Page 46 of The Perfect Rose

“Of course.” Rose turned to Mr. Redford. “Please excuse me, Mr. Redford. Thank you for walking with me.” She smiled from her heart. He really was a sweet man. She didn’t miss the disappointment in his eyes, and she felt a pang of guilt. Once this house party was over, at least she wouldn’t be hurting anyone’s feelings anymore, everything would be settled and decided, and she could move on. Why any debutantes wanted multiple men’s attentions was beyond her scope of understanding.

Rose saw her mother’s eyes narrow as she watched her leave the room with the dowager. It was her contemplative look, not necessarily her look of displeasure. Rose looked heavenward; she didn’t even want to know what her mother was thinking.

“Mr. Redford is a good man.”

Rose nodded her agreement. “Yes, he is.” She could feel that bubble of guilt filling her up inside.

“He appreciates your beauty and kindness, but he does not understand your capacity nor your strengths.”

Rose took a deep breath. “I don’t know that anyone really understands me that well.”

Lady Gilfordshire stopped on the stair they were on and looked at Rose so pointedly, she likely saw right down into her soul. “Can you think of no one?”

Rose blinked fast. An image of Frederick sitting on a rock by the river’s edge flitted through her mind. It was the moment he’d learned of her unique circumstances. He’d seen the broken parts of her but seemed to accept her for the battle she fought for her own happiness. She swallowed.

“I thought so. Now, I said I was going to give you something.” She continued up the stairs as if she hadn’t just told Rose that Frederick Hastings was the one man who knew her, the real her. Rose’s mind was still whirling as she followed.

Lady Gilfordshire opened the door to her room and motioned for Rose to join her. The sitting room they walked into was lavishly decorated in burgundy and gold brocade, a plush rug covering the center of the floor. Rose took a seat across from Lady Gilfordshire as if she were there to take tea. “This is a beautiful room.” She ran her hand along the soft fabric of the armchair.

“Frederick redecorated it for me a few years ago. I feel almost as at home here as I do in Gilfordshire.”

“He redecorated it for you? I wasn’t aware you were here that often.”

The dowager duchess looked into the empty fireplace. “I’m not. I believe he did it to entice me to stay longer when I do come. It works, too. You see, Frederick never has been the same since his parents’ death. He hides it well, of course, behind a mask of smiles and laughter. But as much as he tries to make other people happy, I wonder if he includes himself.”

How selfish Rose was in comparison. She’d spent the past few months trying, albeit in vain, only to secure her own happiness. She hadn’t thought of those around her aside from what they would or wouldn’t gain from an alliance formed with her. Frederick, on the other hand, had done nothing but work to make others happy: helping Miriam to make the house party a success, and helping Rose to find a match superior to Mr. Dillard. Even though none of the information was new to Rose, it came together in her mind with stronger force than it had before.

Frederick Hastings was Rose’s exact opposite, and she didn’t deserve him.

The truth of that hurt more than the other prunings she’d endured. This time, it was self-inflicted. Her life was so self-absorbed, she was ashamed. She couldn’t face the parlor again tonight.

“I think I’ll turn in early,” Rose choked out as she stood and straightened her dress. “Thank you for having me, Your Grace.” She gave her best curtsey, keeping her eyes downcast to hide their sheen of tears.

“You must hear my advice before you go. It is the reason I dragged you up those stairs after all.”

Rose pulled herself together as well as she could. “I’m sorry! Of course.” She clasped her hands primly in front of her.

“You are not required to accept any gentleman who offers for you, Lady Rose. You can say no,” Lady Gilfordshire’s voice was soft and calming.

Rose tilted her head. “If only that were true.” As much as Rose wished she had that freedom, her mother would step in after the ball and arrange a future for Rose whether she wanted it or not. “I have to make some very serious decisions by tomorrow night.”

“I didn’t say you always have to say no, but that you can say no. There is a difference. Have faith in your best dream.”

Her best dream . . . she’d been unable to picture it until very recently. She wanted to be loved, to be treated with kindness. But she also wanted to laugh and learn and not be scared of the implications of making mistakes. Like a compass was bound to point north, her heart pulled her in only one direction.

Her best dream was Frederick Hastings.

Rose crossed the rug and hugged the dowager. She didn’t care that it likely wasn’t appropriate. This woman knew more about life and love and hope than most. “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

Chapter Thirty-two

Luck did not favor Frederick Hastings. Lady Rose had disappeared from the foray of people inhabiting his house. His only consolation was that Lord Hanby and Owen Redford were still about. With Miriam and Samuel doing something scandalous and Lady Rose missing, what could he do? Who could advise him? As his eyes took another frantic sweep around room, he saw that even Her Grace had turned in for the night. There was no one to talk to, no one who he wanted to know about his dilemma.

Lord Hanby was in conversation with Lady Gardner while they enjoyed their desserts. That pairing had disaster for Frederick written all over it. He sauntered over to join them. “How do you like your desserts?”

Lady Gardner looked Frederick over with a small smile. That was odd. She usually met him with cool indifference. “Mr. Hastings, please pull up a chair and join us.”

“Thank you, My Lady.” Frederick racked his brain while he picked up a chair and moved it to the grouping next to the fireplace. Why would Rose’s mother suddenly welcome him into her conversations?