“Chrrrr?”
Rose glanced down to find two pairs of golden eyes fixed upon her, surprisingly close, as two small snouts pointed directly up at her face. It was only then that she finally realised she had been growling out loud as she’d bent over the desk on her lap.
“It is simply too absurd,” she told the dragons, who now tightly flanked her, one on each side of the mattress. “Does she truly think I wouldn’t understand or forgive her? That I don’t know how unhappy she’s been, or that I’d truly give her up forever only because of that?”
Oh, Elinor had written her letters in a tone of dry amusement, turning their cousin’s petty tyranny into a shared jest, but Rose was no fool. She knew both of her sisters, and she’d taken anxious note of the increasing weariness and frustration simmering behind Elinor’s reassuring tone. As everyone knew, Elinor was invariably restrained, diplomatic and kind; Rose, on the other hand, had no such limits when it came to those she loved. If she could, she would happily throttle the cousin who had made her older sister’s life a misery …
But she’d been hopelessly out of reach for months. If that situation had hit a breaking point and a handsome scoundrel had been nearby, ready to take advantage of her sister …
“I can’t bear this,” Rose told the dragons. “I need to help!”
Rhiannon let out a soft cooing sound and wrapped her long neck firmly across Rose’s taut left arm. Snuggling tighter into Rose’s right side, Griff laid his small head once more on her lap.
Warmth spread through her from both directions … and Rose let out a long, shuddering breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned into them both. “Thank you.”
It would only be a few more hours until supper, when she would have the chance to see Mr Aubrey and sort everything out. With both of the dragons at her side, perhaps she could manage to wait that long, after all.
Unfortunately, when Rose finally did see her fiancé again a few hours later, she found an entirely different disaster waiting for her.
Chapter 11
“Doom has come upon us!”
Aunt Parry’s voice rolled out through the open door of the front parlour, throbbing with such anguished despair that Rose – still only halfway down the stairs after a long battle to settle both of the dragons in her room – snatched up her skirts and burst into a panicked run. By the time she hurtled into the parlour, she was ready to take on any imaginable crisis, from ruthless creditors to fallen masonry or worse ... but she was not, after all, prepared for what she found.
A sea of startled gazes landed upon her as the dozen people gathered in the room fell silent at her entrance. High-backed chairs had apparently been looted from all around the abbey to fill the room in a tight cluster of individual seats, while the usual sofas had been pushed back, out of the way, and tall candles supported the last of the early evening light. Young Rupert must have been safely tucked up in his nursery and Uncle Parry was missing, but all three of her three older cousins were there, along with Aunt Parry, Carys the housemaid, and a wide variety of guests. There was Ellis Jones, the local farmer’s son who made Uncle Parry’s spectacles and fixed all the household’s clocks; Mr Aubrey, who appeared to be covertly reading one of his own books under the cover of a handwritten sheaf of papers; Mr Evans, the local shopkeeper; Miss Conway, one of two silver-haired spinsters who shared a cottage – and perhaps a bit more – nearly three miles away; Reverend and Mrs Davies, free for once of their gigantic brood of young children ... and, perched upright beside a lounging Georgie, an extraordinarily beautiful young woman Rose had never seen before, with light brown skin, long, thick lashes over clever, dark eyes, smooth, high-piled black hair, and an elegant Kashmir shawl that sparkled and shimmered with rich colours around her delicate muslin gown.
The very sight of that gown made Rose suddenly and horribly conscious of exactly how out of fashion her own thrice-turned gown really was. It had been dyed to mourning black a full year ago and then redyed, with even less success, to some approximation of lavender as that year progressed, but it was only after she’d stood for a long moment in the doorway, caught off guard by her unexpected audience, that she realised she was still holding the skirts of that gown scandalously high above her ankles.
The stranger’s full lips twitched with irrepressible amusement.
Rose let go of the cloth as hastily as if it had burned her.
“Ah, Rose, dear, here you are at last.” Sitting at the front of the room, her chair pointed to face all the rest, Aunt Parry lowered her own handwritten script to her lap and smiled beatifically. “We had been waiting for you, but Georgie felt it better not to interrupt your nap, just in case. Are you feeling any better now?”
“I ...” Rose caught Georgie’s discreet wink from the newcomer’s side just in time to remember her earlier excuse. “... am feeling much improved now,” she murmured, “but—”
“Excellent.” Beckoning her over, Aunt Parry handed her another sheaf of paper. “I’ve saved the best role of all for you. Gwinthlean is the innocent heroine of this piece, lured into a dreadful English lord’s lair on threat of her aged father being sent to debtor’s prison. She faces terrible persuasions and lures while she is in the villain’s grasp, surrounded by enemies on all sides. Still, honour compels her to stand firm and wait for her beloved Captain Jones to finally return from sea and rescue her, so—”
“Ugh!” Serena groaned from her own seat. “I wouldn’t take on that milksop role for anything. I’m Gwinthlean’s wicked aunt: so much more entertaining! And if I were Gwinthlean, I’d be far more interested in dastardly Lord Fortescue.”
“Oh, but this is all so thrilling!” The newcomer’s lightly accented voice was a burble of pure delight as she leaned forwards, nearly bouncing in her seat. “I was so pleased to receive an invitation to Gogodd Abbey at last, and I could hardly believe it when I arrived and discovered our hostess to be the actual Mrs P from the Minerva Press! I’ve devoured every one of your novels in the last few months, ma’am. Truly, they’ve been my salvation ever since I arrived in this country. And to actually take part in a reading of one of your own unpublished works—!”
Aunt Parry blinked rapidly, her cheeks flushing, while her other guests rustled and murmured with an affectionate mixture of encouragement and amusement. Georgie gazed at the newcomer with half-lowered eyelids and an air of intense appreciation that sent a trickle of dread down Rose’s spine. Oh, dear. She hoped very much that she wasn’t correct in her sudden presentiment of the newcomer’s identity, but ...
“I haven’t introduced you to my niece yet, have I?” With visible relief, Aunt Parry swerved from compliments to introductions. “Rose, dear, this is our delightful new neighbour, Sir Gareth’s niece, Miss Thomas. When Miss Conway explained that Miss Mostyn wouldn’t be able to join her for tonight’s reading, Miss Thomas was kind enough to ride to our rescue at a moment’s notice and take on our final role.”
“Miss Thomas.” Rose smiled weakly as she curtseyed to a lady who looked very much in possession of herself and in no need of being rescued. Rose could only pray that Miss Thomas hadn’t been sent here by her uncle on a mission of dragon-related espionage. From the look in Georgie’s eyes, Rose suspected that her cousin could be persuaded into telling this new neighbour everything. “But Aunt, I don’t understand. I thought your novel was set in medieval times and at a tournament—?”
“No, no, no. That wasn’t working at all!” Aunt Parry shuddered. “No, I’m returning to poor Gwinthlean at long last; her fate escaped me last year, but I’m almost certain I have it now. So, if you’ll take your script and find your seat ...”
Rose accepted the proffered sheaf of papers with a sinking feeling. Beth’s neat handwriting covered these particular pages; it must have taken her, Georgie, Serena and Carys all working together with Aunt Parry in a mad scramble this afternoon to make enough copies for this impromptu performance. Judging by the number of pages in Rose’s hand, Rose wasn’t likely to find time for any dragon-based private conversations for hours yet to come. “Ah ...?”
“Unless your head is still hurting you after all?” Aunt Parry’s brow wrinkled in immediate concern.
Guilt stifled Rose’s sigh. “Not at all,” she promised, and she forced a bright smile. “Of course I’ll be delighted to help.”
