Page 65 of The Perfect Rose

“Yes.” She couldn’t look at him. Of course she wasn’t well. She wasn’t anything, she wasn’t allowed to feel, and it was better that way. If she couldn’t feel, she couldn’t be hurt anymore. And Rose was tired of the constant prunings she’d endured. This, this was the last moment of a rose’s life. It was the moment when you snip the head of the flower from the bush, evidence that she’d done her job and had to make way for better blooms to take her place. Next season, Rose would be forgotten, and she hoped with all her heart that being forgotten was not nearly as painful as being utterly inadequate.

Mr. Hastings took her hand and led her down the corridor until they reached the terrace. The feel of his hand in hers should have had some effect on her heart. But no racing pulse or energy bounced between them. She realized that until this moment, she’d never felt a neutral feeling toward this man. It was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. Shouldn’t she at least feel anger toward him? Or regret?

He pulled her down the stone steps and around a hedge. It was only then that she realized they were completely alone. She looked up and saw pain in those green eyes. “Where is my Rose?” He cupped her cheek.

She inhaled sharply and a tingling started in her cheek. She wasn’t his Rose, as nice as that sounded. And she had to let him know where she stood. “I am about to be betrothed to Lord Hanby. I . . . thank you, Mr. Hastings, for helping me garner a gentleman’s attention at this house party. I know it has gone against your core beliefs about women.”

He started rubbing her cheek with the pad of his thumb, up and down in slow rhythmic motions. “So help me Rose, if you love Lord Hanby, let me know it now.”

She could only shake her head a little side to side. And then his other hand came up and cradled her other cheek, and he pressed his lips against hers. Rose felt as if her entire world turned upside down. Where she had been hollow, not a moment before, she slowly filled to the brim with emotion and no way to express it other than to kiss Frederick Hastings. She melted into his chest. He removed his hands from her face and pulled her to him in an embrace so tender yet so reliable, she could hardly breathe.

Rose pulled away from him. She hardly knew what to think. She’d just told him that she was going to accept Lord Hanby’s offer. What was he thinking, kissing her? “What was that?”

Frederick laughed. “There she is. I was so worried I’d lost you to a place I cannot go.”

Rose took another step backward. Her breath coming in shallow and halting. “And where would that be?”

“Inside yourself. Into a dead garden littered with the twigs of pruned rose bushes and no one to pull you from it. I cannot watch you go there.”

Rose shuddered. That was exactly where she’d gone, if only for a moment. She’d gone to a place of no hope, no joy, no love.

Frederick took a tentative step closer to her. “I love you, Rose. Like I have never loved anyone before. Ever since that moment when I saved you from a dragon next to the river, I have thought of almost nothing but you.”

Was she dreaming? Had the stress of the night finally pushed her over the edge and she was living in that dream that she had spoken with the dowager about? Certainly not, dreams couldn’t touch you, or kiss you. She was really here, encircled in the arms of the man she loved, and he had finally said the words she’d ached to hear.

“It was a terrifying dragon.” She laughed a little, still not quite believing this was all real.

Frederick bent his head forward and kissed her neck just below her ear, as if he knew she needed reassurance. “Marry me, and I will make you laugh every day. I’ll make you want to pull your hair out because you will be so frustrated with my antics. And I will hold you in my arms every night and let you know how irreplaceable you are to the world and especially to me.”

Tears swam before her eyes. If only she had the freedom to accept his offer. But her mother had made her as undesirable as a toad. As much as she hated the truth, she knew her mother would not falter from her decision. “Frederick, my mother has stripped me of my dowry unless I marry Lord Hanby.”

“Hang your dowry. I don’t want it. I only want you, just as you are.” He took her by the shoulders. “Your worth cannot be measured by coins or beauty or even accomplishments, Rose.”

A tear flowed down her cheek. “You say that now. But . . .”

Chapter Forty-four

Frederick crushed Rose to him. He could not stand to hear her doubt herself or their future together for another moment. Her eyes closed and she melted into him. If he had to resort to kissing her senseless until she forgot all about her self-doubts, he would gladly take on that role. Especially when she tasted like freshly picked strawberries and warm summer nights. He ran his hands up into her hair and he felt her shiver. He pulled her closer and kissed her until he could feel her body relax and he knew that she felt safe within the circle of his arms.

He pulled his lips from hers slowly enough that he almost changed his mind. But some things needed saying. “I’m going to take advantage of a moment where I hope your mind is as addled as mine. Will you marry me, Rose?”

She opened her captivating brown eyes and smiled. “Yes, I will. But only if you allow me to love you in return. I’m not as naturally good as you, Frederick. I have been selfish and calculating, and all the things that you despise. I’ll need your guidance in what it means to love.”

“No, you don’t. Love isn’t perfect. And everyone loves in their own way. You trusted me, Rose. From the very beginning, you invited me into your empty spaces. You’ve been vulnerable and honest and angry and gentle and kind and loyal. You don’t do anything that you love half-heartedly.”

Rose swallowed and looked up at Frederick as if he had again saved her from a fire-breathing dragon. And she saw that dragon, he realized, in herself.

Frederick heard the door to the house open. “Where is she? Rose?” Her mother’s stern tone did not bode well.

He put the palm of his hand to his forehead. “I am the worst planner,” he whispered. “I was going to ask you to marry me in the rose garden, and the entire house party was going to see it so that your mother couldn’t dispute my claim. You should see the chair I had for you.”

She pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him and he kissed it. She rolled her eyes. “Frederick, my mother is going to be furious if she finds us here.”

He looked around them. “We have created quite a scandal. You are probably going to have to go break the viscount’s heart and let down your mother all in one swoop. Are you prepared for that?”

She lifted her chin. He loved to see her rise to a challenge. That fact alone sank the truth that Rose loved him deep into his heart. She grabbed his hand and pulled him from behind the hedge. “Yes, mother?”

Her mother had gone searching for her down in the rose garden. She turned and her eyes could have set fire to wet wood. “Get over here at once.”