Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

“ C lara, look, I have curves!”

Rosalie was standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom while her lady’s maid did up her stays, staring in surprise and awe at the figure she saw reflected in it.

“Do you see, Clara? I’m no longer as flat as a washboard!”

Clara chuckled as she pulled the strings of the stays tighter which enhanced the curves even more.

“Yes, I’ve noticed, Your Grace,” she said. “I’ve been noticing for a week now! You are looking very healthy and curvaceous indeed.”

“You really think so?” Rosalie beamed, her cheeks blushing slightly at the thought of how womanly her body now looked. She had never thought of herself as womanly before; because she ate so little, her body had always seemed childlike to her, bony and awkward, gangly, even. But now, as she turned this way and that in the mirror, she felt beautiful.

“It’s all the food His Grace is feeding you,” Clara noted. She finished lacing up the stays and retrieved the petticoat from the bed. “He has been very thoughtful to have his cook make the most delicious, decadent meals possible.”

“The food is very well done,” Rosalie conceded. “And he is always eager to have me eat.” She bit her lip as she examined herself again in the mirror. “Yesterday he told me a story about his mother and how she didn’t eat much because of her husband’s criticisms.”

Clara paused, and her eyes met Rosalie’s in the mirror. The two of them had never spoken about Rosalie’s ‘lack of appetite’ as she called it, but Rosalie knew that her lady’s maid had always been concerned by how little she ate.

“That must be why he is so thoughtful to make sure you eat enough,” Clara said at last. “He knows how dangerous it is for women to not eat enough. They waste away. And it isn’t good for carrying babies, either.”

Rosalie nodded but said nothing. This was not an easy subject for her to discuss, and she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to say anything else on the subject.

Instead, she went back to admiring her new curves in the mirror. Rosalie had never seen herself like this before. Her arms were not sticks anymore but actually rounded and soft; her stomach swelled outward, making her look round and healthy; her chest… well, she blushed again thinking about that. It had never looked better with the stays fastened tight around her.

“I think I should do something for the Duke,” she decided as she surveyed herself. “It’s thanks to him that I’m feeling strong and healthy for the first time in my life. I’d like to show him my gratitude.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Clara beamed. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Well… I suppose it might be helpful to get the castle fixed up more.” She glanced around at the room. By now, she was used to it, but it certainly wouldn’t do for them to keep staying in a small guest room forever. “He certainly liked the new breakfast room. I think he would really enjoy it if the place felt more like home, and it would show him that I see this place as a home as well.”

Clara looked uncertain. “Aren’t there parts of the house that he has asked you not to enter?”

“Well… yes. But I can try to avoid those and just focus on the other wings.”

“Well then!” Clara clapped her hands together. “It sounds like an exciting project!”

So after breakfast, the two of them set off through the castle to try and identify what spots needed to be fixed. Rosalie knew she would have to consult with the steward and the butler eventually, too, but once she told them what she was up to, word was bound to get back to her husband, and she wanted this project to be a surprise for the Duke.

The castle was bigger than she realized, and as she and Clara explored the upper hallways, she was surprised to realize how little of it she actually knew.

“I’ve been living in just a tiny fraction of this place,” she said as she opened the door to a room which, she was shocked to see, was full of old, dented, rusting suits of armor. “There’s so much more to it than I ever imagined! Some of this stuff must have been in his family since the middle ages!”

“It really is quite a maze,” Clara agreed. “And so dusty! It will take ages to have all of this cleaned.”

“I think we should focus on repairs rather than cleaning.”

Rosalie closed the door behind her and had just turned to the next one when a footman rounded the corner holding a silver tray. There was a letter on it, and he held it out to her.

“A letter came for you, Your Grace,” he said.

“Thank you, Thomas.” She took the letter and broke open the seal. A quick scan of it and her heart sank: it was from Lord Cain:

Dear Rosalie,

Our last meeting left me shattered. I am horrified when I remember how I spoke to you. The things that I said do not reflect the real me or the sincere depth of my feelings for you. My dearest Rosalie, you must allow me to apologize and to beg for you to reconsider me as a prospective friend and consort.

As you know, I have come into my Barony now, and I am in a position to provide for you. As a Duchess, you require a certain lifestyle from any consort that you might take, and I promise you that I can provide that lifestyle. If you wish to have a great library built, I shall build it for you. If you want to travel to the continent, I can take you; wherever and whatever your heart desires, I am here to fulfill it.

I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me and give me another chance. Everything I do is for you, and I know that someday, my efforts will be rewarded, and you will see that I have always been the only man to always love you.

Yours forever,

Lord Cain

Rosalie’s fingers were numb as she lowered the letter. A strange buzzing sound was filling her ears. She wasn’t sure if it was rage or fear, maybe both. Lord Cain was still pursuing her, even after he had accused her of being a loose woman and said he was glad to have avoided marriage with her.

“What is it, Your Grace?” Clara asked at once, registering the look on her face.

“It is from Lord Cain,” Rosalie said, and she handed the letter to Clara, who took it at once and began to read.

Her face went redder and redder as she read. “How despicable!” Clara seethed, once she’d finished. “How dare he write to you and say such forward things! You are a married woman and a duchess!”

“He has always had too much nerve,” Rosalie said. She had begun to shake, and she tried to take several deep, calming breaths in order to restore her equilibrium. “Even when we first met, he was far more bold and confident than he was actually handsome or charming. I think that confidence blinded me to his many flaws!”

“Well, you are aware of them now.” Clara handed her back the letter. “I say you tear that up and tell the butler never to allow another letter from that scoundrel.”

“Yes, you’re right. I need a fire, actually. I’d like to burn it.”

“There is one lit in the parlor; shall we make our way down there?”

Rosalie allowed Clara to steer her down to the parlor. She was still somewhat in shock from receiving the letter, but once she threw it into the dancing flames of the fire, she felt a little better. Watching the edges of it curl, catch fire, and then turn to ash was surprisingly satisfying.

“He is a terrible man,” she observed, and Clara nodded.

“I hope this is the end of him. For your sake and his.”

“His?” Rosalie asked, surprised.

Clara pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t like to see what the Beast of Carramere would do to him if he read that letter.”

Rosalie had to laugh. It was amusing to think of her husband putting Lord Cain in his place. However, she didn’t want him to know about the letter. Not when things were going so well between them. It would only sour the tentative friendship they seemed to have developed since she had won over Lord Redfield.

“Let’s continue the tour of the house,” she said as the fire consumed the last bit of paper. “I am more determined than ever now to show the Duke how much I appreciate him. He might not be perfect, but I am very grateful that he is not Lord Cain.”

And because I know he will always protect me from Lord Cain , she added to herself.

They continued on with the tour of the castle, wandering farther and farther away from the center. Rosalie was hardly paying attention to where she was going. Her mind was still fixated on the letter and her fury at Lord Cain. How dare he write her here at her husband’s ancestral home, asking to be her lover. He had no shame, no respect, and all after trying to shame her for what had happened in the library at Violet’s ball!

She felt her hands curl into fists, and without thinking, she pushed open a door that had turned black with rot only to find herself standing in a gutted room she had never been in before.

Slowly, she stepped into the room and looked around. The walls and stone floors were black, and there was a horrible acrid smell in the place as if it had been burned.

Burned. Was there a fire in here?

She looked around more closely. There seemed to be scorch marks on the wall, and the curtains were completely gone from the windows. All that remained were a few burned wooden rings that looked as if they had once held fabric. The windows themselves were smudged with black. Ash and smoke, she would guess.

“What is this place?” she said out loud as she stepped farther into the room. “And what happened here?”

She looked to her right and gasped. The wall of the room had been completely burned away, and she could see from this room into the corridor beyond and the room after that. Walls and floors were torn away, exposing rotting, charred beams. She felt as if she were in the remains of a fireplace, looking up at the leftover sticks from the perspective of a bug.

And then it hit her: I’m in the West Wing!

It wasn’t mold that had made this wing of the castle black from the outside. It was a fire! The West Wing of Carramere Castle had been burned almost to the ground!

“Your Grace, are you all right?” Clara’s voice sounded from the doorway, and Rosalie jumped. She had completely forgotten that Clara was with her. But as she turned, a terrible sound filled the room, like something cracking. At the same time, the stones beneath Rosalie’s feet began to move, and she felt the whole ground jolt backward, taking her with it.

“Ahhhh!” Her scream filled her ears, reverberating off the stones as she fell backwards, hitting her knee hard against the stone beneath her.

But the floor was caving in. She could feel it rolling underneath her feet, pulling her back toward the center where stones were beginning to fall downward, as if the floor beneath them had completely collapsed.

“Your Grace! Rosalie!” She heard Clara scream from the door.

“Help!” Rosalie shouted, but she was too far away to reach Clara, whose hand was outstretched toward her. She was sliding toward the hole in the ground where stones were falling through, and if she didn’t move now, the whole floor might cave in.

The window was just a few feet away, so she threw herself at it and gripped the windowsill as hard as she could. Seconds later, the middle of the floor gave out, and Rosalie screamed again. Only moments before, she had been standing right where there was now a gaping hole that stones were falling through. The rest of the floor tilted toward it, and she knew that if she let go of the windowsill, she would slide forward and fall.

“Your Grace!”

Rosalie looked up to see Clara standing across the now destroyed room, in the doorway, staring at her in horror. “Your Grace, are you all right?”

“I’m all right for now,” Rosalie said, “but I can’t hold onto this forever. Clara, you have to get help!”

She was trying not to look at the hole in front of her. It seemed to go several stories down, and she knew that if she let go, she would plunge down into its dark, inky depths. Her stomach was churning with nausea, and she had to stare straight ahead at Clara in order not to feel the panic seizing her.

“Clara, you have to get the Duke!”