Page 74

“No.” Rose shook her head. “Never. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. Without your help, I’d have been facing imminent marriage to the Elderly Earl of Fool.”

Elin smiled widely at the childish moniker they had mutually adopted to describe the Earl of Folton, an overweight, entitled peer of the realm, overfond of port, cards, and dancing with young debutantes.

He had won one wager too many against Elin’s stepfather, prompting that unprincipled sir to offer the hand of his wife’s daughter as a substitute to his spiraling gambling debts.

Lady Rose Foxton was possessed of a large dowry, a good family name, and all the genteel accomplishments expected of her situation. She had also, until yesterday at least, been a dutiful follower, rather than a breaker, of social rules.

“I could never allow that to happen. If you are to marry, it should be to someone young and handsome.” Elin’s eyes widened dreamily.

Rose snorted, no longer caring that such a sound was unladylike.

“I do believe that we are in the very process of closing that door, forever. I have run away, like a disgraced housemaid. No young and handsome man will be seen with me after this. But I already told you, I do not care.” She took a breath, aware that her voice was becoming shrill.

“On my next birthday, I shall inherit the jewels and money which papa left for me. That will be more than enough to secure my future. And until then, I shall find work as a governess.” She sniffed.

“All those endless hours learning French and playing the pianoforte will be put to good use.”

“Any family would be lucky to have you,” Elin said staunchly.

Rose looked down at the velvet carriage seat, upon which laid the book she had been reading for most of the day. “A woman’s future must not necessarily hinge upon marriage.” She lovingly stroked the cover. “I shall go to Scotland, where gossip from the ton does not circulate so readily.”

“I paid heed to that plan when I decided to bring you to the north of England.” Elin inclined her head. “You see, we are already well on our way to the border.”

Somewhat mollified, Rose leaned back against the upholstered seat, trying to ignore the springs digging into her ribs.

Despite her brave speech, she could not help her flicker of fear at the future she was embarking upon.

A future so far from the one she had once imagined, close by her good friend Elin and the wider Shawcross clan who had acted as her surrogate extended family for many years.

An only child, Rose had at first been shy and reserved when visiting Elin at Alnwick Castle.

But it was impossible to resist the good-humored hurly-burly of a life spent mainly on the beach or roaming the hills around the estate.

Thomas had become her amiable older brother.

Mathew and Stanley were as dear to her as any younger siblings could have been, with their plump cheeks, scratched knees, and endless japes.

And Sebastian… Rose closed her eyes at the memory of Sebastian, her heart quickening, as it always did, at the thought of his slow half-smile and the intensity of his deep brown eyes.

“Rose, what are you smiling about?” Elin’s sharp question broke into her reverie.

“Nothing.” Rose did her best to appear unflustered. She couldn’t admit to her best friend in all the world that she had harbored feelings for her eldest brother since her sixteenth summer.

Especially when that brother had become the subject of such notorious society scandal. Scandal that was only compounded by his mysterious disappearance from society.

Scandal that Rose did not believe for a second.

Sebastian would never behave with impropriety towards a young lady. On that, she would stake what was left of her good name.

She foundered for a change of subject. “I cannot help but worry that you have compromised your own prospects in accompanying me.” She tried to smooth her skirt over her knees, but the sharp creases would not give.

Elin shook her head. “I am the only sister of the Duke of Alnwick.” She shrugged, scarcely discomfited when the carriage went over a rut in the road.

“That position allows me a certain leniency.” She paused for a moment, casting a sideways look at her friend.

“Besides, I had to come. Hardly anyone else knows where he is.”

It took a moment for Rose to make sense of her words, but then her pulse began to flutter like a bird caught in a cage. “W-where who is?” she stuttered, gripping the side of the carriage to steady herself.

Surely Elin didn’t mean Sebastian ?

Elin gazed resolutely at the distant treeline, refusing to meet Rose’s anxious eyes.

“I’ve given it a great deal of thought. Believe me. This is the only way.”

Rose felt as if she might be sick, and it had nothing to do with the jolting of the carriage. “Where are we going?” she asked more forcefully. “Tell me, Elin.”

“The house is called Ember Hall,” Elin answered serenely, as if this explained everything.

“I have never heard of it.”

“It belongs to the Earl of Wolvesley.”

Rose frowned, remembering a tall, blond man with a ready laugh who had danced with her twice at the start of the season. She shook her head in bewilderment. “Why are we going to see the Earl of Wolvesley?”

She couldn’t help a cold flicker of disappointment that her suspicions had been incorrect. Sebastian would not be waiting at their destination after all.

“I said the house belongs to the Earl of Wolvesley. Not that we were going to see him. I do not believe he is in residence.” Elin chewed her lip, her eyes lowered to the floor.

Rose leaned forwards until her friend had no choice but to reluctantly meet her gaze. “Who will be in residence?”

Elin sighed dramatically. “I might as well tell you now, I suppose. Ember Hall is where my brother Sebastian has been hiding out these long months. He is to be your salvation, Rose.”

Rose could do nothing but squeak. “My salvation?”

“Or your ruination.” Elin cocked her head to one side, trying but failing to repress a smile. “Under these circumstances, it may very well be the same thing.”