Chapter Twenty-One

I reeled at Daisy’s voice. Could it be? I whipped around in my chair so fast it crashed to the ground as I stood. Daisy stood poised in the doorway. Her hair was in disarray, strands escaping a lumpy braid to form a blond halo around her face. Her cheeks were flushed with pride as she grinned broadly.

I launched myself at her, wrapping my arms around her slim shoulders and squeezing for all I was worth.

Daisy sputtered. “Rose. Thank you for the congratulations, but I can’t breathe.”

“Congratulations?” I recoiled. I balled my fists. “I am not congratulating you. You had me worried sick.”

Behind me, Lady Dunlop cleared her throat. “Perhaps you’d all care to read the rest of these out on the back terrace.”

A steady stream of guests, including Francine and Hartfell’s forms, slipped past the two of us as they left the room. Francine gave Daisy’s hand a squeeze as she passed. Mary sent her a glower. Rage beat at my breast, frantic to get out. I quaked with the force. How dare she trot back in here with a smile, without a care for the anguish she’d put us through.

When the last person departed, I glared at Lady Dunlop’s nephew until he left us alone. With a shake of my head, I spat, “How could you?”

Daisy’s mouth dropped open in affront. Tears filmed over her eyes. “What do you mean? I thought you would be happy for me.”

“Happy that you decided on a whim to marry some man you’ve just met? With not a whit of guidance from anyone other than your fickle senses? You left on a stormy night when you might have been killed.”

“It wasn’t so—”

“I’m not done.” I snapped my fingers in front of her face.

She quivered, her mouth pursing to a thin line. The color drained from her cheeks.

“You left me no note, no notion that you intended to return, and no means of contacting you, wherever you’d gone.”

“I went to Gretna Green with—”

“I know that now!”

I turned my back. My hands shook. I fisted them. The rustle of sound indicated Daisy stepped closer. I whirled on her.

“I didn’t have a single scrap of evidence to support that you still lived. What would you have had me tell Mama? You’re supposed to be old enough to make your own decisions, but now I see that you are nothing more than a child.”

Daisy flinched. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Her nose and eyes reddened. “But Rose, I’m in love…surely you, of all people, can understand that?”

“You’re sixteen years old, Daisy.” I slashed my hand through the air. “At sixteen, I fancied myself in love with Violet’s fiancé. It isn’t real.”

“Of course it is.” Daisy stamped her foot. “Just because you’re as fickle as the wind doesn’t mean I can’t form a meaningful and lasting connection. I’m married now, Rose. You’d best check your jealousy and come to terms with it.”

I gritted my teeth. “I am not jealous of you. I care for you. I worried for you. Apparently, I shouldn’t have bothered.”

Without another word, I stormed from the room.

“Won’t you talk to your sister?” Emily pleaded as she tied off the end of my braid with a pink ribbon.

“No.” My voice was just as hard and cutting as it had been when I’d confronted Daisy last night. She deserved every last reprimand. How could she have run off and done this to us? Done this to herself?

I remembered falling in love at sixteen. With the man Violet later married. He never returned my feelings, but I’d fancied myself in love with him anyway. It had broken my heart to see Violet married to him. But, with time, my heart had healed, and I’d realized that it had all been in my head.

What would happen to Daisy when she realized the very same thing? She wouldn’t have anyone’s shoulder to cry on, then. She was married—and no doubt had consummated the marriage as well. Why else would a gentleman prod her to get married right at that moment without a care for propriety or reading the banns, or even asking her father’s permission? Now that she’d made her rash decision, she had to live with it for the rest of her life.

Mama would blame me, for good reason. Hell and damnation, I was supposed to get married by the end of this house party, not her!

Emily straightened the bodice of my traveling dress. “You brooded all night. Shouldn’t you both apologize and put this behind you? You can’t change it.”

No, I couldn’t. But she didn’t deserve congratulations for a silly, foolish decision that had nothing to do with reality. I lifted my chin. “I’ll apologize to her once she apologizes to me.”

Emily sighed. She knew that would be a long time coming, if ever.

I met Francine and Mary outside the door, both dressed for travel. Mary, I imagined, must have packed her own valise because she had it in hand despite the young footman who tried to take it from her.

“Am I not capable of carrying my own things?”

“Certainly, you are, miss, as you’ve shown. But won’t it be easier if I just take that from you…”

“No.” Mary turned her back to him, holding the handle of the valise with both hands as she propped it in front of her. Her carrying case was half the size of the one I had brought with me, but she turned red in the face with the exertion of hefting it. Even so, her gaze held an edge of determination that warned that no one should cross her.

I decided not to butt into the conversation.

Francine laid her hand on the footman’s sleeve and said gently, “If you’ll check with my maid, Pauline, I’m sure my trunk is ready to be carried downstairs.”

The harried footman glanced at Mary one last time, then gave up on her and went to fetch Francine’s case instead.

The three of us descended to the bottom of the steps, Mary with some difficulty. I pretended not to notice. She’d get offended if I pointed it out, or worse, tried to help. By the time we reached the bottom, she set down the case for a moment.

“We should have some breakfast before leaving,” Francine pointed out. “Lunch is likely a long time away.”

On that point, she was right. We ate quickly, and I wrapped a few sausage-and-egg pasties in my handkerchief. I passed them over to Emily as she descended the stairs behind the footman, who now hefted my carrying case. He left through the door.

“Hey,” Mary said sharply. “Where is my valise?”

Francine laid a restraining hand on her sleeve. “It’s been loaded into the carriage. Don’t fuss over it. They’re only doing their jobs.”

Mary scowled, but she didn’t speak another word on the subject.

I stepped into the bright sunshine, a good omen for the long ride ahead of us. Two carriages waited in front of the house. I strode toward the coach with the Annesley family crest on it. Francine’s father had lent it to us for the party.

Daisy stood with her back turned to me, her arm on her new husband’s sleeve as he helped her into the carriage. Spotting my arrival, she paused on the step and sniffed. “There isn’t room in this carriage for you,” she said.

I glared at her. “Of course there is. I came up in it, after all.”

“That was before Arthur came down with us. He’ll be taking your spot.”

I spluttered. “And how am I to get home?”

Francine laid her hand on my sleeve. I clutched her. Surely, she wouldn’t let Daisy turn me out of the carriage.

Before she said a word, Lady Dunlop cleared her throat. “I have a solution,” she said. “Another guest needs to borrow my carriage to return to London. There is room for you and your maid.”

She swept her arm to indicate the other, smaller carriage.

As coaches went, it was quaint. A squat little contraption, taller than it was long, with seemingly just enough room for two—or, with Emily, three—people. I glared at Daisy, who cast me a smug look.

“Very well,” I said graciously, even though that gentle emotion was the furthest from my mind. “Thank you for your generosity.”

I turned my back on Daisy and her new husband. Truthfully, I preferred a separate carriage from them, anyway.

“We’ll stay at the same inns, like we did last time,” Francine said, trying to placate me. I wondered why she bothered. She’d have her nose in a book throughout the travel home and likely wouldn’t even notice the difference.

I nodded anyway. “Thank you,” I said. “A bit of time alone sounds like just the thing at the moment.”

With one last glare in Daisy’s direction as she slipped into the bigger carriage, I strode toward the squat coach. Lady Dunlop’s favorite manservant, the older man who accompanied her everywhere, leaped forward to hand me into the contraption.

My eyes adjusted slowly to the dimmer interior of the carriage. I groped along to my right, sidestepping the occupant’s legs, as I found my seat. Behind me, Emily giggled as the manservant treated her with the same thoughtful assistance into the carriage as he had me. I scooted along to the very edge of the coach seat—not far, at all—and Emily squeezed into the spot beside me.

As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim interior, I found myself staring into Warren’s face.