Chapter 21

Sunlight slanted into the library. Rosalyn stepped in silently, narrowing her gaze as she passed through a ray of sunshine that spilled onto the floor. She searched the darker space beyond, looking for her brother.

“Sebastian?” she called.

He was standing by a shelf in the corner, his back to the door, a small booklet in his hands. He turned around and his gaze widened as he saw Rosalyn there.

“Sister! Were you looking for me?” he asked. His dark eyes were concerned as he scanned her face.

“Isabel and Georgina said you were here,” Rosalyn said simply. She stared up at his thin, handsome face. It was late morning, around tea-time, and Rosalyn had hoped to find Sebastian. She had barely slept, images of the ball, of the duke and of the kiss returning to waken her and twist her heart with a mix of confusion and wonder. She could not understand her own feelings, or what any of it meant. Sebastian was the one person she felt she could turn to for honest advice.

“I thought I would explore the duke’s collection.” Sebastian smiled. “It seems not to be lacking.” His eyes teased. “I am surprised it is so well-stocked, even with the latest books.”

Rosalyn laughed. “Is it all to your satisfaction?” she asked, her own voice teasing.

“Satisfactory indeed.”

They both laughed. Rosalyn drew a breath, not certain about how to ask.

“You are feeling better this morning, sister?” Sebastian asked before she could begin. “I heard that you were feeling indisposed at the ball yesterday.”

“I felt a little queasy, yes,” Rosalyn began uncertainly. “I needed a moment to calm my mind.”

“Mm.” Sebastian nodded, frowning. “Are you certain that you are well, sister? You did exert yourself in the village yesterday, and it was very cold.”

“I am quite well,” Rosalyn assured him.

“Harriet was delighted! She enjoyed handing out the gifts to the poor. She said that it brought her such joy and that she wants to do it every year, now.” He laughed.

“She seems a very pleasant young woman,” Rosalyn said warmly.

“She is. From a pleasant family, I think,” Sebastian said slowly.

“The duke is a fine man,” Rosalyn said, blurting it out before she lost her opportunity and her nerve.

“I am certain he is,” Sebastian said unsurely.

“He is a good man. He can be difficult to get to know—reserved, cold—but when one knows him, he is entirely different,” Rosalyn breathed.

“I am sure that is so,” Sebastian said, still sounding a little unsure.

“I feel...oh! I do not know how to explain it.” Rosalyn gazed up at Sebastian. “I wish I did. It is so strange. One moment, I feel full of admiration and affection, and the next moment, I am in turmoil in my thoughts, confused and uncertain. What is happening to me?” she demanded.

Sebastian raised a brow. “Love is strange. Like water. It leaks slowly into our hearts, and, where we have built dams against it, it pushes at our resistance.” He paused. “That is where we feel the discomfort, the fear. Where love challenges our confused, conflicted beliefs.”

“Love?” Rosalyn gaped at him.

Sebastian smiled. “I believe that is what is happening to you, as you say.”

“You think so?” she asked, a smile spreading across her lips. It made sense that the wondrous feeling that consumed her, that set her thinking of the duke and smiling for no reason, that made her heart warm when she saw him, longing just to be near him, was love.

“Assuredly,” Sebastian said with a grin. “I recognise it.”

Rosalyn chuckled, her eyes widening in understanding. “Harriet! You and Lady Harriet?” Joy made her voice rise as she spoke.

“I believe that I have gazed at her with the same soft eyes with which you sometimes can be seen staring at the duke.”

Rosalyn went red. “Is it that apparent?”

“It is to me,” Sebastian said gently. “But I suspect that it is because I find myself in like position.”

Rosalyn giggled. As delightful as the feeling in her heart—and the knowledge that it was, indeed, what she thought it was—was the fact that Sebastian could share it.

“I think I realised what I felt for her when she fell in the snow.”

“She fell in the snow?” Rosalyn gaped at him. She did not recall the incident.

“Yes. On the day when we went out on a coach ride. I believe you were in the barouche with the duke?”

“Yes!” Rosalyn lifted her hand to her lips, recalling the day. “How did that all unfold” she asked.

Sebastian blushed. “It was my fault, I suppose. I lifted her down out of the coach. I was showing off,” he added with a shy grin. “She was a little unsteady on her feet when I set her down, and she fell into the snow. I was so worried,” he confessed, eyes wide. “Her pelisse was soaking wet and I thought that she might die of the cold.”

Rosalyn smiled, seeing the concern in her brother’s eyes, and she took his hand in reassurance. “But she did not. She is alive and well.”

“Alive, certainly. She had a cough for a day or so afterwards, but she is well again.”

“Good,” Rosalyn said softly.

“I hope that she will consent to ride with me in a coach again,” Sebastian said wryly. “It was grand to share the ride with her in the little coach.”

“I imagine so,” Rosalyn agreed. The coach ride with the duke had been magical. She could not think of a time, like Sebastian had just described, when she became aware of her love for Callum. It had crept into her awareness slowly, growing like a seed from the moment that she first saw him, each incident and each new awareness making her love fuller and broader until even she could no longer fail to notice its presence. She beamed, joy filling her heart.

“What a pair we are,” Sebastian said with a laugh. Rosalyn smiled.

“It is a wondrous feeling.”

“It is,” Sebastian agreed. He gazed out of the window onto the snow. Footsteps patterned it, and off to the side was a mass of horse-prints from where she and Callum had led the horses to the coach-house. She frowned, wondering if the roof had been repaired.

“Have you taken a turn about the grounds?” she asked Sebastian conversationally as he slid the book back into the shelf where he had found it. The sun shone down on the snow and it seemed too beautiful a day not to take advantage of it. Besides, she wished to see how the horses were faring.

“I have not,” Sebastian said with a smile. “I had thought to take some tea first. I feel the need for something to eat.”

“We just broke our fast two hours ago!” Rosalyn protested with a grin.

“I see no reason why that precludes a slice of raisin loaf at tea,” Sebastian said primly.

They were both laughing as they stepped out into the hallway. Rosalyn’s laughter faltered as two people walked past on their way to the front door. Lord Winbrook was one of them. He saw her and smiled. He bowed low.

“Miss Rothwell! How delightful to see you.” His dark eyes held her gaze. Rosalyn curtseyed, looking hastily at the tiled floor of the entranceway.

“Lord Winbrook,” she greeted him blandly. “Lady Philippa.”

“Have you been outside?” Lady Philippa asked Rosalyn warmly. “It is a beautiful day.”

“I had...” Rosalyn began awkwardly, thinking of an excuse. She did not want to mention that she had thought to go outside, since Lady Philippa was wearing a pelisse and they might go with them. She did not wish to go with Lord Winbrook.

“We were just planning to take a brisk walk about the garden,” Sebastian interrupted with a smile. Rosalyn winced and gazed up at him, but instantly Lord Winbrook was replying.

“I would suggest that you join us, then,” he said, his gaze holding Rosalyn’s own. She looked away.

“Well, nothing better than company, eh?” Sebastian said brightly. Rosalyn swallowed hard. Sebastian was a bright, sociable sort and he was clearly also unaware of the tension between herself and Lord Winbrook.

“Capital,” Lady Philippa said warmly.

Rosalyn went to the hat stand and retrieved her brown pelisse, shrugging it on in a desultory way. Sebastian shook out a charcoal-coloured greatcoat, wrapped it around his shoulders, and then opened the front door.

“Let us proceed!” he said, grinning.

Rosalyn went outside and waited for Sebastian to step out with her, ignoring Lord Winbrook, who hovered at her elbow as though he expected her to walk with him.

“Is this not fine?” Sebastian asked brightly as they wandered out into the snow. “A fine day.”

“It is rather cold,” Lord Winbrook pointed out tightly.

“It is December,” Sebastian pointed out.

“Quite so,” Lord Winbrook said disapprovingly. He was walking beside Rosalyn, who walked as close to Sebastian as she could. She was determined not to let him distract her or override her will as he had the previous night at the ball. He sounded put out, as though he had expected her to be pleased to see him.

“Is it not beautiful?” Lady Philippa asked Rosalyn, gesturing to the snow-covered landscape around them. The sunshine sparkled on the ice that clung to the hedges and trees, making long, lacy patterns that shimmered in the daylight. The air was crisp and cool, the snow glittering in the bright sunshine.

“It is very beautiful,” Rosalyn agreed. She focused on the landscape, ignoring the sullen Lord Winbrook who walked beside her.

“The coaches are safely housed in the coach-house again,” Sebastian pointed out as they crossed the lawn. Rosalyn nodded, noting that the horses must all be well-settled in the stable once again.

“A foolish risk, to put the coaches all out in the snow to rust and moulder,” Lord Winbrook said tightly. “I cannot imagine what was in the duke’s mind.”

“It was a wise decision,” Rosalyn snapped, her patience wearing thin. “Between risking the coaches and saving the horses, there is no choice at all. Mechanical objects can be replaced. Living beings cannot.”

Lord Winbrook’s eyes widened and she felt a moment’s fear at the rage on his face. Then abruptly, he calmed. A fatuous smile appeared on his face.

“Quite so. Well said.”

Rosalyn looked away. She had little enough liking for the fellow as it was, but to hear him criticise a wise decision and then to act as though he agreed with her, was too much. It showed her that her assumptions about the man were not wrong. He was unpleasant and untrustworthy.

“Have you called at the stable lately?” Sebastian asked Rosalyn, sensing her discomfort.

“I have not,” Rosalyn replied quickly.

“Shall we go there?” Sebastian suggested, gesturing in a way that included Lord Winbrook and Lady Philippa. “It might be interesting to see the repairs on the roof.”

“I have seen roofs before. It cannot be so different,” Lord Winbrook muttered, but he fell in with them as they turned to take the path left.

Rosalyn walked ahead, doing her best to ignore the two who walked behind her. Sebastian was at the back of the group, loudly pointing out the frozen water of the pond and the icicles that clung to the trees in the water garden.

The stable door was open, the scent of hay and horses strong in the cold. Rosalyn walked in swiftly, sighing with relief. Lord Winbrook and Lady Philippa remained outside, while Sebastian, who seemed to have become suddenly aware of her discomfort, distracted them with comments about the history of water gardens.

“Rosalyn?” a voice called from in the stable. She turned and saw Callum there, standing by Buttercup’s stall. Her heart soared in relief and she went to stand next to him.

“Callum,” she said shyly. Her cheeks grew hot with shyness. She gazed up at him. He gazed back. “How does she fare?” she asked.

“Well,” he replied warmly, turning to Buttercup. “Her cough came back after the stay in the coach-house, but it has entirely gone now. I think perhaps it is the dust from the straw, as you suggested.” His gaze was admiring.

“I am glad that I could help.”

“You are a great help,” he said softly. His eyes held hers and Rosalyn’s heart began to beat loudly as he rested his hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes. His stare was so full of feeling, so tender, that she forgot how to breathe.

“I say!” Sebastian’s voice rang out, and Rosalyn spun around to see him, along with Lord Winbrook and Lady Philippa, in the doorway. She glanced up at Callum, whose gaze narrowed as he stared hard at the viscount, who gazed back with equal dislike. “It would seem the roof is mended,” Sebastian said. “Grand. Grand,” he repeated, seeming to sense both Callum’s and Rosalyn’s discomfort.

“It is indeed well mended,” Callum said thinly. His gaze held Lord Winbrook’s, distaste in every line.

“Well, then! We ought to let you have some peace. One’s tasks with the horses should not be disrupted, eh?”

“Quite so,” Callum said crisply.

Rosalyn gazed up at him, but he was not looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on Lord Winbrook, a hard, cold stare in place. Lord Winbrook moved toward the door, briefly returning the challenging gaze before turning away. Rosalyn shivered. She could not understand what had possessed the two men, and it unsettled her.

She looked up at Callum as Lady Philippa and Sebastian went out of the door. He gazed back at her. His eyes were full of tenderness, her heart twisting with warmth and love as she gazed up at him.

“Thank you for coming to see the horses,” Callum said softly. Rosalyn swallowed, his smile making chills run through her body.

“A pleasure,” she said softly.

He smiled and she turned to walk out of the stable, feeling as though she was floating as she walked onto the path beyond. She walked silently, Lord Winbrook walking sullenly behind Sebastian up the path, drifting in thoughts of Callum and his smile.