assured her. "Please allow me to make you as comfortable as I can from your first day of employment here."

"Thank you," she smiled, nodding quickly. "I shall see you tomorrow, then."

"Mr. Hancock will be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs to show you out." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Until tomorrow, Rose," he said, pronouncing her name every time with much delight.

He watched her close the door behind her, leaving him both petrified and thrilled about the future that was to befall him.