Page 3 of The Perfect Rose

“I hate her.” Miriam pouted as she flung herself onto the settee across from him, her favorite book, Romeo and Juliet, clutched to her chest, her golden-blonde hair that matched his own fanning out on the cushions.

Frederick looked heavenward and took a deep breath. Miriam was meant for the stage. “Who is it you hate?”

“Lady Rose. Her father just doubled her dowry. I was walking with Miss Trenton, and I overheard Lady Gardner tell Miss Jones. With Miss Jones’s tongue, everyone will know by sundown. Twenty thousand pounds. How is anyone supposed to compete with that? And why would she need it? She’s the daughter of an earl, the most beautiful woman in town, and smarter than is good for her.”

Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “And as soft as a porcupine, gentle as a dragon, and humble as the Prince Regent himself.” If ever there was something to discourage Miriam further, this news was it. Even worse, there was nothing Frederick could do to fix the issue. “In short, her parents are likely desperate for someone brave enough to take her off their hands, and they need to provide extra incentive for the deed to be done.” He set down his paper. “Quite frankly, I feel bad for her . . . But I feel worse for whichever gentleman is desperate enough to marry her.”

Miriam sat up straight and narrowed her eyes at him. “You claim to have no attraction to her? None at all?”

Frederick averted his eyes. The truth of his feelings was far more complicated, but he wasn’t going to tell that to his younger sister. “I can safely say that I am at the bottom of her list of admirers. She is quite lovely to look at—which, I will have you know, is a major fault. Beauty tends to mask what is inside. The only exception to that rule is you, sister. I can allow you to be beautiful because you are required to love me, and I know you well enough that you cannot hide your goodness from me.” Frederick winked at her. She smiled fondly back at him, and he felt his heart grow a little bit. Miriam’s smiles, her genuine smiles, were hard earned, and they had been in short supply as of late.

“But be plain with me, Frederick. Do you believe yourself to be immune to her charms as well?”

“Of course. You know I do not plan to marry. I’ve already altered the will to pass Greenridge Manor to you upon my death, for that very reason.” Frederick made the decision to pass the Hereford estate on to his sister two years ago, when he decided against marriage in the wake of Kendra’s duplicity. He’d needed to make sure the lives of their tenants would be in good hands, and he trusted Miriam, even though she was only fifteen at the time when he’d made the change. “Now all you have to do is provide an heir one day.”

Miriam grimaced but covered it with a fake laugh. “Very well, if you are certain you will not marry her, I have a proposition to make. We must host a house party, and Lady Rose must be invited.”

Frederick stuck a finger inside his ear and twisted it about in disbelief. “Did I hear you right? You want to invite the one woman you hate above all others to our home for an extended period of time, live in her presence, and then what . . . try to secure yourself a husband at the same time? Are you ill?”

Miriam stood and paced before the windows. “Perhaps I am. But what else did you expect when I entered the marriage mart? Don’t you see? Lady Rose can only marry one gentleman. Her presence here would induce even the highest ranking of the peerage to attend, and when she then scares every suitor from her, they will still be left with me.”

How had Miriam been reduced to this? To feel she was nothing better than a soft landing spot for someone whose pride was injured? “No, Miriam. You deserve a gentleman who cares for you above all else, not someone who takes you like scraps from the table. This plan of yours is madness.”

“Yes, but it is my plan Frederick, so that means it at least has a slight chance of working out, unlike any plans of your own. Besides, I could learn from Lady Rose as well. It is no secret that she is the most accomplished woman in all of England. I could watch her and learn from what she does. Mother has been gone so long I can hardly remember her. Here is an opportunity for me to absorb information from Lady Rose and her mother. They are frightening, I know that. But there is a power in her that I cannot ignore.”

Frederick sat back and thought about Lady Rose. Could he allow such a beautiful woman into his home, even for a few short weeks, and not be taken in? He mentally examined his heart and felt nothing . . . good. Miriam could learn quite a lot from the Gardner women. They were one of the most respected families in the peerage, even if most people catered to them simply to avoid the displeasure of Lady Gardner. The woman was terrifying at best.

Still, it wasn’t worth it. If Miriam were to turn herself into another version of Lady Rose, he would only be doing her a disservice. He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, Miriam. I cannot in good conscience put you in such a situation. You will find a husband, but you are in no rush to do so. Next season, Lady Rose will be unhappily married to some wretched man, and you will be free to take the ton by the nose.”

Miriam sniffed and excused herself, leaving Frederick wondering if he’d made the right decision. He was her brother, protector, and provider. He despised that she was upset with him, but he would make it up to her. She would be smiling again soon. In the meantime, he would go visit Jackson’s Boxing Saloon to work off some of his tense energy, a habit he’d not been able to break since the betrayal. It felt good to pummel something when his emotions threatened to take control.

Chapter Three

Rose had a breakfast tray delivered to her room; she was completely unsuited to company in her current state. It had been less than forty-eight hours since her dowry had doubled, and news had spread faster than fire in a pile of hay. A flood of dinner invitations and balls were piled high in her mother’s eager hands, and the calling hours had been extended so that Rose would be able to at least greet all the gentlemen that crawled with their tails between their legs, attempting to gain her attention . . . again.

She had been invited to dinner and dancing at the home of a baron. The evening was all a blur, and his name was of no importance, just his title. Rose had danced and dined and performed like a puppet on a string. Her mother had displayed Rose as if she was on the inside of a shop window, a porcelain doll, of sorts, to be seen and admired, yet silent. She was warned to keep her mouth shut about any topic other than the weather: Rose considered later that she should have forecasted the storm that was raging behind her own calm facade.

It was rainy today, meaning she’d have to spend all day indoors with her mother and a million other gentlemen that wanted her dowry. Rose looked down at her breakfast tray and pushed away her eggs. Her appetite wasn’t functioning correctly. She’d always loved breakfast but now the thought of eating made her sick. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

What if she were sick? She’d be able to spend all day in her room and catch up on some much-needed sleep, maybe even read a book. She’d snuck one of Bell’s novels into the bottom of her trunk before they left their estate. It wasn’t a strong act of defiance, but it was something. Not that she had been brave enough to even remove it from its secure hiding place as of yet.

Rose rang for her maid and asked her to tell her mother she was ill. Then, she crawled back into bed and tried to get comfortable for a long nap. Before Rose could even close her eyes properly, however, the door to her room swung open, banging against the wall and sending the portraits on the wall swinging slightly.

“The sun is up, Rose. It’s high time you were as well,” her mother announced as she threw open the drapes.

Rose took a deep breath. “Mother, I am not feeling well. I have no appetite, and no energy. Besides, it’s raining.”

As her mother’s annoyed eyes scrutinized the room and landed on Rose’s face, Rose knew that she was not being given a choice in the matter. Frustration and acceptance settled in Rose’s chest against her will.

“It’s best you not eat, then. We can’t have you losing your breakfast during your ride in Hyde Park this morning with Lord Hawthorne. And if you faint from hunger, there will be plenty of suitors around to catch you. Yes, I do believe this situation will work in our favor.”

Rose could not hold her tongue. “Lord Hawthorne is sixty-two years old with two daughters older than I am. You cannot be serious.” But the firm line of her mother’s lips was enough to show just how serious she actually was. “Please, allow me to at least marry someone within ten years of my age. It will not look like a successful match to society otherwise. It will look desperate.”

“It is desperate, Rose.”

Rose understood the feeling of desperation well. She was experiencing it at the very moment even speaking of marrying a man so old, but how could she make her mother understand? “You and I know that, but surely it would reflect poorly on Bell and Lavender and Ash.” Rose would never use her youngest brother as a pawn in her scheme unless it was absolutely critical. But there was only so much of her own happiness she could bear to surrender.

She could practically see her mother giving in to her plea. “You must ride out with Lord Hawthorne so that you can make it to all your other appointments today. But I will not encourage his suit.”