Page 6 of The Perfect Rose

Much to Frederick’s surprise, Miriam had to work very little to secure Samuel’s favor. He seemed more than willing to come to their house party, despite the Gardners’ presence. Samuel was a good friend indeed to willingly put himself in the same house as those women for two weeks, and Frederick wouldn’t forget his kindness anytime soon. There was no good way to pay back a duke, however. His undying friendship would have to suffice.

Miriam dispatched her remaining invitations, and he hardly saw her over the course of the next week as she spent her time planning and sending missives to their housekeeper in Hereford. Frederick sent only one missive. It included a very sincere apology to the staff for what they were about to endure, as well as his approval of using the necessary funds to make Miriam’s house party a success. He was more than thankful that the planning of said events was a task he wasn’t asked to assist with. If he had been asked, the house party would have been doomed for disaster before it ever began. It wasn’t as if Frederick never made plans. He did. But time after time, those plans seemed to unravel without the slightest bit of effort.

As Frederick and Miriam traveled in their carriage up the drive to their country estate, Miriam grabbed his arm. “Frederick, you promise me that you will not fall for Lady Rose’s charms? I would feel awful having planned this whole house party for my own reasons, only to have you fall victim to a woman with whom you could never be truly happy.”

“We’ve been over this; you have no need for concern.”

“But she is so beautiful and enchanting and fine. And it’s not as if she is Kendra.” She bit her bottom lip, and Frederick felt the full force of her meaning.

“No, she is not Kendra, and that is Lady Rose’s only virtue. My mind will not be changed, Miriam. I want you to be happy, and if this house party helps you attain that goal, then so be it.”

She finally let go of his arm. “You deserve to be happy too, you know. You cannot live your entire life in pursuit of the happiness of others.”

“If you don’t stop berating me, I’ll have you walk the rest of the way to the house.” And he just might, if she continued this line of conversation. Not that it would be much of a punishment; they were only a stone’s throw away from the front steps.

She laughed and he relaxed again. He would spend the day riding out among the tenants, pushing all thoughts of Kendra from his mind. She wasn’t worth his consideration.

Chapter Five

Rose sat across from her mother in her mother’s room at the Hastings’s estate in Hereford, staring at a simple floral arrangement of hothouse flowers. In Rose’s own room, she had been cheered by the wildflowers that adorned her writing table. In London, Rose had been surrounded by hothouse flowers for the past month at least. Wildflowers were perfect.

“Are you even listening?”

Rose blinked hard. She could feel the heat in her ears. “I’m sorry, Mother, I was distracted.”

“Obviously.” Her mother straightened the parchment in front of her with a regal air. “The guest list is more than we could have asked for, Rose. The duke is, of course, your first goal. But should you fail, which wouldn’t surprise me after your despicable show this season, there are still other gentlemen here whom I can accept as husbands for you.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“The viscount, Lord Hanby, is your second choice. Then there is Mr. Hastings as well as two neighbors, brothers by the name of Redford, but I will only ask one of them to propose to you should you have no other options. Is that clear?”

“Mother, you don’t even know the Redfords. They could be lunatics.”

“In that case, they would become rich lunatics. If you wish not to be prevailed upon to marry my choice of gentleman, you must secure your own husband, and preferably not embarrass our family.”

Rose stood. “I’ll do my best, Mother. I’m going to take a turn about the gardens before dinner.”

Her mother waved her away and put a hand to her head as if just speaking to Rose was painful.

Rose closed the door and sighed. This would be an awful two weeks, she was sure of it. But perhaps it would be slightly less stressful than the past three weeks of destitute suitors she’d just left in London. There was so much more space in the country. It reminded her of her family’s country estate, Gardner Manor. With miles of land stretching out before her, dotted with a home or a gardener’s shed, there was no one within range to correct her posture or make demands of her. She made her way out the back door to the gardens that had called to her from her window.

The first display in the garden were roses. Why was it that roses were kept so close to the house? She walked briskly past them and their taunting beauty. She didn’t need reminders of all the ways she didn’t live up to her name.

As she wove her way through the shrubbery, she heard a gurgling stream and picked her way through some bushes toward it. The clear water slipped over the polished rocks mere inches beneath the surface. The calming, soft, babbling noise muted her own thoughts. Rose closed her eyes and leaned against the trunk of a sturdy oak. Her new, shortened list of potential husbands would reside in the same household as she did for the duration of two full weeks. Thankfully, the list was obvious enough that she didn’t need to actually write the gentleman’s names down. It would be incredibly embarrassing if someone were to come upon something like that. The situation was quite pitiful for so many reasons, and she allowed herself the weakness of feeling every drop of unfulfilled hopes and dreams settle into her chest . . . she didn’t even know what those hopes and dreams were, only that an arranged marriage to a desperate man would not fall into that category.

A barking sound pulled her eyes open. Her breathing stopped as she frantically searched the surrounding area. The barking that came next was right behind her. She ran, but her foot caught on a root, and she met the ground with force. Her wrists ached, but she ignored the pain as she pulled herself into a bush. A large brown dog descended upon her. She screamed and flailed, but the animal merely pounced around the bush, preventing her from orienting herself in the least. She prayed that her screams would draw a gardener to her rescue.

She buried her head in her knees and covered it with her hands, making herself as small as she possibly could, blood rushing through her ears so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else. She was three years old again, and the neighbor’s dog was tugging on her leg, ripping its teeth into her ankle. Someone yelled in the distance. They sounded so far away. She trembled. Strong hands closed gently around her shoulders, and she heard a low chuckle.

She pried her eyes open a fraction to see brilliant green eyes peering into her face. She took a steadying breath, then another. Where had the attacking dog gone? She swept her gaze to each side, fully prepared to barricade herself behind the handsome gentleman that knelt before her—surely the dog wouldn’t get through him—but all appeared safe and quiet. She wrapped her hand around her ankle and closed her eyes again. She was intact.

“I’m sorry about Dragon; he’s usually better behaved. He must have been anxious to meet you, Lady Rose.” The gentleman extended his hand to help her up.

“Where is the dog?” She placed her trembling fingertips in his and a warmth shot up her arm. She sucked in a breath. He pulled her to stand. “Ouch!” Her head was yanked backward. She released his hand and gingerly reached to the back of her head. Sure enough, a tangled mess of hair and brambles greeted her fingers. “Drat.”

“The dog took himself off to play in the stream. Here, allow me.” The gentleman’s hands found the offending nest of knots and began gently working them from the bush.

Roses cheeks flared. She was an absolute idiot. How had she found herself stuck at the base of a bush in a panic? What must her rescuer think of her to see her in such a state? And why did her rescuer have to be so handsome, kind, and . . . close? This situation did not show her in the best light. The man’s breathing was shallow; she could tell by the movement of his chest a breath away from her face. She really shouldn’t be looking at him. But to look away would take a herculean effort. His waistcoat was cut just right. His golden hair glowed in the sunlight, and she’d never seen eyes so green, so alive. Although she didn’t know who he was, a casual glance told her he was a gentleman who knew his place in the world.