20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Rosanna hauled herself into the carriage. Free. She was free. Free of Lord Richard’s bungling, free of their arrangement. Except maybe what Phineas meant was that he, himself, was free of her. The liberation tasted bitter as she forced herself to swallow.

Free.

Iris and Hamish climbed into the carriage, and Phineas clambered in after them. Like pins on a map, all four of them fastened themselves into the corners. Iris held a fist to her mouth while Hamish crossed his arms over his chest. Phineas spun his hat. The vehicle pulled away, streaming past the warehouses and away from the river. Silence, brittle and angry, buzzed between them.

‘Two companies?’ Hamish shot at Iris. ‘How are we to manage two companies? And the estate? The earl is not getting any younger. Neither are we.’

‘I’m not going to run the company.’ Iris kept her steady focus on the street. ‘Not even a miracle could save it. I saw the numbers.’

Rosanna turned to Phineas, who nodded sagely. ‘The ledgers don’t lie,’ he said.

Iris gasped her next breath, then tried to choke down a sob. Tears welled in her eyes, and with a blink, they spilled down her cheeks. Hamish slid across the seat and gathered her into his arms. Iris, strong, stubborn, and intelligent, collapsed against her husband’s chest and snuffled into his coat with a wail.

Rosanna moved a little closer to Phineas. ‘What will happen?’ she asked.

‘To settle the debts and refund the shareholders, any assets will have to be sold.’ He kept his voice low. ‘Property, stock. Invoices called in and payments squared. Some of the accounts have not been addressed in more than a year, and the board drew off heavy profits. Some traders, especially smaller ones, won’t be able to find the money they owe. You could force their hand, but for what? To create more misery? Most will seek terms. Some will ignore the demands.’

‘Everything he built. What we built. Gone.’ Iris rocked with the sway of the carriage.

‘What about the workers?’ Hamish asked.

Iris wiped her cheeks. ‘We’ll give them notice of what’s coming. Pay what they’re owed, which is more than they would have received if the company had failed. They’ll have time to find new employment. If there’s one thing London always needs, it’s willing hands and strong backs.’

‘And those that can’t find work?’ Hamish asked.

‘We’ll find a way.’ Iris sniffled. ‘We always find a way.’

‘Phineas.’ Rosanna leant close. ‘You can’t let Iris sell off the company alone. It will break her.’

Phineas flicked her a scowl, then tucked his hands tight against his chest.

‘Can’t you help her?’

‘I couldn’t ask it,’ Iris interjected. ‘You two are newly married. You need time away to settle into one another. You need—’

‘We aren’t married.’ Phineas announced. ‘It was a front to stop Mrs Crofts from gossiping while we worked out what business Lord Richard was involved in. Everything will be annulled. And after this, no man would be stupid enough to think he can fool Rosanna Hempel into a loveless marriage for her money again.’

‘You seemed so…’ Hamish frowned. ‘So happy. Not so much you, Rosanna, you’re always happy. But I’ve never known Phineas to smile so much. Truth be told, I didn’t even know you could smile.’

The carriage slowed to a stop, right at the point in the row of townhouses where Numbers 1 and 3 met. Phineas climbed out first, and on the pavement, he held out his hand. Rosanna steadied herself against him as she descended the few thin steps. After she had alighted and the carriage had rolled away, he kept hold of her.

‘You don’t have to leave tonight if you don’t want to,’ Phineas said. ‘You can take a few days to get your things packed and moved. For appearances’ sake, it probably shouldn’t be too long though.’ He squeezed her fingertips. ‘Will you come inside?’

‘I’d like to speak with my parents.’ She withdrew from his hold. ‘I’d like to tell them what happened myself.’

They walked in parallel up the stairs to each door, taking each step at almost the same pace. Phineas paused on the landing. Rosanna tapped at the door to her family home. Light spilled onto her feet, and laughter and family filled the brief incandescence.

‘I’ll be home soon,’ she called across the gap.

The door to Number 1 snapped off her words.

Some hours later, Rosanna walked down the stairs of her family home, took the few short steps across the pavement, then ascended to the house where she had felt herself grow, where she’d learnt to feel love and passion. To the place where she had transformed from a girl into a woman. Into becoming all the things she’d been so certain she would have to flee home to experience, to fly dozens of bunched miles to understand. Yet, all along, she hadn’t needed distance or forced bravado. Only belief.

Belief in herself. Belief in her worth. And to find a different way of understanding her value—not as a darling or a diamond, but as Rosanna. She fumbled at the key in her pocket, drew it out, and twisted it in the lock. The door clicked open. Once inside, she secured the entrance again. She untied her bonnet and laid it on the table.

From deep within, she tried to find the resolve to condense her feelings into a few sentences, into a plea for acceptance, and into a hope for something new. To mould her words into the argument she’d been so intent on making that morning. But her heart beat weakly. Her hope had shattered when she’d seen how viciously Phineas had questioned Lord Richard, how desperate he’d been to find Pennington.

All he wanted was the woman on the mantlepiece.

The clink of glass on wood filtered through from the library. A fresh bottle of whisky sat on the table between the two chairs, the amber liquor still inching into the neck.

With a smooth gulp, Phineas emptied his glass. ‘I had Hugh go out so we could celebrate. I poured you a drink.’ He clinked his empty glass against her half-full one, then let it drop. His head fell back against the leather. His breaths came heavy, his chest rising and falling with a slight snore.

Rosanna curled into the space beside his knee. He shifted with a slight hmph , making room for her in the chair, and she rested her cheek against his chest. His breath settled back into a steady rhythm. Just as she felt herself drifting into sleep, he trailed a finger lightly over her cheek.

Tomorrow, she would tell him what she’d learnt. About Imogen.

Tonight, he was still hers.