Page 37 of Beauty and the Rake
“The storm seems to be bringing in the masses. I’m sure Cook can handle it.”
“Yes, she can.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
Violet cackled the moment the housekeeper walked out of the room. “Hawksbury?”
“What about him? He and Arthur have business together, plus you know they’re best friends—have been for life.”
“Yes, I remember,” Violet said. “Now if you will excuse me, I think I’ll lie down before dinner. I hadn’t realized how a long carriage ride can wear one out.”
“Come. I’ll walk with you to your rooms.”
“Thank you.”
The pair walked up the stairs and down hallways to get to the guestrooms. Roxanne stood in front of a white door. Inside, the walls were a delicious apricot color. One wall was covered with a wallpaper that matched the paint color wonderfully.
“I hope these will do. Uncle Charles’s room is right through that door,” Roxanne said.
“This is perfect.”
“If you need anything just ask the maid or pull the rope and someone will come.”
“Thank you. You’ve thought of everything.”
“I’ll see you at dinner.”
Retracing her steps to another hall, Roxanne entered her bedchambers. She threw her shawl on a chair and walked to the bed where she took Pamela’s letter out and began to read.
Pamela was back in London, getting ready to meet her mother in Dover. Her younger sister Jem was about to give birth and wanted Pamela to escort her to Dover. Jem wanted to spend some time with Pamela before she had to give her time to her family. Pamela had always had a flair for healing, even if her parents did disapprove in the beginning. The man she married had been a physician and he never discouraged Pamela from pursuing medicine. It was after his life was so tragically taken in a freak accident that she began to practice what she was successful doing. Basics. She was at an age when women were few and far between as physicians. She did what she could and assisted when necessary. Thus, why she was going to be present at her sister’s birth. Her mother wanted her to oversee the event. So, being the dutiful daughter, she would go.
Her friend inquired as to her photographs and was she more at ease with the bulkiness of the cameras. Truth was, she hadn’t taken any photographs. Everything had arrived in London, but she’d had no time, and she’d fussed at Graham for such an extravagant gift. She would love to get some photographs of Graham and the babe. It would be something he’d always have. She hadn’t asked him, but as soon as they had a moment, she would.
Putting the letter down, Roxanne repositioned herself on the bed, putting her head on the pillows. She sighed in relief as she settled in. She wished she could tell Pamela about Graham’s daughter, but she had promised she would keep it all to herself. At least for now. And there were doubts and whispers for a while when news first got out. But all would turn out fine because Graham didn’t care a bit about what the ton or anyone else thought of his decisions. He wasn’t the first man to have this dilemma and wouldn’t be the last. Most men, however, didn’t have anything to do with the child’s upbringing. They might help financially, but that’s as far as they would venture.
She needed to respond to Pamela’s letter, but her eyelids were getting heavy, and she doubted she could stay awake much longer. Pamela’s visit would be a welcome one. She could find more reasons for going into the village than anyone she knew. It would be nice to enjoy the company of someone closer to her own age. Roxanne placed the letter next to her and closed her eyes. The next hour she dreamed of going off into a field after a battle to confirm the casualties. Now what did this have anything to do with, other than she and the animal would be a place for all the estate’s animals. She began to see what, if anything, might be possible. She needed to clear her mind. This was more than she was used to.
*
“Is Hawksbury runninglate?” Roxanne asked as she effortlessly entered the room. She was wearing a cobalt-blue silk gown she had purchased in Paris before her return to England. She had loved how well the gown came together, hanging on the edges of her shoulders.
She walked to where everyone was gathered near the fire.
“I’m afraid he sends his regrets. His aged stallion is quite ill, and he doubts the animal will make it through the night,” Arthur said, handing her a glass of wine.
“Not Zeus! Hawksbury’s had him for years.”
“Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, he won’t be joining us,” he said, turning to his uncle. “Hawksbury’s had the horse since he was born. A gift from his father.”
The older man nodded. “Losing the stallion will be like losing a part of his father. I understand.”
Roxanne excused herself shortly after leaving the men to their cigars and brandy. She feigned a headache to her aunt, and Aunt Violet insisted she go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. Whether the older woman believed the headache excuse or not, Roxanne quickly climbed the stairs and found her bedroom.
Kicking off her shoes, she walked straight into her dressing room where her maid was waiting. “My dark blue riding attire.”
“You’re not going out on horseback at this late hour, are you?”
“The moon is full and nary a cloud in the sky. I’m not going far, and I’ll be fine.”
