As she continued her work, Rose resolved to stay cautious and keep her distance from Mr. Trent. She needed to focus on herduties and ensure that the manor ran smoothly, especially in light of the recent troubles. And she needed to watch over the duke, to make sure he recovered fully and was safe from any further harm.
Rose was lost in her thoughts when a sudden commotion outside broke her reverie. She looked out the window and her heart nearly stopped. There near the barn, on the ground, was William, being kicked by three boys. Her brother Henry was among them. Horrified, she dropped the flowers she was holding and rushed outside, her skirts flying as she ran.
“Stop it!” she shouted. “Stop it this instant!”
The boys hesitated, their kicks faltering as they turned to see who was shouting. Henry’s face turned pale as he recognized his sister. The other boys immediately ran away, guilt and fear evident on their faces. Henry, however, stood his ground, though his expression was conflicted.
“What on earth are you doing, Henry? Have you lost your mind?” she exclaimed incredulously, unable to believe that her brother was truly capable of such monstrosities.
Henry didn’t say anything at first. He looked at her with malice she had never seen before. It made her almost afraid of her own brother. But she refused to look away, even for a single moment. Then he spoke.
“Don’t you get it, Rose?” he asked, shaking his head. “This is all your fault! I had to do all of this… because of you!”
Chapter 20
“Because of me?” Rose asked incredulously. “What do you mean?”
Henry hesitated to speak at first, but he finally mustered the courage to do so, revealing everything. “When I told my friends that you started working as a maid for the duke, they said he was going to hurt you. I… I have to protect you, Rose. You are my sister.”
She shook her head, feeling overwhelmed by everything she had just heard. “That isn’t true, Henry, and you know it. Deep down, you do. You cannot tell me you are a fool who will always take the word of others over his own sense of righteousness. You know this isn’t right. Mother and father have taught you better than that.”
“The duke should know what is right,” he snapped back. It is because of him that all my friends’ families are poor! It is his fault that our uncle died just after the duke dismissed him from his position at the manor! And now, you work for him! Is that right? Is that fair?”
“You have no idea what you are talking about, Henry,” she told him angrily. “You are full of bitterness, just like the rest of the villagers. You cannot see truth from all the judgments you’ve made over the years.”
At that moment, the duke stirred on the ground.
“Quickly, go!” she urged him. “Before the duke wakes up!”
“No!” Henry refused. “I will not leave you alone with him. He will hurt you.”
“The only one hurting me here is you, Henry!” she snarled back at him. “You should leave at once, and hope that I can forgive you for what you have done.”
Henry seemed to have much more to say, but one glance in the duke’s direction assured him that she was right. He had to go. Just as Henry disappeared from view, Mr. Trent emerged from the manor. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene: the duke on the ground, Rose kneeling beside him, her hands stained with dirt and blood.
“What on earth is going on here?” Mr. Trent demanded, his voice sharp with concern and suspicion.
Rose looked up, her heart pounding in her chest. She hoped fervently that Henry had managed to leave before Mr. Trent could notice him. “Mr. Trent, please, help me get the duke inside,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’m not sure what happened. He’s hurt.”
Mr. Trent’s gaze flicked toward the direction the boys had fled, a frown creasing his brow, but he didn’t ask further. Instead, he quickly moved to William’s side, his expression softening with worry. Together, they brought him inside, laying him down on the chaise lounge in the drawing room.
“Mr. Trent, could you please go and see if there are some bandages and a basin of clean water? I need to clean his wounds properly.”
Mr. Trent hesitated for a moment, glancing between Rose and the unconscious Duke. Then, with a nod, he turned and hurried out of the room. Rose stayed by William’s side, her hands trembling slightly as she continued to dab at his wounds with the damp cloth. Each breath he took was shallow and labored, and she fought to keep her own breathing steady.
It wasn’t long before a maid arrived, carrying a basin of clean water, bandages, and some additional cloths. Rose thanked her quickly and set to work, her focus entirely on William. She dipped a fresh cloth into the clean water and began gently cleaning the dirt and blood from his face and hands.
“You’re going to be all right,” she whispered, her voice soothing and soft. “Just hold on.”
As she worked, memories of the previous night flooded her mind—how she had kissed his forehead and scars, the way he hadlooked at her, the kiss they had shared. Her heart ached with the confusion and intensity of her feelings. She hadn’t expected any of this, but she couldn’t deny the connection she felt with him.
“Rose…” Wiliam’s voice was faint, barely a whisper. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused.
“I’m here, Your Grace,” she said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I will take care of you. Try to rest.”
***
But William couldn’t rest. His eyelids fluttered, his vision slowly clearing as he came to consciousness. The soft light of the room was almost too bright, and he squinted against it, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The first thing he saw clearly was Rose’s worried face hovering above him.
