Chapter Eighteen

Rosemary had her nose in a book when she heard a maid open the front door and admit someone into the house. It was nearly a week since the Royal Gala and Sterling had come to visit her every day since, but generally never this early.

With Lady Ellinwood as a watchful chaperone (much to Sterling's grumbling displeasure), they'd taken long walks through Kensington Gardens, gone to see the white tiger at the Zoological Society, and attended a play at the Gaiety Theater. But to the best of her knowledge, they hadn't anything planned today until later in the afternoon when he was taking her to watch a rowing race from the shores of the Serpentine. And her grandmother was out, which meant she wasn't expecting a visitor.

Curious, Rosemary set her book aside after taking care to mark her place with a frayed hair ribbon. She made her way into the foyer where, much to her surprise and delight, she discovered Evie, newly returned from Scotland if her cranberry-colored traveling habit was any indication, and Weston, dashingly formidable in all black.

"I was hoping you'd be in!" Evie said brightly. "We just got back ourselves early this morning after traveling most of the night. Exhausting, really, but at least you can sleep on the train."

"Have you brought more fabric samples to show me?" Rosemary asked, only partly teasing.

Evie glanced at Weston. "Actually…there won't be any need for those."

"You picked a color for the bridesmaid dresses?" she said with no small measure of relief. "Was it the mauve you showed us last time, or the…um…ivory?" Truth be told, Rosemary hadn't the faintest idea how to distinguish between the seemingly endless number of samples. She could tell blue from green and red from pink, but pearl and alabaster looked the same to her. According to her cousin, however, they were as different as night and day.

"Not exactly." Again Evie looked at her husband, who gave the tiniest of nods. She clasped her hands together under her chin. "We are already married."

"You're…what?" Rosemary said blankly.

"Married. We eloped. To Gretna Green. That's where we've been."

"But I thought you were traveling to Campbell Castle?"

Rosemary's geographical knowledge of Scotland wasn't as strong as it should have been, but even she knew that Glenavon, where Lachlan and Brynne lived, and Gretna Green, a little village right over the border, were on complete opposite ends of the country.

"We were on our way, but I became too ill to continue." Morning sunlight stealing in between the gaps in the heavy drapes that Lady Ellinwood favored illuminated Evie's brilliant smile as she placed her hand low on her belly. "It appears my increased appetite these past few weeks was not from nerves."

Rosemary's stunned gaze bounced from her cousin to the Earl of Hawkridge. Thus far, all of her interactions with Evie's fiancé–make that husband–had given her the impression that Weston was a stern, somber individual who reserved his lighter side for those he loved the most. But at that moment, he couldn't have looked happier or more proud.

"Do you mean to say that you're…"

" Expecting ," Evie trilled. "I am going to be a mother, of all things."

"And I am going to be a father." Extending his arm, Weston wrapped it around Evie's waist and pulled her snugly against his chest. "You should rest. You've been on your feet for almost an hour."

Evie rolled her eyes at Rosemary. "He's been like this since we returned to London. It is going to be a very long seven months. But I know what you're thinking, and not to worry. Once the baby is here, I've been promised an enormous ball to celebrate our wedding."

It wasn't even close to what Rosemary had been thinking, but she wasn't about to disagree with a pregnant woman or her overprotective husband. "I am so glad to hear that."

"It actually works out splendidly, as I'll have something to keep me busy during my lying in. Naturally, it will call for an entirely new color palette for the dresses." She waved her hand in the air. "But I can figure all that out later. The best news is–"

"Our future child wasn't the best news?" Weston asked, lifting a brow.

"Women have babies every day. And while our baby will undoubtedly be the best of the bunch as long as she doesn't inherit your stubborn nature, what's even more exciting is that now Rosemary and Hanover can be married in our place!" She beamed from ear to ear. "Isn't that wonderful news?"

"Ah…" Rosemary didn't know what to say. She wanted to marry Sterling. Especially after their night in the cottage. But so soon? She'd just adjusted to being a fiancée! A role that she wanted to have time to enjoy before she leapt straight into being a wife and a duchess. "That's a lovely offer. Truly. But–"

"You needn't lift a single finger," Evie interrupted airily. "I already have everything planned. The food, the decorations, the invitation list. Which you can change as you see fit. Although I'm sure Hanover and Weston have similar acquaintances, so it shouldn't need to be changed that much. The music is accounted for. A solo harpist for the ceremony at the church, and then a full orchestra for the reception. It will need to be at Hawkridge Manor as construction has begun on the pavilions–"

"Pavilions?" Rosemary said weakly. "As in more than one?"

"–but surely that won't be an issue. I've ordered cases of champagne in advance that should be arriving any week. The doves are nearly ready. Apparently, there is one that isn't staying with the others when they're released, but the farmer assures me they'll all be expertly trained by the wedding so you needn't worry." She paused, but only to take a breath. "I have the perfect modiste, Mademoiselle Claudette. It's a tad late to start a gown for you from scratch, but if we keep the square cut neckline and adjust the length of the sleeves–"

"You're frightening your poor cousin half to death," Weston cut in. "Maybe give her time to decide if she wants to be married in six weeks before you bludgeon her over the head with all the details. And in case you've forgotten, a wedding generally requires two people. "

"Bludgeoning?" Evie huffed. She looked at Rosemary, who shifted her weight uncomfortably from her left foot to her right. "I'm not bludgeoning . Am I?"

"Um…yes?" she said hesitantly. "I mean no. I mean…maybe?"

"See?" said Evie, poking her husband in the ribs with her elbow. "Maybe."

"Maybe is what nice people say when they don't want to hurt your feelings as you are bludgeoning them," he said mildly. "Besides, the last I checked, a wedding requires a bride and a groom. For all you know, Sterling has his heart set on getting married in the spring."

"What he wants doesn't matter. This is all about Rosemary. But I do suppose it is a lot to absorb on such short notice," she allowed. "Why don't we take our leave and let you sleep on it, then we can begin planning in the morning. Have you ever been to the outdoor tea room at the Staffordshire Hotel?"

Rosemary shook her head.

"Excellent. Neither have I, but Brynne says they have the most divine muffins anywhere in the city. The American kind, not those plain, chewy circles of dry bread that you lot call a muffin." Evie's nose wrinkled. "I'll have a table reserved for the four of us, as Brynne and Joanna should be returning tonight. They continued on to Glenavon while we remained in Gretna Green for some celebratory…erm…"

"Bird watching," Weston supplied, straight-faced.

"Yes," Evie said with a wink. "Bird watching."

"Oh. Oh ," Rosemary repeated, her cheeks heating. "What–what time tomorrow?"

"Half past ten?"

"That should be fine." She didn't yet know what she was going to tell her grandmother. While Sterling had won Lady Ellinwood's approval, that same acceptance had decidedly not been extended to Evie or Joanna. Courtesy of her cousin's impromptu venture to Scotland, they hadn't needed to address the proverbial elephants in the room. But if they waited much longer, the elephants were going to show up wearing matching bridesmaid dresses.

"Until tomorrow, then." The cousins shared a brief hug and then Evie flitted out the door with Weston right on her heels.

The earl was going to make a good father.

Far better, Rosemary suspected, than his own had been.

She wasn't privy to all the details that comprised the cold relationship between the Marquess of Dorchester and his twin children. But when you were quiet, and read books, people tended to talk as if you were no more present than a piece of furniture. Which meant she'd overheard many a conversation over the years, and more than a few of those conversations had centered on Brynne, Weston, and their father.

She knew that they'd been raised by a small army of nannies and governesses. That the marquess had been an absent figure in their lives, preferring to travel to remote areas of Europe rather than remain in England and raise his own children.

How fortunate for Evie and her baby that the cycle of icy dismissiveness would break with Weston. It was obvious, just by the way he'd gazed at her as she touched her stomach, that their future child was going to be blessed with two loving, attentive parents…in addition to a quartet of adoring aunties.

But his wasn't the only cycle that needed breaking.

When Lady Ellinwood returned home, Rosemary was there to greet her with tea and a cucumber sandwich sans crust, just like her grandmother liked. She'd even gone so far as to add a green olive, spearing it through the middle with a sewing needle to hold the olive onto the bread. It was, she knew, her grandmother's favorite food…and a blatant attempt at bribery.

"What's all this?" Lady Ellinwood said sharply as she took to her preferred chair in the drawing room and set her cane aside.

"I thought you might be hungry after your morning of shopping. Did you not find what you were looking for?" Rosemary asked, noting the lack of packages that would ordinarily follow her grandmother through the door after an outing on Bond Street.

"I was searching for a blue scarf to match my gloves with the white stitching."

"And?" Pouring them both cups of tea, she set her grandmother's on a small circular table beside her chair along with the sandwich and sat directly across from her on a hard, flat sofa that had undoubtedly been placed opposite Lady Ellinwood's winged armchair because it was hard and flat, and thus would automatically place anyone who visited her at a disadvantage.

"And I didn't find one. What is this about, Rosemary?" Leaving her food untouched, even the olive, Lady Ellinwood assessed her granddaughter with the critical eye of a hawk. "Has the Duke of Hanover called off the engagement? Is that what you need to tell me? Because if it is, best come out with it now and we can set about finding you a replacement suitor before too much damage is done."

"What? No! The duke hasn't called off our engagement." Rosemary set her cup down with a clatter. "Why would you think that?"

Her grandmother lifted a bony shoulder. "One never knows about these things."

"Well I know. Sterling wouldn't do that. He…" Loves me. Cannot live without me. Is counting the days until we're married. Except he hadn't said any of those things, had he? No matter. She didn't need the words. Not when she knew how he felt. "He cares deeply about me."

"Then you're expecting," Lady Ellinwood said matter-of-factly after a surreptitious glance at Rosemary's belly. "I suspected as much, given how pudgy you've become lately. No matter. We'll move up the wedding and say the babe came early. It's done all of the time. Why, just look at Lady Ives. As if we're to believe she miraculously birthed a healthy four-month-old baby. Ludicrous."

The pictures , Rosemary told herself.

Remember the pictures.

Of all the people that her grandmother had loved and whose subsequent loss had made her this way. Bitter, and cynical, and callused over like a heel that had been crammed into an ill-fitting boot. It hurt at first, to wear a shoe that didn't fit. But if you ignored the pain and wiped up the blood then eventually the blisters would harden and the skin would thicken and you wouldn't feel anything anymore.

Or…or you could just take off the boot.

"No, Grandmother, I am not expecting. But Evie is."

"Evie?" Lady Ellinwood said, and it was impossible to tell if her lack of recognition was real or feigned.

"Evelyn Thorncroft. Lady Evelyn Weston now, I guess, given that she and the earl were wed. She is to have a baby."

"How nice for her," Lady Ellinwood said curtly. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss, Rosemary? It has been a long morning and it will be a longer afternoon. I'd like to rest before we depart for the boat races."

"That is what I wanted to discuss." Rosemary inwardly braced herself for the storm that was to come. She could already taste it in the air. See it in her grandmother's stiff, unyielding posture. "I understand that you do not have a favorable opinion of my American cousins. But they've done nothing to deserve your malice except to welcome me with open arms. If you gave them a chance…if you got to know them–"

"I have absolutely no interest in getting to know my sister's illegitimate granddaughter or her sister. And neither should you." Lady Ellinwood picked up her cane. "This conversation is over, Rosemary."

"But I do know them," she persisted. "I know that they do not deserve whatever preconceived notions you may have of them. Whatever happened to drive you and your sister away from each other, Joanna and Evie were not a part of it, Grandmother. They weren't even born yet. Their mother wasn't born yet."

"Anne Thorncroft." Lady Ellinwood's mouth twisted around the name as if she'd uttered a curse. "Proof that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. And as far as I'm concerned, her daughters are made of the same rotten fruit. You are not to see them, Rosemary. If you have been sneaking about behind my back, which I suspect you have, you are to cease all communication at once. Is that clear?"

"No!" Rosemary burst out as she rose from the sofa. "No, it isn't clear. Why don't you want me to see them? To have a relationship with them? They are my cousins. My family."

Lady Ellinwood struck the floor with her cane. " I am your family."

"Yes, you are. That is not in dispute. But why–"

" Because they will leave you. "

The silence that followed such a dire proclamation was raw and filled with hurt. Eyes wide, Rosemary sank slowly back into her seat while her grandmother took a moment to compose herself.

"Mabel left me." Lady Ellinwood's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and small, and Rosemary's chest ached to hear the hint of bewilderment in it. "She fancied herself in love with a dashing American businessman. I asked her to stay. I begged her. I didn't want to be alone."

"But your parents–"

"Our parents were not kind. When our father drank…" Her lips trembled as she pressed them together. "Mabel and I looked after each other. When one of us slept, the other would listen for the creak of footsteps on the stairs. But then she left. She left me, and there was no one to listen."

"I am so sorry." Her eyes swimming with tears, Rosemary rushed across the room to kneel beside her grandmother. She gathered her hands. Hands that suddenly felt old and frail. The hands of a woman that had endured more than any woman should have to. "No wonder you were upset with her when she went to America."

"There was a part of me that was happy Mabel got out. That she escaped what I couldn't." Lady Ellinwood was gazing at a picture on the wall, but it was evident by the vacancy in her stare that she was looking far into the past. "But the other part of me was bitter and angry. When she finally returned to London, she had a daughter nearly full grown and I had a son. Your father. But too much time had gone by, and the bridge between us had grown too long. We did not leave things on good terms. I never… I never spoke to her again."

It was strange, to imagine all of the different lives that Lady Ellinwood had lived before she became a grandmother. Rosemary only knew her as one person. Which was how everyone tended to think of those who were old. And they forgot about who they'd been before. When they were a daughter, and a sister, and a wife, and a mother.

As she gently held her grandmother's hand, Rosemary's heart wrenched. It was easier and simpler to paint someone with a single stroke of a brush. Easier still if that brush was filled with paint that coated everything beneath it in a layer of thick, oozing black.

It was easy to dismiss a crotchety old woman as mean.

A lecherous duke as a drunken scoundrel.

A shy, unique debutante as a boring wallflower.

What was far more difficult, what required actual effort and a deep emotional investment, was to scratch off the paint once it had dried. To peel back layer after layer to see what had caused it to darken and harden in the first place.

"I cannot imagine the losses you've endured. If it makes my heart feel heavy just to think of them, I cannot imagine what it does to yours." She considered telling her grandmother about the pictures she'd found, then decided against it. When an open wound was exposed maybe it was better not to poke and prod, but to let it close up and heal. "What I do know, however, is that more pain has never helped anything or anyone. I have seen my cousins. Multiple times. It was disobedient of me, but it wasn't wrong. Because Evie and Joanna are family, Grandmother. They're our family, and all you have left of your sister."

"The dark-haired one looks like her." Lady Ellinwood drew a deep, shuddering breath that crackled in her lungs. But she didn't let go of her granddaughter's hand. "She looks just like Mabel. When I first saw her at Hawkridge Manor I thought…I thought I was seeing a ghost."

"That must have been unsettling."

"It was." She closed her eyes as a lone tear, the only one Rosemary had ever seen her shed, trickled down her papery thin cheek. "But you are right, my dear. They are our blood, our family, and all that remains of my Mabel. I couldn't take it upon myself to make amends with her when she was alive, and I shall carry that regret to my grave. But perhaps…perhaps I need not make the same mistake with my grand-nieces."

"Evie has invited me to have breakfast with her and Joanna and Lady Brynne tomorrow morning at the Staffordshire Hotel," Rosemary revealed. "With your permission, I'd like to go. You could even join us, if you'd like. I hear their muffins are very good."

"You may attend breakfast," Lady Ellinwood said with a grand inclination of her head. "I will require another day or two to collect my thoughts. However, given that my grand-nieces are uncultured Americans, I am sure they would benefit from my wisdom and tutelage as soon as possible. You can tell them that they may call upon me later this week, and we shall begin their education on correct manners and proper etiquette."

There was the grandmother Rosemary knew and loved.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned her head to hide her smile. "I'll be sure to let them know."

"Excellent." Brushing aside her granddaughter's hand, Lady Ellinwood reached for her cane. "If there is nothing else, I will retire upstairs. It has been a long day, and I am tired."

It wasn't yet noon, but Rosemary knew exactly what she meant.

"Thank you," she said, kissing her grandmother's cheek before she quit the room.

"For what?" Lady Ellinwood sniffed, any previous signs of vulnerability having vanished into a puff of proverbial smoke the instant she stood up. If not for the dampness Rosemary had felt against her lips when she pressed them to her grandmother's skin, she might have been fooled into thinking she'd imagined their entire conversation. Such was Lady Ellinwood's ability to cloak herself in armor. Armor that she'd needed throughout her life to protect her from any manner of ills.

"For always being there for me," said Rosemary, "even though those you loved were not there for you." A thought occurred. So clear and obvious, she wondered how she couldn't have seen it earlier. "Is that why you've been less than enthusiastic about my engagement, even though you were the one who encouraged it in the first place? Just because Sterling and I are getting married does not mean I am going to leave you, Grandmother. Things will be different. I won't live here anymore, it's true. And I'll have a husband. Maybe even children of my own, one day. But I will always love you. I will always be there for you. That is never going to change. Even if you wish to be, you'll never get rid of me. No matter what the future brings."

Lady Ellinwood was quiet for a long moment. Then she struck her cane on the floor with an authoritative tap, tap . "Be careful you do not have too many muffins tomorrow. You must be more cognizant of your waistline." The rigid brackets surrounding her mouth softened imperceptibly. "You are a gracious child, Rosemary. Next to raising your father, watching you grow has been my greatest privilege."

It wasn't an outright admission of love. But it was the closest Lady Ellinwood had ever come to revealing that she cared. And sometimes…sometimes close enough was the best that you could hope for.