The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(45)
Unbearable longing flooded Rosie. What would it be like to have Andrew look at her that way? To allow herself to be possessed by him… to surrender to the desire blazing between them?
In that same instant, she realized she was standing there like a Peeping Tom, intruding upon a highly intimate moment. Mortified, she whipped around, rounding the doorway—and collided with the butler.
They rebounded off one another, she landing on her bottom, he reeling backward with a grunt, a tray flying from his hands. Tea and pastries rained through the air, and silverware clanged to the floor in a finale worthy of an orchestra.
Seconds later, Polly appeared, the earl behind her.
“What in heavens?” she exclaimed. “Are the two of you all right?”
“My apologies!” His face red and flustered, Harvey, the butler, rushed to help Rosie up—only to realize that the hand he’d extended was covered in clotted cream.
“I’ve got it, Harvey.” Revelstoke hauled Rosie to her feet.
“I don’t know how I could be so careless,” Harvey began.
“It was my fault entirely,” Rosie mumbled. “I was going too fast…”
She trailed off, catching the chagrinned look Polly cast at Revelstoke. For most of her life, Polly had possessed a unique gift for sensing other’s emotions. Polly had always considered the extraordinary ability a plague and had been glad to be rid of it, yet her natural perspicacity remained. She’d obviously guessed the cause of Rosie’s clumsy flight.
Not wanting to embarrass the other or herself further, Rosie muttered, “I’ll, um, get changed.”
A few minutes after she arrived in her room, a knock sounded. She went to the door.
Polly stood there, chewing on her lip. “I thought you could use some help.”
“Thank you, dear.” To hide her mortification, Rosie ushered the other in. Opening the wardrobe, she said lightly, “What shall I wear—the black… or the black?”
A smile tucked in Polly’s cheeks. “The black?”
“Excellent choice.”
She took down the ebony taffeta and hung it on the dressing screen next to the chevalier glass.
Polly came over to help, keeping her eyes studiously on the buttons she was undoing. “I’m sorry about what you saw.” Embarrassment quivered in her voice. “Sinjin and I—”
“Are newlyweds,” Rosie said in a rush. “Truly, there’s no need to apologize. You’ve both been so gracious whilst I’ve intruded on your privacy.”
“Nonsense. Our home is your home. But what you must think of us—”
“I think you deserve every happiness, dearest. And the truth is… I’ve been thinking that I need a place of my own.”
The idea had been percolating for the last week. As cordial as Polly and the earl had been, there was no denying the awkwardness of living with newlyweds; Rosie felt like a fifth wheel. She also didn’t want to return to her parents’ house. Not just because of the rift with her mother—which she was gathering the courage to address—but because she was beginning to see the truth: that was no longer her home.
She wasn’t the innocent girl she’d once been. She was a widow, and as brief as her marriage had been, it had changed everything. She was now the Countess of Daltry, and she had to use that hard-earned status to carve out a future for herself.
“You can stay here as long as you want,” Polly insisted.
“I know that, dear. I also know that I cannot live in limbo forever.” Rosie bit her lip. “I’ve bungled things up so badly—with the elopement and my reckless behavior before that. I can’t change the past, but I can take responsibility for my future. I’m an independent woman now; it’s time I started to act like one.”
“But moving into your own place?” Polly’s eyes were wide. “Won’t you be lonely?”
“Solitude might do me good. Once the mourning period is over, I’ll have social activities to keep me busy—especially if I can convince Daltry’s aunts to sponsor me.” At the reading of the will tomorrow, she would start her campaign to win the approval of Mrs. James and Lady Charlotte.
Polly’s brow furrowed. “But where would you live? And how would you afford it?”
So there were a few details Rosie hadn’t ironed out yet.
“I haven’t the faintest how much a lease would cost,” she admitted. “Do you know?”
Polly shook her head. “I could ask Sinjin. I’m sure he would know.”
“I wouldn’t need anything extravagant: a small cottage would do. I have my allowance from Mama and Papa. If they forbid my plans, then I… I’ll simply sell my jewelry and gowns,” Rosie said determinedly. “If I must, I’ll find a way to finance my future.”
“I doubt such drastic measures will be necessary.” Her sister’s voice was dry. “And speaking of your future, I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
Polly helped Rosie out of her stained dress and into a robe. “What about Mr. Corbett?”
Since returning from Gretna, Rosie had told Polly about all her interactions with Andrew—with the exception of her last visit. As much as she loved Polly, some things were just too difficult to share. Asking a gentleman to rid one of one’s virginity topped the list.