He got up, pacing about the study like a caged animal, raking his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking, talkingto her so late at night? His thoughts lingered on her tantalizing silhouette underneath the thin fabric of her robe, as he kept reverting to that scene in his mind.
He, a strange man marked by horrible scars, had imposed on her privacy. The image of her in her robe haunted him, a poignant reminder of how lovely, how sweet, how vulnerable and out of place she must have felt.
He sighed heavily, clenching his fists, as frustration and guilt mingled in his chest. She must have been so embarrassed. It made complete sense why she couldn’t wait to get away from him fast enough the following day, leaving without even saying goodbye. He pictured her hurried departure, imagining her eagerness to escape the awkwardness and discomfort he had unwittingly caused.
Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted him. He knew who it was immediately.
“Come in,” he called to Mr. Hancock, who appeared a moment later.
“I apologize for the intrusion, Your Grace, but you have a letter as well as a visitor,” he informed him.
“A letter and a visitor?” William mused incredulously. “That is more than I have had in the year prior all together.”
Mr. Hancock, as always, did not smile. In fact, William wondered if the man even knew how to smile. He didn’t mind it, though. Mr. Hancock had been with his family his entire life, and William trusted him more than anyone else. That had nothing to do with whether the man knew how to smile or not.
“This is the letter in question, Your Grace,” Mr. Hancock approached, offering him the letter, which William accepted.
“Thank you, Hancock,” William acknowledged, taking a closer, more introspective glance at it.
He was surprised to see it was from his old friend, Stephen Trent, the son of Viscount Fulton. He hadn’t heard from Stephen since he returned from the war, and even without having opened the letter, a mix of emotions stormed inside of him. There was surprise, curiosity, and a pang of guilt for having lost touch with Stephen. Their shared experiences during the war, the camaraderie, and the hardships they endured together had once been the cornerstones of his life. But after coming back, scarred and changed, he had withdrawn from those connections, from everyone.
“And what of your visitor, Your Grace?” Mr. Hancock interrupted William’s flow of thought.
“Oh, yes,” William snapped back to reality, having completely forgotten about that part. “Who is it?”
“It is Miss Rose Browning, Your Grace,” Mr. Hancock spoke with much annoyance, and it didn’t escape William’s notice.
William, on the other hand, felt exactly the opposite upon hearing her name.
“I have informed her that you do not take visits from people from the village,” Mr. Hancock reminded William of his own orders, “but she insisted on seeing you.”
William’s heart was beating faster at the mention of Rose. However, he quickly composed himself, trying to contain his excitement. “Yes, we have a business matter to discuss, Hancock. Please, show her in.”
Mr. Hancock nodded curtly and then left the room. William inhaled deeply, smoothing his clothes and running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. He could hardly believe that Rose was there, and after the uncertainty and guilt that had been swarming inside his mind, he now had a chance to see her again and perhaps even right some wrongs.
A moment later, the door opened and Mr. Hancock walked in with Rose. “Miss Rose Browning for you, Your Grace,” Mr. Hancock spoke as if every word of it was causing him actual physical pain.
“Thank you, Hancock,” William nodded. “That will be all.”
Mr. Hancock lingered there for a few moments, almost as if he refused to leave his master in the company of his guest, but eventually, he nodded and left them alone. William looked at Rose approaching her. She looked poised and slightly apprehensive, but there was a certain determination in her eyes. William’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of her.
“Rose,” he said. “Welcome back.”
It didn’t even occur to him to refer to her in any way other than her given name. He had saved her life. That earned him that right.
Rose offered a small smile, although her expression remained serious. “Your Grace, I do apologize for appearing unannounced. But I felt it was important to speak with you.”
“Of course,” he assured her, gesturing at a chair near his writing table. “Please, take a seat. I am happy you came.”
That much was true. It was as if he had beckoned her to come with the sheer power of his mind. And now she was here, right in front of him.
She took the offered seat, and William sat down opposite her, his earlier thoughts about their last encounter flooding him. He wanted to apologize, to explain, but he didn’t know where to start. Perhaps he would be able to weave it all into the conversation effortlessly as it flowed. She had obviously come to him to share something, so he needed to listen to her first and see what she had to say.
“I… I wanted to apologize first for leaving so abruptly the other morning,” she began, looking apologetic and apprehensive. “It wasn’t my intention to cause any distress or seem ungrateful. I merely wished to go home and assure my family that everything was all right.”
William shook his head. “There is no need to apologize, Rose. I… I was worried that it was me who made you uncomfortable. It is I who should be apologizing.”
This time, she smiled wider. And there was a sparkle of something in her eyes, something that was aimed at him.
