Page 26 of Beauty and the Rake
“Indeed. Let me tell the butler. He can break the news to my cook, and he can tell her Roxanne might wish a tray.”
Graham grunted and threw back the contents of his drink. Now he needed to figure out what was going on with regards to what transpired between them in the carriage earlier.
*
Roxanne didn’t waitfor her maid. Instead, she kicked off her shoes, walked straight over to her bed, grabbed a blanket she kept at the foot of the bed for cold winter nights, and climbed up. She lay down on her side and closed her eyes. The first thing that crossed her mind was that her son was in a better place. That he didn’t have to suffer the horrors in that asylum any longer was like a dream come true. Though her late husband tried numerous times to tell her the place was one of the best, and if anyone could help Thomas it was them, she knew better. She’d researched and read anything she could about facilities like this one, and what she’d found out scared her to death. There was little hope for someone like her son. She knew he’d never get better, but Casper thought by letting her believe he’d one day be cured, he was doing her a favor keeping the atrocities from her. Indeed. Just like she wasn’t to speak of Thomas in the house. It was forbidden. As far as Casper was concerned, the day Thomas left home, he no longer existed in his mind. His own son.
Blame, of course, was put directly on her. It was her fault he was born with such a malady. Horrors such as that were always the result of faults in the woman’s family blood or some such nonsense. He refused to believe it just happened. Everything happened for a reason, and he vowed to never forgive her for giving him such an inferior child.
She would probably never know the joy of having children and a family of her own. Such was her cross to bear. She would get through it with grace and dignity and move forward in her life. This was her time, and her brother had given her a way to start anew, at least for the immediate future.
Then the thought of Graham kissing her in his carriage brought all sorts of conflicting messages. From everything such as how dare he to how she longed for more.
This wasn’t fair. She was in control of her life now. She never had a man who appreciated her for who she was, and she doubted Graham was such a man. On the other hand, he and Arthur were childhood friends, and she couldn’t see her brother allowing Graham such liberties unless Arthur didn’t know. He wouldn’t have allowed her to travel from the seashore to London with only Graham if he did.
Finally, her eyelids grew heavy and she succumbed to much needed sleep, complete with reminders of how life would have been, should Thomas have lived. Her plans had included taking him out of the madness and taking him home, even just overnight. She had thought getting him away from all the mayhem and chaos he might have an opportunity to see what outside those walls was really like. Would he even remember her?
For three years she’d stayed away, hoping when she returned the nightmares would be a thing of the past. But that wasn’t to be. The torment started almost immediately after her return. It still raised its ugly head by making sure she couldn’t even visit friends. But this mayhem wasn’t going to win. No indeed. She was.
Chapter Nine
Two days later,the funeral for Thomas was held. As per Roxanne’s request, no one outside of herself, Arthur, and Graham attended. The vicar had met with her the day before and was quite understanding of her wishes after they talked over tea. He had been at the local church for as long as Roxanne could remember. He was a kind man who treated all his parishioners as equals. To him, it mattered not what a person’s social status was, or how much money they did or didn’t have. Everyone was equal in the eyes of God.
At Roxanne and Arthur’s request, the vicar and his wife walked to the house with them where luncheon was waiting. Given the fact the vicar had been given no notice about presiding over the funeral and burial of Lady Roxanne’s son, it was the least they could do. That and a significant donation to the parish in their parents’ memory. Her mother had done what she could, participating in various projects the women kept going. She was very proud of whatever she did, especially for those less fortunate. She had tried to instill those qualities in her daughter, and Roxanne liked to think her mother had done herself proud and she would beam at her daughter and how strong she was.
Refusing to give into grief, Roxanne decided to enjoy the afternoon outdoors in the garden. The vicar left, and she had made it quite clear she was not to be disturbed. She took a novel she’d been trying to read for the past week but had not gained much ground in. Today might not be the day to try, but she hadto try. She couldn’t let this consume her; what others thought was of no consequence to her.
She walked to the center of the gardens where a fountain sat, water moving in a rhythm. She sat on one of the benches overlooking the fountain. Laying her book aside, Roxanne closed her eyes momentarily to listen to the soothing sound of the water. Finally, she opened her eyes and watched the water splash. This had also been her mother’s favorite place to come when she didn’t want to be disturbed.
But then she heard an all-too-familiar voice to one side. Graham. How did he seem to know exactly where she was at any given time? A recent development, and it could be annoying. If she didn’t watch herself, she’d be telling him just that.
“I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asked. It was hard for her to tell in this light, but she assumed he’d changed from what he’d been wearing earlier.
“Would it matter if it did?”
“Probably not since I come bearing gifts.”
“Really? To what do I owe the pleasure of a gift?”
“Nothing, no strings attached. I’ve seen the photographs you’ve taken, and you’re quite talented. I thought I’d take the liberty of helping you set up your own studio.”
Roxanne tried hard to keep her tongue in check, but lately with this man, she found it increasingly hard. Could it stem from what they shared in the carriage?
“Why? Why would you do something without consulting me first? I have my own money. I can afford to set my own studio up if that’s what I choose to do.”
He’d come closer to where she was sitting. His face was bordering on anger. She hoped she hadn’t pushed him too far.
“You are the most ungrateful woman I know. You weren’t raised to be, but with all you’ve been through, you’ve become a hardened version of yourself.”
“How dare you speak to me like that!”
“No, how dare you.” He flung a key at her. “If you’re interested, everything is set up in the attic. Frankly, I don’t care what you do with it.”
With that he turned and stomped off.
She shook her head and yelled after him, “You’re a pompous ass, Graham!”
If he heard her, he didn’t acknowledge her remark. He just kept walking until he was out of sight. How dare he? Staring down at the key, she wrapped her hand around it and put it in the pocket of her skirt. Knowing Graham, he would think she would be trotting right up to the attic to see what he’d left. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. She would wait for the right time. When he wasn’t here. Since his own estate was very close, she knew he wouldn’t be spending the night. He’d return to his own home to lick his wounds. Served him right, the arrogant rake.
