Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

Rose sat at the vanity table of her bedroom, a sense of anticipation mixed with trepidation inside her. Her aunt had presented her with several documents, refusing to reveal where she had gotten them, that proved beyond any doubt that Michael Skylark had indeed existed. That they were forgeries her aunt never denied, but they appeared to be as real as any she had ever seen.

The fact she would be forced to reveal the truth to no one, not even Holden, was clear. It was not that she did not trust him, but omitting the information was to protect her mother and aunt, not herself.

“You look beautiful,” her mother said, breaking Rose from her thoughts. “Truly there is no woman like you on this earth.”

Rose stood and walked to the standing mirror. Blue had always been a color that suited her well, and at the risk of being vain, she had to admit she did like how she looked.

She smiled at her mother’s reflection. The woman wore green, her favorite color, for it complemented her red hair. She looked haggard, but after what had transpired this past week, Rose could not blame her.

“I am hopeful that all will go well today,” Rose said. “Do you believe Lord Bradshaw will accept the documents Aunt Eleanor gathered?”

“I do,” her mother replied. “Then the reading of the banns will begin this Sunday, and soon you will be married, ready to spend your life in love.”

Rose turned to her mother. “I am proud of you,” she said. “I wanted you to know this.”

“Proud?” her mother said, shock filling her features. “I do not deserve such praise.”

“But you do,” Rose insisted. “You raised Graham and me alone. It was your strength from which we learned and that which we draw on in times such as these. There was every reason for you to fail, yet you stand here today as a testament to that strength.”

Her mother’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Your words have healed me in ways you will never know.” She took Rose’s hands in hers. “Now, let us go to the drawing room. The Bradshaws will be here any moment.”

Rose followed her mother to the door and then stopped. “I will be right there. I forgot something.”

“Do not be late,” her mother said with a wink before leaving Rose alone.

Hurrying back to the vanity table, Rose opened a small jewelry box and removed the two documents she had hidden behind the lining. One was the letter her mother had written to Charles years earlier and the other was a writing that Rose had penned the night before.

She unfolded the writing and read it silently to herself.

 

A woman must keep many secrets that she prays she will never be forced to reveal. My mother kept one such secret for nearly twenty years, and I fear that the burden has affected her health. The burden she was forced to carry she kept from me, protected me: that Lord Charles Lambert, the former Lord of Scarlett Hall, is my father.

 

Although I was born out of deception, I was raised with love, a love that I now understand and carry in my heart.

 

I do not despise Lord Lambert, even though he tricked my mother in order to lie with her. Rather, I pity the man who felt the need to deceive others in order to get what he wanted. The truth is, he never found happiness.

 

I, on the other hand, did find happiness with Holden, and we share a love that can never be broken. I may carry with me this secret concerning my origin, but it will remain buried at Scarlett Hall forever.

 

With a sigh, she refolded the paper and carried both to the other side of the bed. Dropping to her knees, she pulled up the old floorboard and placed the parchments with the others already resting there—letters and writings belonging to Juliet Lambert, a woman she did not know but hoped to one day meet. Juliet had also shared not only her desires, but her secrets, as well. And like those belonging to Rose, they would remain sealed and hidden forever.

Replacing the floorboard, Rose stood and smiled. Her past was now behind her, buried away in a sense, and her future was only moments away.

***

Rose attempted to calm her pounding heart as Lord Bradshaw and Holden entered the drawing room. She wished she could run to him, to fall into his embrace, but she stood with her back straight and her stance proud.

Her mother gave the baron a curtsy. “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” she said. “I understand a man of your standing values his time.”

Lord Bradshaw scowled. “Then do not waste it,” he said. “I am only here at my son’s request.”

“I understand your concerns,” her mother said. The woman had always been strong in the face of adversity, and today was no different. “As I stated in my letter, I have gathered documentation that will prove that my husband, Rose’s father, did indeed exist as I stated before. Included are records of my marriage to her father as well as a record of her birth. You will see that her father is listed as Michael Skylark.” She pointed to a place on one of the papers before handing them all to him. “I hope these will provide the answers for which you were searching.”

The baron snorted and turned his attention to the documents. Holden stood looking over his shoulder as the man rifled through the pages. “I see no record of his military service,” he said. “Have you no documentation of it?”

Her mother raised her brows in surprise. “Unfortunately, no,” she replied. “I only have what you see in front of you. I thought you were concerned whether or not my daughter was born out of wedlock.”

Lord Bradshaw scowled. “What is most interesting to me was the man’s occupation, and that is what is missing.”

“Father,” Holden said, speaking for the first time since their arrival, “what will appease you? If you were to see the man’s uniform, would you be satisfied? Perhaps his body? This is Rose’s father we speak of, and the man is dead. There is no reason to make it more painful.”

Lord Bradshaw glared at his son. “Do not embarrass me again!” he hissed. Then he turned to Rose’s mother. “I do not know if this man was a member of the landed gentry as you claim or if he was a simple cobbler. If your daughter is to marry my son, it does make a difference.”

Her mother raised herself to her full stature, which was considerably less than that of Lord Bradshaw. “With all due respect, I am a baroness. A dowager baroness, to be sure, but a baroness all the same. Do you believe a woman with my title would turn her eyes to a simple cobbler?”

This made Lord Bradshaw hesitate. He seemed to consider her words for a moment and then he let out a sigh. “I cannot imagine such a thing. However, just your word cannot satisfy me. As a lady of the aristocracy, you should understand my position. My son is not only the heir to my fortune, but also my family name and title. I cannot, and will not, risk all that only to learn after they are married that she is not worthy of my son.”

Rose blinked back tears. The documents should have been enough to convince the baron and earn his blessing. If they had known he had such a great concern for the man’s occupation, her aunt would have seen documentation created for that.

She turned pleading eyes to Holden, who looked at her with as much urgency. “There is no reason we cannot be married,” he said to his father. “What else must they prove?”

“Nothing,” his father replied. “For I do not believe this story concerning the man’s military service.” He turned to Rose. “Miss Skylark, I am sorry, but I cannot allow this engagement to continue.” He spun on his heel and left the room.

Rose covered her mouth to hold back a sob. The room lurched around her, and she thought she would faint. “Oh, Holden,” she whispered. “This cannot be.”

Holden did not console her as she would have expected. “I am sorry,” he replied. Then his father’s booming voice called him to the hallway. “I did not want this,” he added before also leaving the room.

Her mother pulled Rose into her arms, and Rose wept tears of loss. “My life is ruined,” she cried. “I have lost the only man I have ever loved.”