Page 5 of The Perfect Rose

Chapter Four

Frederick glanced at the letter on the silver platter, his name scrolled across the front in familiar handwriting and sealed with his own seal. Miriam. He thanked his footman, Ron, for delivering it and cracked open the parchment.

Dear Mr. Hastings,

I would like to formally invite you to our house party at Greenridge Manor in Hereford in two weeks’ time. I would be honored by your presence. Seeing as there are other guests who have already agreed to attend, I beg your approval. Please send your reply via the footman who is instructed not to leave without your immediate answer.

Yours,

Miriam Hastings (your darling sister whom you love more than anything)

Frederick reread the letter again in denial. What has Miriam gotten us into? He looked up at Ron, who was shifting his weight back and forth, an action more noticeable than would be typical since Ron’s legs were two slightly different lengths ever since he’d served in the war. Frederick waved the letter at him. “Ron, if I choose not to answer this letter, what exactly are your instructions?”

“Miss Hastings has tasked me with following you and clearing my throat every thirty seconds to remind you to respond, sir.” He kept his face devoid of emotion.

Frederick hated when servants acted so docile. In a situation as ridiculous as this, a man ought to be allowed some level of amusement. Determined to make the man smile, Frederick stood up, “Well, if you are tasked to follow me, we might as well have a little fun. Let’s go down to the kitchens.”

Ron cleared his throat, but nodded in deference before following close on Frederick’s heels. Frederick was in no rush. He stopped to admire every painting in the corridor as if he hadn’t grown up seeing them. He counted fifteen times the man cleared his throat. During that time, Frederick allowed his mind to think on Miriam’s invitation: an invitation to his own house, with unknown guests already invited. What is she up to? A small voice in the back of his mind offered an idea as to what it might be, but he dismissed it. She wouldn’t be so bold, would she? Well, he wasn’t ready to give in to her whims so easily. He shook his head and turned to face a throat-clearing Ron. “If I’m ever going to stay ahead of my sister in the future, I’m going to need your help, Ron. I think we need a secret handshake, a way to communicate that something is off and that she is likely to cause trouble . . . or that she is in trouble, for that matter.”

The man widened his eyes, but he only nodded. “As you wish, sir.”

“Follow my lead, but feel free to make suggestions if you have any.” Frederick waited for acknowledgement to cross his footman’s face. He was determined to get Ron to crack that rock facade. “Let us begin. Two claps, spin around, itch your belly. Ready . . . go.” Ron mirrored Frederick with astounding accuracy, including his pursed lips when he itched his abdomen. But there was no smile yet. “Good, I like it so far. Now, we need to add something unexpected.”

Ron cleared his throat, not having forgotten his duty despite Frederick’s antics.

It was better than nothing. The handshake was already quite ridiculous, but Ron still rocked side to side as stoic as ever . . . it was time to turn his own ammunition against him. “That’s it! I love it, Ron. We’ll clear our throats, followed by a tug on the ear.” The footman rolled his eyes and Frederick smiled. Now they were getting somewhere; he’d take any sign of flagging. “From the top, shall we?” The two men clapped twice, spun around, itched their stomachs, cleared their throats, and tugged an ear in the otherwise unoccupied corridor. A small smile flitted across Ron’s face. Success!

“Thank you, Ron. If you ever have information that you find I need to know in secret and quickly, please perform our handshake. If subtlety is an issue, just shorten it to a throat clearing and a tug on your ear.”

Ron cleared his throat again, “Yes, sir.”

Frederick laughed at his little charade. “Tell that sister of mine to meet me in the library, please.”

“Of course, sir.” Ron left with a bow.

As Frederick closed the door to the library, he ran a hand through his hair. Miriam. What would he do with her? She pushed open the other side of the door as he was closing it. “I haven’t had time yet to come up with a punishment for you, Miriam,” he said. “Come back in an hour.”

She pushed harder and he suddenly gave way, catching her by the arm as she tumbled into the room. Guilt was written across her face as clearly as the sun that hung outside the window of the library. “Frederick, please? Please say we can host a house party.”

He pulled her up to stand properly and turned her to face him. Miriam began wringing her hands as if she were pulling apart a stubborn tangle of knots from her embroidery. She looked up into his face with vulnerable eyes.

“Miriam, you know I would be happy to allow you to host a house party under typical circumstances. After our conversation yesterday, I have my doubts that this would qualify as typical. But before we go any further, I must know who has already accepted your invitation.” He lifted his eyebrows, hoping beyond hope that he was wrong.

She looked down at his cravat. It wasn’t a good omen that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Lady Gardner and her daughter, Lady Rose, have accepted an invitation. And I may have told them that His Grace would be in attendance.” She bit her bottom lip and cast her eyes to the floor.

Frederick’s jaw tightened. “Why did you have to drag Samuel into this whole charade? He would have been much happier remaining at home.” Frederick couldn’t very well retract the invitation now as it was already accepted, however much he might wish it. Frederick ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Miriam was determined, and perhaps giving her what she wanted was the medicine she so desperately needed to come to her senses about this whole Rose business. “But if he accepts your invitation, I will make it official. In fact, perhaps I’ll invite him over tomorrow morning so you can present your case.”

“Truly?” Miriam’s eyes shone with tears and trepidation. At least she had the good sense to feel at least a little ashamed of her behavior.

“Truly. But I don’t know how Samuel will react to the invitation. You must be clear that Lady Gardner and her daughter will be in attendance. And I don’t believe that will work in your favor.”

She sobered at that. “Very well. Presenting the idea myself is the least I can do, after all. I’m sorry I went behind your back, Frederick. Can you forgive me?”

Forgiveness was easy for Frederick; it always had been. Well, except in one case. But it had been two years since that morning . . . He shook the unpleasant thoughts of what he had labeled the betrayal from his head. “I will forgive you, Miriam. But you must promise me not to turn out as cold hearted as the two women you have invited to stay with us. I believe you can learn quite a lot in the time you spend with them, I just don’t want you to adopt their personalities. That would be quite tragic.”

She nodded her head vigorously and smiled up at him through the tears brimming in her eyes. She must have been in turmoil waiting for his verdict. Truly, despite his reservations about this scheme, he’d do anything to see her smile, even through tears. She buried her head in his chest, and he pulled her close and rubbed her back. “Now, no tears. You’d best go prepare an argument for the duke in the morning.”

Miriam placed a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Frederick.” She rushed from the room.