14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

R osalind restlessly paced about her room, her heart still heavy with the weight of her confrontation with Alex. From her window, to the mantle of her little fireplace, to the door of her dressing room, back to her bed, over and over again she walked. With each lap, she replayed the scene in the garden in her mind, wondering what would have happened if she had only said this, or done that. Her mind's eye focused on Alex, his words echoed in her thoughts, the pain and frustration in his voice still raw and palpable.

She paused at her window, pushing the gauzy drapery aside to look outside. Her sisters had wanted their rooms to have better views–Amelia's windows faced the street outside their home, Isabella's looked over the garden and skyline beyond. However, Rosalind didn't care about aesthetics or being able to watch the comings and goings of the neighbourhood. Her window looked out over the stables, which admittedly was hardly a view worthy of much consideration. Still, they represented the possibility of freedom.

Gently, Rosalind let her head rest against the window pane and sighed, fogging the window a little. Part of her was sorely tempted to sneak down to the stables again, to mount up her horse and set off across London. She was unsure if she meant to demand another midnight audience with Alex again, though that did seem a reliable hour to get the truth from him, or if she would simply gallop off into the night in a flurry of hooves, never to be seen again. It was an appealing thought, to just leave everything behind.

Perhaps I should just go to Italy , she thought wistfully, reaching up to draw a lop-sided circle in the fog on the window. I could become an artist's model, or maybe a governess . She sighed again, obscuring the view to the stables further.

She knew there was no way she could leave her sisters, no matter her misery. Whatever her hardships were, she was still determined to do right by them. If she were being honest with herself, as honest as she wished Alex was being, then she also stayed because her traitorous heart stayed anchored to Alex. Despite the strain between them, Rosalind couldn't deny the depth of her feelings for Alex. The connection they had forged, the moments of vulnerability and understanding they had shared, had left an indelible mark on her soul.

Like a caged tiger, Rosalind turned away from the window, her light pacing making the boards of her floor squeak. Irritated and full of unresolved sentiments, she alternated between clenching her fists and folding her arms. Her body felt too small to contain her troubled mind and heart. Her light cotton nightrail fell like a gossamer shroud about her as she walked and fretted.

A light scratching at her door interrupted her. She pressed closer to her door, listening. "Open up, Rosalind," Amelia said from the other side, her voice low and muffled.

"We can hear you pacing," Isabella added.

Rosalind sighed but smiled all the same as she opened the door, admitting her sisters. Without preamble, they entered the room and took Rosalind by the hands, pulling her over to her bed, where she followed reluctantly. She allowed herself to be seated onto her bed, with her sisters climbing in and sitting opposite her, their legs folded up beneath the bedpane. This was their habit from when they were very young, to sit like this and have private conference.

It was also their habit to nick some biscuits or some other sweetmeats from the kitchen. Rosalind was pleased to find that Amelia bore a tray of whipped lemon custard tarts. Cook would surely be in a state over the loss in the morning, but it seemed a price worth paying; Rosalind's restless body and mind had made her quite hungry, particularly as she hadn't been able to choke down any of the morsels at the exhibition.

"Now," Amelia said once they had all availed themselves of the treats, "would you kindly tell us what has chased you from your bed?"

Rosalind hesitated. She hadn't yet told her sisters of her audacious proposal to the Duke, hoping to spare them any further worry. She stared down at her hands, the pastry crust crumbs pooled between them on her quilt. The silence in her room stretched, and she could feel their expectant eyes on her.

"Shall we tell you what we have seen over the past few weeks?" Amelia continued. "Father says one of us must marry the Duke, and we are all troubled by this for one reason or another. I will own that it seemed I was the most likely candidate, but for some strange reason, the Duke suddenly had shifted all of his attentions to you. Don't mistake me, I am grateful to be overlooked, but it seemed strange all the same, given that you made your contempt for the situation well-known. Still, all seemed well enough, and you were happy to be in each other's company."

"Quite happy," Isabella added.

"Until tonight, that is. Why don't you, in your own good time, tell us what exactly has been afoot?" Amelia finished.

Rosalind bit her lip, not trusting herself to look her sisters in the eye. "Please, pay me no mind," she said, forcing herself to be light. "I am fine–well enough–and I'm only sorry if I distracted from your great night, Isabella."

Isabella made a dismissive sound through her nose. "I'm not worried on that score," she said with far more confidence than Rosalind had ever heard her speak with. "Lord Tyrrell assures me that I shall have many more in the future, should I so wish."

Pleased in spite of her own misery, Rosalind reached forward and pressed Isabella's hand, glad for her. This turned out to be a mistake, for Isabella cleverly caught Rosalind's hand, holding it tightly in her own. She dipped her head down, trying to catch Rosalind's eye.

This was all that it took to break the dam of Rosalind's resolve. Her voice was low and urgent as she confided in her sisters, the words tumbling from her lips in a rush of emotion. "Amelia, Isabella, I...I have done something I fear you will disapprove of," she began. Slowly, she unwound the tale, from her daring midnight proposal to her first outing into society with the Duke. As she spoke, her sisters' faces reflected their emotions, with Amelia reaching out to clasp Rosalind's hand too.

"You said that you proposed a marriage of convenience, an honest one," Isabella said, her pretty forehead wrinkling a little as she thought. "But you seemed so..."

"Well-suited," Amelia finished.

Rosalind sighed, withdrawing her hands to wrap her arms about herself again. "No one told me that love can make one into such a fool," she groused.

Amelia and Isabella exchanged a glance. "Well, we could have told you that," Amelia said, smiling a little ruefully.

"Love?" Isabella repeated, her eyes widening.

"Did I say love?" Rosalind said, her brow furrowing. "Oh, blast it all, I did," she said, flopping back onto her pillows, pressing her hands against her eyes.

"The Duke seemed so charming and genteel when we walked in the park," Amelia said with some vinegar in her voice. "And now at the first test of feeling, he withdraws."

"This is my fear," Rosalind agreed, her voice a little muffled as she scrubbed at her face. "Did he simply wind me in with his smooth words? Did he pretend to be so interested in me as a person for...I don't know, some game? His pride? Oh, I really have been a fool."

"No," Amelia said, grabbing Rosalind's wrists and pulling her hands away from her face. Rosalind was surprised to see such ferocity in Amelia's eyes, her normally placid sister moved on her behalf. "He has been a cad. You laid out the terms of your proposal, and asked only for the same honesty that you gave to him, and which he refused. That is most definitely not on."

"It really isn't," Isabella murmured in agreement. "To let you walk out into the ton like that, so unprepared..."

"It's not as if I can refuse to see him now," Rosalind said. "We're already all on precarious footing after Isabella's exhibition; the only reason he agreed to it is because he thought I would be marrying the Duke, thus saving us all from ruin and reputation."

Amelia's eyes filled with compassion and understanding as she listened intently to Rosalind's words. She drew her sister into a warm embrace, her touch a silent reassurance of her unwavering support. "Oh, Rosalind," she murmured, her voice tender and soothing. "I can only imagine the weight you carry on your shoulders, but know that we are here for you, always."

Isabella, too, reached out to embrace Rosalind, nestling into them. "Rosalind, you are the strongest and most resilient person I know," she said, her voice filled with conviction. "You have sacrificed so much for us, and we will stand by you, no matter what comes."

Rosalind drew strength from her sisters' unwavering love and support, their presence a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf her. She took a deep, steadying breath, the warmth of their hands in hers anchoring her to the present moment.

"I just fear that I might have imagined it all, that it was all just girlish hopes," Rosalind confessed.

Isabella pulled back, sitting on her legs and tilting her head thoughtfully. "I'm not so sure," she said, tapping her chin with her finger. "I saw you two together when you took me to see Miss Sharples—the way the Duke looked at you, there was something in his eyes," she said softly, her gaze filled with understanding. "He hardly looked at the art, as if he couldn't bear to take his gaze from you for a single moment."

Rosalind listened intently to her sister's words, her heart stirring with a flicker of hope. Isabella's observations, born from a place of love and insight, struck a chord within her, resonating with the very essence of her own feelings for Alex.

"I know it's not easy to trust, especially in the face of such adversity," Isabella continued, her voice filled with compassion. "But he might still prove himself. Surely you can still give him the chance to do so."

Rosalind considered her sister's words. She knew that the path forward would not be easy, that there would be challenges and obstacles to overcome. Even so, the thought of losing Alex, of letting the connection they had forged slip away, was a prospect far more daunting than facing the rumours and scandals head-on. She doubted she would ever find someone with whom she could forge such a relationship, who would ask her about more than her embroidery and her frock.

"The next few days will settle the matter one way or the other," Amelia said. She fixed Rosalind in her gaze again, her face grave. "Whatever happens, promise us that you won't try to carry such a thing all on your own again. I mean it, Rosalind—we're your sisters, and we're with you, no matter what comes."

"We're stronger than you think," Isabella added. "We can help you shoulder this burden."

Rosalind smiled and took their hands again in silent promise. Whatever the next few days would bring, Rosalind felt all the better because she knew that she wouldn't have to face it alone.