Chapter 3

Metaphor Becomes Reality

R ose was utterly transfixed by the newcomers.

The Duke of Emberly was the tallest man she had ever seen, towering over everyone else in the room. His stride was purposeful and self-assured. While his clothes were somber shades of the deepest blue and grey, their elegance spoke of their cost. Each item was perfectly tailored, highlighting his powerful stature. He reminded Rose of one of the ancient Greek heroes.

There was something about him that spoke of danger and power. Rose frowned, trying to work out how the man seemed simultaneously a warrior and a gentleman. His face was severe, but his brown eyes seemed remarkably warm.

Like honey on a summer day.

Unlike his sister and mother, the Duke clearly felt no compunction to smile.

It seemed ludicrous to imagine anything as gentle as a smile on that sharp face, and yet Rose found herself trying to picture it all the same. She was dimly aware of Felicity whispering something to her mother, but she found she could not tear her attention away from the Duke and his family.

They had moved to the far corner, and her heart ached as she saw the young woman's smile falter and begin to fade as the dances progressed and no one approached her.

The injustice rankled Rose, and she felt sympathy well within her. She thought of her own sisters, Jane and Emily. Both younger and full of excitement for the future. She knew too well how her own actions and future could affect theirs.

If I fail, they will suffer. How can the Duke not see that his presence could harm his sister? Is he truly so selfish?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother's eyes following the newcomers. Lady Cotswalts made it her business to separate truth from fiction.

Her mother broke away from Miss Carstairs, confessing a desire to move around the room and asking Miss Carstairs to keep Rose company in her absence.

Rose was still watching the group as her mother departed, and she found herself relaxing as a young man approached the Duke's sister. He seemed to know the family, and Rose wondered who he was.

"That is Nigel Maxton, the Duke of Glassley, an old friend of the Duke of Emberly's. A very respectable family. A most ample fortune as well." Miss Carstairs was nodding approvingly. "Such a kind young man, to dance with the young lady."

Rose nodded, still watching the Duke and his mother. She was dimly aware of Lord Verimoor muttering something. She assumed he was responding to something Miss Carstairs said. She felt a hand grasp her arm firmly and tug her towards the dance floor.

"I believe, Miss Pembleton, it is time for our dance." Lord Verimoor pulled her towards the dancers, not bothering to wait for a reply. "Let us go."

Shock at his actions coursed through her, followed swiftly by anger.

How dare he grab me so? Pull me as though I am some horse to be led to a trough.

Without thinking, Rose whirled around, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "No. I do not want to dance," she spoke without thinking, her anger getting the better of her.

Lord Verimoor's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in displeasure. From behind him, Rose noticed the stares of those around her, including the disapproving look of her mother.

Oh God, what have I done?

In an instant, her anger left her, turning instead into intense shame. "My Lord, I am sorry. I did not mean… I… I-I must go. I am not feeling quite myself. Pray, forgive me. I-I must take the air. Yes, some fresh air will do me good."

Without waiting for a reply, Rose fled. She knew that by all rights, she should wait for a chaperone, but she found that the very air around her was stifling. She longed to be free, to be outside and away from the scene of her outburst.

Foolish, selfish girl. You cannot afford such mistakes. Think of your sisters, your family.

Rose felt a lump form in her throat.

I must not cry. It would be ridiculous to cry.

She was barely aware of leaving the ballroom until she felt the sting of the cool night air on her cheeks.

She did not slow down, instead making her way towards the ornate maze. The large hedgerows would be an excellent place for her to gather her thoughts, and she thought it unlikely to encounter anyone else.

There is a chill in the air, and no one would be foolish enough to leave the warmth. Not alone.

The gardens were mercifully empty, and Rose was glad, for company would only complicate matters. She did not want anyone to find her, so she went deeper into the maze.

She should not have let her temper get the better of her. Her mother had taught her better than that.

Mother .

She thought of her mother's disappointment, and her shame only deepened. Her mother would be furious.

Rose exhaled, and said aloud to a nearby statue, "We cannot all be perfect, Mother."

She was not sure why she was talking to the statue—it did not even look very much like her mother.

Some statue of Venus, I believe. Or Aphrodite, perhaps?

Yet, even as she acknowledged the lack of resemblance, she found herself unable to stop speaking.

"I am trying. I really am." She glared at the statue. "You were the daughter of a merchant, you have given up everything to make sure we can have everything we desire in life. You have worked for everything you have, and all you ask is for us to follow your example."

"Yet, how can I? You married Father for love, not just practicality. Yes, Father needed money, and your family was wealthy. And I know neither of you planned this life. After all, no one could have imagined Uncle John would succumb to illness."

Rose could not remember her uncle, for he had died when she was still very young, and her father did not often talk about him.

"But now this is our life, and I know that you value the opinion of the ton greatly and hold the position of our family dear. You want the world to see that you and Father are worthy of your title. Yet, why must I be punished for your own imprudence?" She whispered the words, hating herself as she said them. "Why is it always women who must pay for the folly of men?"

She sighed and rested her hand against the cool stone of the statue. "I do not want to let you down. But I do not know what to do." She felt the last remnants of her anger ebb away.

The statue remained unmoving, its expression unchanged.

Rose sighed. "And now, here I am, talking to a statue as though it were a person."

It feels good though, to have said it. And at least Mother will never know how truly selfish and wanting I am.

She laughed bitterly, glancing up at the stars in the sky. A cloud was passing over the moon, casting long shadows on the hedges. For a moment, she contemplated remaining in the garden. Yet, even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it.

I am the Diamond of the Season, and I will not let my family down. I must fix my mistakes.

She took a steadying breath and rolled her shoulders back. She stood straight and looked once more at the statue, before turning around and walking straight into a figure who had just emerged into the maze.

She gasped, and she heard an answering grunt from the man she had just collided with.

"My most sincere apologies!" Rose said once she caught her breath.

I am pressed up against a stranger, so close that I can barely see his face. I am sure he must feel my heart racing.

Rose did not know where to look, settling for turning her head to the side and peering down at the floor. Her mind seemed to be moving sluggishly. She needed to step away, to put some distance between them.

Why won't my legs move? What is wrong with me?

"There is no need for you to apologize, it is my own fault. I was so consumed by my thoughts that I paid no heed to my surroundings." The answering voice was a gentle baritone that seemed to vibrate through the man's chest. "In truth, I heard a woman's voice and did not want to intrude."

Rose felt a flush rise to her cheeks, the rumble of his voice a reminder of how close they were.

The scandal. If anyone finds us… But nothing untoward has happened. Oh! Oh, no! He heard my voice? I hope he did not hear what I said.

She tried to decide whether being discovered with this stranger or him thinking she was some kind of lunatic was worse. "Well, I would say this is an interesting way of not intruding."

The man laughed, and the vibration of the sound through her chest seemed to jerk her legs into motion. Hastily, she tried to take a step away from him, only to find that she could not. The prongs of her necklace that had been catching in her gown all evening were now entangled in his cravat.

Nerves made her fingers clumsy as she tried to free herself. Without thinking, Rose found herself saying, "You know, when my mother said I should use this necklace to capture the attention of a man, I do not think she meant it quite so literally."

"Ah, and here I was thinking that this was perhaps some new fashion I had missed in the years since I was last at a ball." She could hear a smile in his voice. "I thought it a natural escalation of the need to ensnare a man."

"I think we are perhaps more entangled than ensnared. I believe ensnaring would be far too forward for such an occasion." Rose laughed softly, her nerves at odds with the sound.

Her rising nerves threatened to overcome her. She inhaled deeply to try and calm her emotions, breathing in the scent of the night air.

It reminded her of the clean, crisp smell of the first frost of winter. Like frozen earth and gently swaying trees. There was something calming about it that made her relax, until she realized that what she was smelling could only be the scent of the stranger before her.

Heat rose through her, and her hands began to shake. She was alone, in the dark, entangled with a man she didn't know. And some strange part of her mind was enjoying his scent?

The man reached towards her hands. "Perhaps I might be of assistance. I would not have you trapped in the cold with me for the remainder of the night."

"Are you quite adept at disentanglement?" Rose asked, smiling in spite of herself.

"I have some practice." He paused, and then, as if sensing the impropriety of his words, quickly added, "My sister has often got herself in tangles when playing. And I have had to help others in my family when they have had jewelry or a toy or some such thing catch in one thing or another."

He gently took her necklace and began to delicately unpick each prong.

As Rose tilted her head back to allow him a better view of the necklace, she tried to make out his features. Yet, the position of the moon meant that the man was shrouded in shadows. She could only see his silhouette, which told her nothing about him.

In an attempt to defuse some of the tension, she said, "Well, it is good to know that you do not make a habit of running into women alone in gardens."

"Not generally, no," the man murmured distractedly.

Rose held herself as still as possible, letting him carefully disentangle her necklace from his cravat. He was on the last prong, and she shifted slightly so that his hands could have a better grip on the necklace.

"Miss Pembleton! Oh, good, I have found you at last. I was so worried when you disappeared and—Oh. Oh. Oh ."

Miss Carstairs's voice tore through the night, and Rose felt as though her entire world had just burst into flames.

She sprang away from the stranger, desperately trying to explain the situation. "Miss Carstairs, it—I-I mean… My necklace. We were not… Please, Miss Carstairs. You must listen."

But the damage was done. Miss Carstairs looked from Rose to the stranger, her eyes widening. "I must say, I did not think this evening would be quite so interesting. Nor did I think I would find you, my dearest Miss Pembleton, entangled with him. What will everyone think?"

"Please, Miss Carstairs, you must let me explain. It was my necklace, you see. It caught in his cravat. It has been catching in things all evening!" Rose gestured to her necklace, hoping that Miss Carstairs would note the prongs and the threads still caught in them.

Rose glanced up at the man, hoping that he would help.

He will make Miss Carstairs understand the truth of the matter. Yes, being caught unchaperoned would be scandalous, but not so much as whatever she thinks has transpired.

Her heart stopped as she realized who the stranger was.

The man beside her was none other than Alexander Rokesby, the Duke of Emberly. His face was full of such cold fury that she took a step back. She had never seen rage like it. It was like staring into the face of a wild, caged animal.

He killed his father, and he would kill me, too, I have no doubt. No wonder people call him the Beast of Emberly.

His gentle facade had slipped, revealing the truth below.

She moved away, not daring to look away from him for a second. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Run.

The Duke took a step towards her, the movement angry and menacing. Rose knew all was lost. She heard a yelp from behind her, the sound causing the Duke to pause in his advance.

She fled. At that moment, she did not think about her future or her family.

I do not want to die.

She tripped, falling and whirling around, expecting to see the Duke bearing down upon her. But she was alone.

Tears streamed down her face. Everything was ruined. There was no hope, she had failed.

Perhaps I should have let him kill me.