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.It was hopeless, though.Instead, he found himself remembering something his mother had said to him at the first ball he had ever attended.She had persuaded him to ask a plump, painfully shy young girl to dance with him.“Don’t make her feel as though you are asking her out of politeness,” his mother had said.“Be kind.Make her feel as though you really want to dance with her.”Kindness had mattered to his mother.He had not been kind to Rose tonight.All his anger and resentment about this forced marriage withered in the face of that simple truth.He had been beastly.Cruel.He’d let her know he hadn’t wanted her.And the astonishing fact that he’d easily become hard, easily climaxed didn’t help in the least.In fact, it made it worse somehow.There was no undoing it, though.And having behaved like such a boor, he couldn’t think what the next day might bring.He wanted to jump on his horse and race back to London.The rest of his marriage stretched before him, decades of it.An inescapable prison.A life sentence.He felt wronged by it.By Rose.And now he had wronged her too.If only he could undo it.All of it.Chapter FiveThey arrived at Weartham late the following afternoon.The carriages rumbled up the long drive, coming to a dusty halt in front of the house.It was a substantial house built of mellow sandstone, and in the bright afternoon sunshine, it looked warmly welcoming.During the journey, Harriet had told Rose that, although Weartham was the smallest of the Earl’s estates, it had been Waite’s mother’s favourite.The earl used to take the whole family to Weartham for a month or two every summer.Harriet too.She had spoken fondly of those summers.And perhaps her memories of blackberry picking, village fetes and long walks by the sea had infected Rose.For as soon as she saw the house, it felt oddly familiar.And then she noticed the line of servants waiting outside.Were they standing there to welcome her? Or to be inspected by her? Rose was going to be mistress of this house, and she had absolutely no idea what was expected of her.Stiff with shyness, she watched from the carriage window as Waite gracefully dismounted his horse.He waved the hovering footmen away and opened Rose’s carriage door himself, offering his hand to her to help her descend.She grasped it with numb fingers and stepped down.He led her to the steps of the house where the servants waited and introduced her to the housekeeper, Mrs.Hart.She was a slim, neat woman in her middle years, and when she curtseyed to Rose, her expression was very composed and quite devoid of curiosity.As Rose made halting conversation with Mrs.Hart, Waite drew away from her, stepping back.She felt her sudden isolation keenly, though she said nothing to give any hint of her feelings.Instead, she followed Mrs.Hart down the line of neatly turned-out, expressionless servants, taking note of each name in turn.The maids bobbed their curtseys and the men bowed.They kept their eyes lowered for the most part as Rose repeated their names, but she felt their gazes upon her when she moved down the line, felt them looking at her surreptitiously.They must be wondering why their master had married such a plain, drab thing.At length, they entered the house, Rose and Harriet walking beside Mrs.Hart and Waite bringing up the rear with Mr.Thomson, the steward.The rest of the servants melted away.“I will take tea in the library with Mr.Thomson,” Waite told Mrs.Hart once they were inside.“The ladies might wish to take refreshments in the drawing room.”Rose realised that everyone was looking at her expectantly.“Ah—yes.Yes, that would be nice,” she stammered.“Harriet? Tea?”She hated the uncertainty and nervousness in her voice.Harriet smiled at her.“Tea would do very well,” she agreed calmly.Mrs.Hart inclined her head and glided smoothly away.Waite strolled off with Mr.Thomson, already engrossed in conversation.For a moment, Harriet watched the two men walk away; then she turned to Rose and smiled.“Let me show you the drawing room.”She led Rose down the corridor and into a restful, sun-bathed room furnished in pale cream and gold.Rose spotted a collection of miniatures arranged on the wall and wandered over to take a closer look.One miniature, of two small boys—one dark and one fair—caught her attention.“Gilbert and James,” Harriet confirmed behind her.Rose stared at the two children.The fair boy—James—was innocently beautiful.The darker—Gilbert—looked like a scamp.Rose stared at the charming little painting, wondering how such a warm, mischievous-looking boy had turned into her cold, stern husband.It was only when Mrs.Hart brought the tea tray that Rose wondered if she should invite the housekeeper to join them.Housekeepers sometimes took tea with the lady of the house, didn’t they? Was it expected that she would ask Mrs.Hart to do so now, on the first day? Or would that be a faux pas?She glanced at Harriet, hoping for a hint, but Harriet merely smiled at her and wandered over to the window [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]