“WELL, Chrysanthemum,” Joseph said as she crawled into bed that night, “your daughter is betrothed as planned. Are you happy?”
“Happy? I’m not sure who’s more miserable, Rose or Lily. Or me.”
Rand and Judith had left. Rose had taken supper in her room. Chrystabel had spent over an hour trying to soothe her, then another trying to assure Lily that her sister wasn’t lost to her forever.
Rain pattered on the window, spelling doom for her picnic, and a headache was brewing, relentlessly hammering her temples. She hated when everything didn’t go as she’d planned.
“Move closer,” Joseph said. “I’ll rub your shoulders.”
She did, snuggling into the feather mattress and sighing when his hands went to work. For a spell she just lay there, letting his fingers knead away her tension.
“Better?” he asked after a while.
“Getting there.” The pounding in her temples was fading to a mere annoyance. “I’m afraid Lily might change her mind.”
“No, she won’t.” He rubbed circles on the small of her back. “She’s in love.”
“You finally noticed?”
Running his thumbs down her spine, he snorted. “I haven’t the talent you seem to possess of discerning a person’s feelings by the look in his or her eyes. I know she’s in love because you told me.”
“Ahh.” The sound was half agreement, half bliss. “Lily is feeling very badly, though, that Rose is in pain. I’m afraid she’ll break the betrothal because her sister is unhappy. Choose her relationship with Rose over Rand.”
“Have you no sympathy for Rose?”
“Of course I do. She’s my daughter, and I ache for her, never mind that she and Rand were all wrong for each other. I understand why she feels betrayed. And yes, her actions in the summerhouse were shameful, but I don’t believe for a minute that she’s truly that calculating. I fancy she sensed Rand slipping away and acted unthinkingly, out of desperation. Alas, our Rose never has been one to think before words leave her mouth. But she doesn’t truly love Rand, and Lily does, which is why I’m worried that the betrothal…um…Joseph?” His hands had ceased their sublime services. “Might you continue just a little longer?”
He chuckled and resumed his task. “I was only scratching my nose. And try not to worry too much. I’m sure Rose will recover.”
“Of course she will. She’ll be after another gentleman within the week. Which is why I’m more concerned about Lily at the moment.” She paused, listening to the soft rain. “I hope this unlucky rain ceases by tomorrow.”
“Couldn’t you just move the picnic inside? Perhaps to the dining room, where civilized people usually eat?” His ribbing was as gentle as his fingers massaging her neck.
“Hmmph. Perhaps.” She would have swatted her husband had she been at all inclined to move. “But the dining room is a much more intimate space than the gardens, and I fear asking Rose to share a table with the happy couple just now…while everything is still quite raw between them…”
“But shall Rose—darling, your shoulders have tensed up again—shall Rose even deign to attend? The occasion cannot give her much pleasure.”
Chrystabel forced her muscles to relax. “She told me she’ll not hide herself away and have Rand think her pining for him. She means to attend.”
“Then perhaps we must disinvite her.”
Chrystabel was horrified. “What, and shall we dress her in rags and cast her out in the lane while we’re at it?”
“Your shoulders, Chrysanthemum. I wasn’t suggesting expelling Rose from a family picnic—that would be indefensible. But what if it were a private picnic instead?”
“A private picnic?” Now Chrystabel grew thoughtful. “You mean to let Lily and Rand dine alone? Unchaperoned?”
“You let Violet and Ford meet unchaperoned before they wed.”
“Yes, and look what nearly happened!” When Chrystabel had been stealthily arranging her eldest daughter’s marriage, in desperation she’d allowed Violet to pay a late-night visit to Lakefield House. Thanks be to heaven, her daughter’s reputation had ultimately come through unscathed, but it had been a close thing. “I’ll not repeat my mistakes by risking another daughter’s virtue. Though I’ve contrived to get them alone together for a few minutes here and there, the length of a whole meal is…however, perhaps there is a compromise…”
In silence she pondered a few more minutes while Joseph kneaded away. The last of her stiffness and discomfort had dissipated by the time she settled on the superiority of this new plan.
With renewed energy, she moved to kiss her dear husband. “I hope the rain continues tomorrow,” she said with a sly grin, reversing her earlier wish.
Joseph chuckled. “That’s my girl.”