Page 30 of Claws and Contrivances
“I wasn’t even attempting to avoid you,” Rose protested. “In point of fact, I’ve been wanting to have a word with you. If you could lower your voice, for the sake of the dragons—”
“Oh, you’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?” Serena sneered magnificently. “I’ll wager you lay awake all night quaking in your bed over how much trouble you’ll be in if I tell Mama what I witnessed.”
“What you witnessed?” Rose’s own voice rose in disbelief as all her carefully planned arguments dropped away from her. “Serena, you met with a disreputable gentleman at night, alone, without a chaperone! What were you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” Serena declared as grandly as if she were declaiming from a pulpit. “And I cannot believe you dared to act so prim and shocked by me last night when you were on your way to an illicit rendezvous!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Rose rolled her eyes. “Mr Aubrey is my fiancé and a respectable friend of your father. It is hardly the same as—”
“Do you really believe that would make Mama give her approval to a midnight meeting?”
Rose’s teeth came together with a clash as she bit back her instinctive, hot retort. She wasn’t the only one in danger now. If she pushed Serena too far, poor Mr Aubrey would find himself forced into wedlock before he could even utter the plaintive word ‘dragon’.
“Serena,” she said tightly, “you know perfectly well that you cannot inform your mother of anything you saw last night without her discovering your own escapade.”
“What then?” Serena shrugged, tossing her still-plaited, long, black hair over the well-worn shoulder of her dressing gown. “There are worse fates in life than being forced into wedlock with a mysterious, titled gentleman.”
“Sir Gareth is no gentleman!” Rose snapped. “Didn’t you hear what your father said about him yesterday?”
“Oh, Papa.” Serena let out a huff of laughter. “I’d hardly call him an expert on romance! Would you?”
“I’d hardly call you an expert, either.” Crossing her arms, Rose raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “Remind me, exactly how many eligible gentlemen have you ever met?”
“How many will I ever meet, buried out here in the middle of nowhere?” Snorting, Serena crossed her own arms in an angry mirror of Rose’s action. “There’s no need to act so high and mighty with me, cousin. At least I have some standards. I’m not the one so desperate for a match that she tricked one of my father’s hopelessly weedy friends into a betrothal in mere hours!”
Rose gasped. “How dare you? Mr Aubrey is neither hopeless nor weedy. He’s one of the foremost dragon experts in Britain, and he’s exceedingly appealing! Unlike Sir Gareth, he’s kind and thoughtful, and your father says he’s the most brilliant—”
“But you don’t deny tricking him into it.” Serena arched a superior eyebrow. “Has he even noticed that you exist yet, without any scales of your own to draw his attention? I saw that you were the one who kissed him last night.”
“That is—arrgh!” Rose muffled a furious scream in her fist as she felt Griff tremble convulsively against the back of her calves. He had taken refuge underneath her skirts while Rhiannon quivered, but clung bravely to her side, ready to partner her in battle. Drawing a deep breath, Rose forced herself to stay silent for a long, recuperating moment, for their sakes.
Finally, keeping her voice low and controlled, she said, “When I lay awake last night, Serena, I was worrying about you. Think what you like about my choice of fiancé, but when it comes to Sir Gareth, you must take more care. The fact that you find your own home tedious doesn’t mean you should throw yourself into a far worse situation! Just think, if he’s willing to use pain to discipline innocent young animals, how would you expect him to treat a wife?”
Serena heaved a long and weary sigh that ruffled every abraded inch of Rose’s temper. “Animals and wives are very different matters, cousin. Besides, you and my sisters all took him far too literally. Clearly, he was speaking metaphorically.”
“He was not.”
Serena was already turning away, shaking her head impatiently. “You’ve no understanding of gentlemen, any of you. If you did, you’d know that even the darkest and most dangerous of villains can be tamed by the right sort of lady. So, I’ll thank you to leave my choice alone from now on and allow me to manage everything myself.”
“Ha!” said Rose.
But her voice was covered up by the slam of Serena’s door closing against every reasonable argument.
It was useless. She couldn’t possibly convince Serena of Sir Gareth’s wickedness without showing her the cruel marks that those metal cuffs had left upon Rhiannon’s back legs, and in Serena’s current temper, even they might not be enough. Worse yet, if Rose convinced Serena that Sir Gareth was the owner who’d left those marks, her cousin might choose to endear herself further to him by returning his lost property.
Still, Rose couldn’t stand back and allow Serena to be swept off her feet by him, either. Unlike her sheltered cousin, Rose had seen the effects of male tempers unleashed upon dependent wives. Her mother had cared with fierce compassion for every member of their village, including more than one unfortunate woman whose marriage had become a misery.
Rose could never abandon even her most aggravating cousin to such a fate.
She was simmering with frustration as she stalked down the main staircase five minutes later, after tempting Griff back out from under her skirts, praising Rhiannon for her courage, and reassuring both of them of their safety.
Breakfast at Gogodd Abbey was an informal affair, with a large sideboard laid out by Mrs Davies at what she considered an appropriate hour and then gradually demolished by various members of the family across the scattered hours of the morning. Even young Rupert took part – with his nanny’s firm chaperonage to ensure that no food was misused in his radical art experiments.
The only firm and explicit rule for older family members was that the breakfast room door must remain closed at all times in between family visits, to prevent illicit incursions by the incorrigible paws and tongue of Cwtch.
Still, Rose knew Mrs Davies well enough to understand the unspoken but equally urgent rule of asking permission before feeding any of those carefully prepared breakfast options to visiting animals. So, when she reached the bottom of the staircase, she turned her own steps towards the kitchen rather than the breakfast room, in hopes of finding the housekeeper there.
Instead, she found a lanky, unexpected figure standing directly in front of the open kitchen doorway, immersed in a book.
