Page 52 of Duke of Rath

He cleared his throat and watched Anne give the basket to her mother.

“We just go in a circle,” said Mrs. Rose to Dorian. “And each of us tells what we experienced. Something good that happened. What we learned. And if we felt anything bad, we say it quickly and put that bad emotion in here and forget it. Pretend it doesn’t exist. We lock it up, and it never bothers us again.”

She gave him a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. Dorian wondered how much of what she said was true.

His life was nothing but fury, frustration, regret, guilt, and doubt.

All he wanted was numbness.

Perhaps this basket would make him numb. Would this work? he wondered.

Again, he understood more of how Patience grew up—her joyfulness, which sometimes felt forced, and her attempts at putting on a brave and happy face.

He wondered if she had done this ritual by herself every night she’d been here. And if she was so unhappy here and had locked up all those unhappy thoughts every day in a mental basket, what would she have left?

Nothing.

“Today, I learned so much about my new son-in-law,” said Mrs. Rose. “What a great host he is, that he is treating my daughter very well, and what a stately home he has. I was tired during the journey, so I’ll put that here.” She made a gesture like she had gathered the words in her hand and put them into the basket, closed the lid, and locked it with an invisible key. “I was also sad to talk about John, and very sad when the duke had such a strong reaction, so I’ll put both of those experiences here.” She mimed locking it again and gave a large, relieved smile. “That is it! Now it was a wonderful, perfect day.”

The rest of the family smiled around her approvingly, and she passed the basket to her eldest daughter, who sat to her right.

Mrs. Rose did seem happier and more at ease afterward, and Dorian wondered if this odd method truly worked. Could he lock up his wrathful demon and the murder of John Rose and just live happily ever after?

Most of the girls said they were tired and surprised at Dorian’s reaction but forgave him and understood he was going through some hard times and was probably tired, as well. Some of them said they felt envious of Patience, which made her blush deeply, and she nodded to them. Others had conflicts with each other and asked for forgiveness.

Dorian’s mind reeled. How could a family be this way, so open and so vulnerable with each other? Sharing emotions?

His father’s reaction would have been to lock each and every one of them in the glasshouse until they learned to be tough. Dorian had been too emotional, his papa had said. Emotions were for milksops, not for a duke worthy of his line. He couldn’t show any softness in the House of Lords, or when pursuing his interests—plotting to take over better lands and gain more influence with the king or queen or making alliances with other dukes.

It was for his own good, his father had said. One day, Dorian would thank him.

His father had been wrong about that.

One after another, the Roses locked their fears, exhaustion, shame, envy, and anger into the basket—and every one of them looked fresher, their backs straighter and their smiles broader.

When the time came for Patience to speak, she looked at him. “I was so happy to see my family today,” she said, and he knew she was talking to him directly.

A genuine smile crossed her face, and he melted all over again.

“I realize today, my perspective has changed. For the first two weeks here, I wished I could leave. I didn’t like it here.” She put her hand around her mouth as though gathering those words and then put them into the basket. “But today, it’s been over three weeks that I’ve been married to this man. I know that even if I’m still a little afraid in Rath Hall, I’m afraid less and less, and I wouldn’t choose to leave even if I could.”

She had wanted to leave? His heart lurched in desperation; he hadn’t realized how much he hated that idea. But she didn’t want to leave anymore. Relief washed over him.

Combined sighs and awws came from around the room.

Patience handed the basket to Dorian, and he took it with a feeling of dread.

“Er,” he said, staring at it. “I don’t think I’d be fit to⁠—”

“Nonsense, Your Grace,” said Mrs. Rose, smiling kindly. “Just say one thing you’d like to lock up and one thing you’re grateful for. I know you high aristocrats do not like to talk about your emotions, but we’re family now. It’ll make you feel better, you’ll see!”

He cleared his throat. Good God! What was he going to say? He needed to lock his whole self up in that basket. He didn’t have any positive emotions.

Not until he saw Patience hugging her family, whispered a voice in his head.

“I really don’t know—” He stood up to hand the basket to Mrs. Rose, but she shook her head very insistently.

“Just try,” she said. “We’re here to listen.”