Page 7 of The Perfect Rose

She forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. He smelled good, like leather and rosemary: it was a friendly, comfortable smell. “Thank you, sir.”

He chuckled, a rich noise that seemed to begin deep within the walls of his vibrating chest. “You are very welcome. You know, for how frightened you are of Dragon, you have the same color of hair.”

His words roused her out of the spell. Rose snapped her eyes open, piercing him with the most scathing look she could muster. “I do not appreciate being compared to a dog.” She pulled her head forward to extricate herself from the embarrassing situation, but her scalp was still fastened to a stubborn branch as if it had been sewn there. She grimaced and her hands flew to her hair pulling the stringy mess in all directions in an attempt to hurry the process. How long could this take? And how had she ever thought this man handsome? True, his eyes were a bright green, almost like moss on the edge of the stream, and his golden hair was surely a defining feature, but he had laughed at her distress and compared her to a dog. There were more important things than outward appearances. As good as he looked and smelled, he was not going to weasel his way into her good graces. “Have we been introduced, sir?”

He cleared his throat and smiled at her, taking his eyes off her mess of hair for just a moment. “We have, though it has been some months. I am Frederick Hastings, my lady.”

How had she not known? His hair matched his sister’s perfectly. And how had she ever forgotten a face like his? Her heart skipped. He had no right to smile like that and make her feel . . . never mind how he made her feel. “Of course it is,” she mumbled under her breath. Her host, and likely a fortune hunter. She pasted as neutral a look on her face as she could manage. “Mr. Hastings. I am sorry to have met you in such a state. It is quite unlike me, I assure you. I was just so startled by your dog; I thought it was attacking me.” There. That sounded polite enough not to get her into trouble. The beast appeared and paced behind Mr. Hastings, coming up to the man’s mid-thigh, wagging his tail and looking about as lethal as an infant. A very large infant. She shuddered. The color in her cheeks rose again, and she tried to will it down.

“I am very well aware that to find you in such distress is not characteristic of you, Lady Rose. But I find that I enjoy meeting with you this way; you are far less frightening cowering in a bush than you are parading in a ballroom.” He laughed as if what he said was funny.

“This is not funny.” Nothing about this was humorous in the least. She had been scared, and her pride had been wounded. And he had called her frightening. She was quite sure she could do without him. Except that this was his house party. She couldn’t make out his character. One moment, he’d been laughing at her, and the next, offering to help her out of her embarrassing position. Was the kindness an act to get at her dowry? It didn’t feel like it.

Mr. Hastings sobered, but his eyes still held a smile. He continued working at the knot on the back of her head. “Of course it is not funny; it is just that laughter is much more pleasant than frustration or embarrassment. I knew that you were in no danger. I’m certain that is not what you felt at the time, so I can understand why you are upset. But next time, you might try laughing at yourself. It’s quite cathartic.”

He placed his hands over her own and she stilled. His touch was gentle yet commanding as he brought her own hands down to rest in her lap. She couldn’t recall being handled with such care since she was a child. He released her far too quickly and she was left feeling like someone had just taken a sweet from her. The raw annoyance from a moment ago had fled, and she pursed her lips together, frantically trying to recall what they had been talking about.

“All free.” He helped her to her feet, his gentle hands leaving a small fire roaring under her skin. When he stepped back a few paces, his recent words slammed into the space of his absence. He’d just insulted her, twice!

Rose knew she looked as disheveled as an orphan on the streets, but she no longer cared what he thought of her. He’d said she was frightening to him, and she planned on staying that way. With as much grace as she could muster, Rose stood tall, spun on her heel and strode toward the house. She heard his jogging footsteps behind her moments later.

Rose stopped, dipped a stiff curtsey, and held her hands behind her back. “Thank you, Mr. Hastings, for the invitation to your house party. I do think it best if I prepare myself for dinner.” She returned to her hasty escape from this horrid man.

“It is my sister you ought to thank. The invitation was from her.”

Rose quickened her pace, leaving him to walk behind her.

“If there is anything I can do to make your stay more pleasant, please let me know,” he hollered as she strode through the rose garden and slammed the door to the back of the house behind her. He had some nerve to instruct her on how to deal with her emotions. As if she hadn’t been trained her entire life to hide them. It was that dog that ruined it. She blew out a frustrated breath. Her maid would need as much time as possible to fix her coiffure, and Rose needed that time to cool her nerves before she saw the infuriating Mr. Hastings again.

Chapter Six

The foyer was filled with the guests from the house party. Frederick looked out amongst his friends and acquaintances with a smile. He loved being at his country estate, and the company Miriam had invited to this house party put him at ease, save two whom were not currently present. Conversations bubbled around him as he greeted his guests for their first dinner together. Miriam looked beautiful, as always, speaking with Samuel and his mother, Lady Gilfordshire, the Dowager Duchess of Gilfordshire. She had become the closest person to a mother Frederick had since his own mother died. The dowager leaned into the conversation noticeably. Her hearing had been getting worse the past couple years. A cold sensation crept up his back as the conversation died around him. He looked about and then clenched his teeth as Lady Gardner and Lady Rose entered the foyer. Frederick looked to Samuel. The duke wasn’t cowed by anyone; he even smiled at these ladies that brought all lively chatter to an abrupt stop. In fact, he didn’t look half as annoyed as Frederick felt.

Dinner was announced, and Frederick was saved any further awkward moments waiting to be ushered into the dining room. Samuel and his mother sat closest to the head of the table, being the highest ranking of the guests, followed by Lady Rose and her mother. Lady Gardner eyed the duke with the intensity of a hunter about to shoot. Poor fellow. He was, no doubt, the hopeful husband for Lady Rose. Frederick held his breath, stealing a glance toward the young lady to ascertain her interest in his friend, but she sat demurely eating her vegetables, eyes downcast, the picture of etiquette and poise. His mind eased slightly; if Samuel somehow managed to get roped into a marriage with Lady Rose, she would be able to hold the title of a duchess very well indeed.

Lady Rose glanced up to see him staring at her, and he cocked an eyebrow in her direction. It was too late to look away, but he hated that she’d seen him gazing at her. It wasn’t as if she needed more stuffing added to her puffed up head. She smiled in return, but it was that practiced, false type of smile that looked like it hurt. What would it take to wipe that smug smile from her face? She sat only a few seats away from him, easily close enough to talk to without breaching the rules of etiquette. “I do hope you will feel free to explore about the estate, Lady Rose. Certainly flower gardens must be something you take much comfort in.” There, he couldn’t be faulted for that, could he? Only she would know how he tested her, and maybe he could make her laugh at herself. That would be an accomplishment indeed.

Her eyes tightened. “Thank you, Mr. Hastings.” She fluttered her eyelashes, and it took everything Frederick had in him not to laugh at her again. “Do tell me, is there anything I should be aware of before I go exploring?” She raised her eyebrows in question . . . or was that in challenge?

Frederick tapped his finger on the table a few times. “Yes, now that you mention it. I have a very large dog; Dragon is his name. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, but he can get very excited if he comes upon you.” He knew he would be in trouble for this, but he couldn’t help himself: “In fact, you two will likely become fast friends. Dragon has precisely the same coloring of hair as you do, Lady Rose.”

Lady Gardner coughed on her drink, and Lady Rose’s eyes lit with fire. She nodded her head. “It is wonderful to know that your Dragon is harmless.” She scalded him with her eyes for another moment before she turned to the gentleman sitting beside her. Well, it seemed laughing at herself was out of the question. Pity.

Lord Hanby looked as if he was enjoying Lady Rose’s attention; the man actually smiled . . . a little. That was more emotion than Frederick had ever seen from him.

Frederick flitted his gaze around the large table. Miriam, seated at the other end of the table, clutched her glass, her eyes on the back of Lady Rose’s elaborate coiffure. Miss Marjorie Haybury, seated across from Lady Rose, was also glaring daggers at her. It seemed Miriam’s feelings about Lady Rose’s superiority during the season were shared by at least a few women at the house party.

Frederick smirked. This could turn out to be entertaining after all. Miss Haybury was an heiress in her own right, and she came with fifteen thousand pounds. There was no title attached to the family, of course, but Frederick could read that she wanted a title as easily as he could read the headlines of the Times. The Redfords, seated at the foot of the table, had spent much of their childhood roaming about the estate. Frederick was glad they could make the necessary flood repairs in order to be in attendance. Quentin Redford was a few years senior to Frederick, and Owen was Frederick’s own age. Miss Jane Coolidge, also a neighbor, and a couple years younger than Frederick, was present with her father. The Coolidge family was new to the neighborhood. To round off the group, there was Miss Eliza Trenton and her father. Miss Trenton was a particular friend to Miriam, and Frederick assumed the two would be quite inseparable.

After the men had taken their port, Frederick led the way to the drawing room for some visiting. Lady Rose wasted no time losing her mother and coming to stand beside him.

Her whisper was calm but fierce. “Sir, if you insist on comparing me to your dog, I will give you reason to compare us in name as well. Please do not make me do it.” Then she smiled as if they had shared some fun secret and walked straight past him to the window seat.

Frederick could not believe what he’d just heard. Did she not know that she was a dragon already? And if she didn’t, what would her intentional version of a dragon be like? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know . . . but he was curious.

As he watched, nearly every gentleman flocked around the dragon, begging for attention. It was quite pathetic actually. He glanced at Miriam. She was thunderous, but she had asked for this, and she’d known what would happen. How long would it take, he wondered, for the rest of the men in this house party to realize they didn’t actually want to be married to a dragon, and turn their attentions elsewhere? He would prefer that Miriam enjoyed at least some aspect of this house party. For her to do so, some unlucky man would have to take Lady Rose off the marriage mart. He wondered who the poor chap might be.

Chapter Seven