Page 119 of Rivals at Ashmore Castle

‘She was all I had.’ He sat up, wiped his wet face with his palms like a child. ‘There was just the two of us. Now I’m all alone.’

She found her handkerchief and gave it to him, watched as he dried his face and blew his nose. He turned to look at her. ‘Why are you here?’

‘Worried about you,’ she said.

Faint hope came into his face. ‘Were you?’

‘I could see you weren’t at service. Then Higgins said you were ill.’ She looked around the kitchen to avoid his insistent gaze. ‘This place could do with a good bottoming. That Molly Gale doesn’t clean into the corners. She doesn’t keep it like your sister did.’

‘Martha was a good housekeeper,’ he said.

‘And a good cook,’ Rose managed to say, though her lips were stiff with reluctance. The woman had tried to poison her, for goodness’ sake!

His eyes were scanning her, knowing her thoughts, honouring her intentions. ‘Rose,’ he said, ‘why won’t you marry me?’

She recoiled a little. Her face shut down. ‘Not that again,’ she said.

‘Please. I want to understand. You know I love you—’

‘You just want a wife to cook and clean for you,’ she interrupted.

‘You also know that’s not true. If that’s all I wanted I could look elsewhere. Not to be boastful, but there’s plenty of girls would take me. But I don’t want any other girl. It’s you I want. We’re good together, aren’t we? And I believe you care for me. You wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t care for me.’

Suddenly, shockingly, her thorns were gone, and he was looking into a yawning loneliness that put his own into the shade. He saw a younger, desperately hurt Rose, which for some reason brought the image to his mind of a hare he had once seen, torn and limping, fleeing the hounds.

‘Oh, Rose,’ he said breathlessly, ‘what is it?’

‘There’s things you don’t know about me,’ she said.

‘Tell me, then.’

‘If you knew, you’d hate me. And if we wed, you’d find out.’

‘I could never hate you. It can’t be so bad. You can tell me.’

There was a pause, like the world holding its breath, as she searched his face.

‘I’m not a virgin,’ she said. ‘Now you know.’

‘Oh,’ he said.

She waited one heartbeat, but he said nothing more. The pain was like a blow. She had to get out. She pushed back her chair so hard it fell with a crash. ‘You see? I told you so.’

She was across the room so fast that he hadn’t even drawn breath. It was only as she closed the door behind her that she heard him say, ‘Don’t go!’

Too late, she thought, as she almost ran from the yard. Anything he said now would be second thoughts. The first reaction was the true one. And he’d said, ‘Oh.’

She’d been right not to tell, stupid to have given in.

It was years since she had cried, but she cried that night, in her narrow iron bed. She cried because for a moment she had hoped.

You should never hope.

‘How is Frederick doing below stairs?’ Giles asked, as Afton received his tweed knickerbockers from him. The men of the house had all been out shooting. ‘Barnes, I should say.’

‘Very well, my lord,’ said Afton. ‘He seems to have slipped into the role seamlessly, if I might put it so.’

‘He seems very confident upstairs,’ Giles said. ‘So everything is harmonious in the servants’ hall, is it?’