Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(41)

Gathering her skirts she walked slowly towards the door and spoke without turning around. “I am anything but delicate.”

His body begged and pleaded for him to race after her, to slam the door in her face and push her body up against it. He had to close his eyes to fight the emotions swelling within him. Stefan was truly worried that he wouldn’t make it. An insane godmother with aversions to pink, a suspicious valet, an enraged mother, a temptress, and a horse that acted more like a person than an animal. If he walked away without going mad, he would count himself fortunate.

Later on in the evening, his body fought for control. Part of him demanded he find Rosalind’s rooms and finish what they started. The other half told him to find sleep in any way possible.

Neither won, which come morning left him in a foul mood. It did nothing to help matters that on impulse he had slept in the library in order to protect Rosalind. At least that was what he told himself, though he wondered if he was more worried about himself attacking her or her mother. Most likely, it was a tie, leaving him again aggravated.

He pulled at his shirtsleeves and managed to make himself presentable before jumping into his carriage and making haste for his own home, leaving a note that he would return to Rosalind within a few hours once he was presentable.

Nothing sounded better than a good night’s rest and a strong cup of tea. He could almost feel his bed and taste the bitter brew on his lips as he took the steps two at a time to his London townhome in Mayfair.

He lifted his hand to knock just as the door swung open.

“Stefan?” His brother James looked alarmed. “Whatever are you doing here? Have you failed in some way?”

Grinding his teeth against the urge to pummel his brother for asking so many questions at such an early hour, Stefan merely shook his head in a grunt and pushed his brother aside. His luggage was brought in hastily and somewhat clumsily. He knew he could at least sleep one hour before having to ready for the day and return to Rosalind’s before her mother got any notion to eat her young.





Chapter Fifteen


The course of true love never did run smooth—A Midsummer Night’s Dream



Rosalind woke at an early hour after a fitful night of sleep. It was astonishing that she felt as rested as she did. Looking in the mirror at her still swollen lips, her thoughts drifted towards Stefan, her soon to be husband. How she desperately had wanted him to take away all the doubt and fear that consumed her thoughts enough to force her to seek solitude in the library. Instead, he had done the honorable thing.

It appeared she was wrong about many things, Stefan included. Yes, he was arrogant and at times an absolute brute, but when it counted—when she really needed a shoulder to cry on, or comforting words, he was there.

Rosalind performed her morning toilette briskly and went in search of her sisters. They were as unalike as any siblings could be. The youngest, Isabelle had chestnut hair, blue eyes, and was a petite little thing. Everyone who met her immediately fell in love with her sweet disposition. Rosalind’s mother had often fought with Rosalind over the fact that she was so blunt and stubborn. Her mother’s desire was for Rosalind to be more like Isabelle. It just wasn’t in Rosalind’s character to be that way.

Gwendolyn, the middle daughter had long dark hair that fell in waves down her back. She was the envy of woman everywhere simply because her skin was so fair it gave off the illusion of a pearl. She had ice blue eyes and a dangerous smile, but often kept to herself. It was Rosalind who had been launched first. Her sisters were stowed away at the family estate until it was time for their debut. It seemed everything was put on pause since her father’s death. Rosalind couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different if he were still alive.

Hallways once filled with laughter were void of human touch. Dust floated into the air as Rosalind made her way to her sisters’ bedrooms. She stopped outside Isabelle’s door and knocked.

“Enter,” came a small voice from inside.

Rosalind pushed open the door and gasped. Isabelle, was sitting near the fireplace with Gwendolyn on one side of her brushing out the long chestnut hair.

“Sisters!” Rosalind ran to them expecting them to politely stare at her, they hadn’t spoken since her father’s death. Her mother had poisoned them against her ever since the broken betrothal contract was severed, leaving her even more estranged from her family than she ever thought possible.

“Rosalind!” Isabelle jumped from her seat and threw her arms around her waist. “You’ve come home! Isn’t it wonderful, Gwen?”

Gwendolyn smiled and walked over to the pair a tear running down her cheek. “I wished for your return every day, sister. Tell me you are well.”

Rosalind thought about telling the truth but hadn’t her sisters suffered enough? Swallowing the lie, she smiled. “I’m better than I’ve ever been! And I’m to be married!”

“Married?” They said in unison.

“To whom?” Gwen spoke up first.

Rosalind grinned as memories of Stefan’s kiss came flooding back. “To the Duke of Montmouth.”

Isabelle paled. “Does mother know then? That you intend to marry him and break the curse?”

“Yes, of course, why?” Rosalind shrugged.

Isabelle’s eyes flickered to Gwen then back to Rosalind. “She hasn’t been well since you left Rose. We fear, well we fear something is amiss. We’ve been prisoners in our own home it seems. The servants are gone. There is hardly food on the table. We were left with nothing. To make matters worse Willard won’t let us see her but a few hours a day, and after she drinks that blasted tea she sleeps for days.”