Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(59)

With a sigh, he dragged his feet to the large stairway and slowly ascended. The woman had been put through so much, why was he always the cause of her pain?

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Rosalind dreamt of the day she danced with Stefan in the snow. Of the playful way he teased her, and his horrid proposals and finally his kisses.

She awoke to the smell of hot biscuits and tea.

“That’s it.” Mary said sitting on the bed. “I knew a good cup of tea would wake you up, after all, it’s said to have healing properties. Mr. Fitzgerald brought it over first thing this morning. Worried sick, he is.”

Rosalind smiled, but didn’t reach for the tea. But who could blame her? With nerves as strong as a feather she wanted nothing more than to see her husband and have a good cry. Well that, and perhaps a blood sizzling kiss.

“Ahem.” A male voice came from the doorway.

“Stefan!” Rosalind didn’t mean to yell, but she couldn’t help the relief she felt at seeing his face.

“I see your voice hasn’t met any harm, just as loud as ever. Ah Mary good to see you, do you per chance have our cane close by?”

Mary grunted and sauntered out of the room.

“I think she’s beginning to like me,” Stefan grinned and closed the door, locking it behind him. “How do you feel, Rose?”

Her breath hitched, which was all it took for Stefan to rush to her side and pull her into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Rose. I swear I’ll make it better. I swear it.”

“Just hold me.”

“With pleasure.” Stefan pushed the hair away from her eyes and kissed her eye lids. “I could not bear to lose you, Rose.”

“Did she truly…?”

“Your mother was mad, Rose. A sane woman would never cause her children harm.”

Rosalind nodded.

“I need to tell you something, and I fear it isn’t going to make you feel any better. Would you rather I waited until you were out of bed and walking?”

How much worse could it get? “Tell me now, please. Just promise not to let go of me.”

“I believe I can manage.” Stefan pulled her into his lap, cradling her head in the crook of his shoulder. “Your father…” he paused and looked away. “He was a good man.”

Rosalind turned her head to look Stefan in the eye. “Yes...” Her words were tentative, “…was that what you wanted to say?”

“For now…” Stefan bit his lip. “Well, that and both your sisters seem to be missing now. Gwen has gone after Isabelle. Apparently she understands more of that horrid language than she let on. For she took the betrothal contract with her. A note was left that she would return once she reached the location where Isabelle was taken. Unfortunately, she refused to tell us where that specific location was.”

Rosalind shuddered. She should have known Gwen would do something like this. “We have to go after her.”

“We will do nothing. I, however, have plans to do exactly that.” Stefan pushed the hair away from her brow and bent near to bestow a kiss upon her face. “There is something else.”

Rosalind felt the all too familiar choking fear. “What is it?”

“I’ve failed you.”

“How? I don’t understand.”

Stefan cursed. “Both your sisters are missing. I’m supposed to take care of you. How am I to do that when I cannot even take care of two young girls? Not to mention be outsmarted by them, but what’s worse, what’s worse...” he repeated and looked down. “Your father is not truly your father.”

“I don’t understand your meaning.” A cold chill shook her core.

“The earl, who died—he was not your father. Your mother said as much when she tried to poison you.”

“But how are you failing me?”

Stefan took a deep breathe and released another string of curses. “As of today, your mother has broken her silence. I’ve tried to do my best Rosalind. But gossip is rampant that you and your sisters are bastards.”

Rosalind gasped, and began to choke on her sobs. “But, my parents were married, they were…”

“Your parents, your true parents were not married Rosalind. Your father claimed you as his, but the damage my dear, has already been done.”

“You cannot be married to me.” Rosalind’s voice shook. Her hands wrung the bed sheet as her mind tormented her with images of Stefan again and again.

“I’m not the true descendant, the one to break the curse am I?”

“For the last time, there is no curse, but you are correct. It apparently now falls to another woman, your cousin Maleficent.”

Rosalind could not speak, words would not come out of her mouth not even when she tried to force her lips to move. “So the contract between our families….”

“The contract says I need to marry the true blood relation of the Earl of Hariss.”

Rosalind pushed his hand away. “Then you must do as it says. You are, after all, a duke.”

She kept her voice cold; she had to. How could she allow him to stay married to her? She wasn’t even the way to solve the curse, if one existed, and now she had her doubts. Perhaps her mother was truly mad and poisoning everyone, herself included. It would make sense, which meant, Rosalind had no reason to truly be stayed to Stefan. Other than loving him with all her heart.