“The duke is a horrible man who dismissed everyone from his manor,” Henry continued.
“There are still a few people working for him, like Mr. Hancock,” Rose was quick to remind him. “And I know for a fact that there are maids and a cook.”
Henry rolled his eyes. “So, three people were kindly allowed to keep their positions. But what about the others? And what about the fact that he is the sort of man who doesn’t refrain from throwing rocks at children, hurting them in the process?”
Rose had to admit once again that she had no retort to that. She realized that she had the chance to ask the duke about that very incident, yet it did not occur to her.
“I’m sure that he didn’t mean to,” she said sheepishly.
Henry grimaced. “Yes. Right. You throw rocks without the intention of hitting your target.”
“All right, all right, children,” their aunt interfered. “You don’t have to argue. We can discuss this in a nice, calm manner.”
Henry turned to her. “And Uncle…” he said, “we all remember how Uncle was dismissed by this same man, and not having employment any longer, not having the means to take care of his family completely shattered him. He died not long after.”
Rose felt a deep pang inside her chest, as if an invisible hand had gripped her heart and was squeezing harder and harder, making it increasingly more difficult to breathe. She couldn’t find the words to talk back, but she didn’t need to, because her aunt intervened immediately.
“That is not true, Henry,” Aunt Cora shook her head, chastising her nephew gently. “Things were difficult, that much is true, but your uncle didn’t pass away because of the duke. Charles died because he was sick, God rest his sweet soul.”
“That may be so, but the duke certainly helped hasten that process,” Henry refused to acquiesce.
“I will not have you talk that way,” Aunt Cora refused to agree. “Just like Rose said, every man has his destiny, and he holds it in his hands. You may not affect certain things, but you can certainly decide what your reaction to those things will be, and that is where control of your own life lies.”
Rose smiled, locking eyes with her aunt. She was grateful for those wise words more than her aunt could ever know.
“You really think that the duke wants to help us?” Henry continued, leaving the topic of their uncle finally alone. “He probably just helped you so that no one would blame him if the boar ended up hurting you worse that you already were hurt.”
Rose remembered how the duke tended to her, how he cautiously remained in the shadows, not to exacerbate her nervous condition any further. He took every single step to make her feel as comfortable as possible around him. That was not the trait of a selfish monster. She refused to believe that. He was simply a man who had been living under the burden of his scars for far too long, turning bitter, and the people around him understood it differently. Instead of choosing to understand him, they judged him.
“The fact of the matter is that we need the money, Henry,” Rose reminded him gently. She hated arguing with him, so she tried to calm down the situation.
“Not that bad,” Henry scoffed.
“Yes, that bad,” Rose looked in her aunt’s direction. “I know that you’ve been trying to hide it from us, Aunt Cora, but business has been very slow. I’ve noticed. If things remain as they are, I fear that we won’t be able to make ends meet.”
Henry locked gazes with their aunt. “Is that true? Are things really that bad?”
Aunt Cora looked down at her feet, and Rose already knew the answer. So did Henry.
“I didn’t want to worry you, children,” their aunt explained. “We always managed to get by… somehow.”
Rose walked over to her aunt, taking her hands into her own. “You took care of us when we needed you. Now, it is time for me to take care of you both.” She glanced in Henry’s direction as well.
“But Rose—”
“No, Henry,” she cut him off. “I am the older one. I will make this decision on my own, and you will comply.”
Henry swallowed heavily. She could see that he didn’t like it one bit, but that didn’t matter. The truth was, they needed the money. And secretly, she couldn’t help but be curious and intrigued by the enigmatic duke.
“All right,” Rose smiled, diffusing the situation. “How about we have some tea now?”
Chapter 7
Three days had passed, but William felt as if three entire years took place instead. That morning, he was sitting in his study attempting to immerse himself in a book, just as he had been endeavoring to focus on some business matters the previous day. The words on the page seemed to conspire against him, blurring together, refusing to make any sense, as his own focus slipped every few seconds.
He sighed heavily, closing the book. It was evident that his mind was still consumed with thoughts of Rose. She had left early the morning after he had stayed over, slipping away before he had a chance to speak to her. The time they had spent together was all too brief, but he knew that even if he never saw her again, he would never forget her.
Strangely enough, the thought of never seeing her again brought him much displeasure. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Mr. Hancock had informed him that Rose left very early, assuring William that she looked quite well when he escorted her home. This information offered a small measure of relief, but William still couldn’t stop thinking about her and whether she was all right. He realized she must have had obligations to tend to, but the thought that he might have made her uncomfortable that evening weighed heavily on his mind.
