Page 3 of The Lady’s Guide to Deception and Desire
He’d arrived the other week, likely looking for fossils, the Miss Everlys had said. She hadn’t been tempted to approach him, and be treated to some lecture on whatever it was he was digging for.
The company of women alone had suited her just fine, after the tension of having a domineering man around.
Not that her father had ever raised his fist against her, but perhaps only because she’d schooled herself to be meek and obedient, never daring to do anything that would incite his wrath.
Until now.
He probably thought she’d colluded in the whole thing, helping her mother in her escape.
Not that she could blame him.
If her mother had confided in her, wouldn’t Rosamund have done exactly that? Helped her in this madcap plan.
Lord knows, Rosamund had cried herself to sleep often enough on her mother’s account, putting her pillow over her ears to save from hearing those stifled cries.
The Burnell oil empire wasn’t run by a man who suffered fools. Sadly for Meribelle Burnell, she’d been too much on the receiving end of her husband’s temper.
“I needed some time to regain my equilibrium.” Rosamund’s mother gave a sniff. “Besides which, everyone knows the Season doesn’t start until the Fall. I was intending to go up soon and find a place to lease. One of the smarter districts—Mayfair or Belgravia or some such. We’d be sure to get to know the neighbours, and then the invitations would come.”
“Telling them I was an oil heiress, I suppose, but leaving out the part that I was likely disinherited.” Rosamund rubbed at her temples. Much as she loved her mother, she’d never been the practical sort.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Your Pa is mighty proud. I thought, if I found you the sort of husband he could boast about, he’d want to save face by paying whatever dowry was called for.”
“And what about you, Ma?” Leaning forward, Rosamund squeezed her mother’s hand. “You didn’t plan on going back, did you?”
The older woman’s lip wobbled. “I was thinking to stay with you, wherever you might take up residence. Your Pa wouldn’t be happy about it, but he might’ve let it pass.”
Rosamund had to admit that it made a degree of sense.
Mr. Burnell liked a tight rein on his household. Her mother had been right in thinking he’d never have given her liberty to stray so far. She’d seen an opportunity and seized it. A chance to get away from the man who’d heaped daily cruelty upon her.
Lord forbid Rosamund were ever in a marriage of that sort herself.
“I’ve something else to show you, Rosamund dear, and I hope you won’t be too angry with me.” Looking woebegone, her mother extracted an envelope from the pocket of her skirts. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I never meant to put you in this position, but I couldn’t stay any longer. I just couldn’t. And I didn’t want to leave without you and Ethan.”
The mention of her son’s name was clearly too much for the woman. Burying her face in her handkerchief, she sobbed again.
With shaking hands, Rosamund unfolded the letter and read.
Don’t you ever come back, Meribelle.
Nor that girl of yours.
You’ve made your beds and in them you’ll lie.
My son won’t hear your name no more.
I’ll teach him what’s right, and how to put a woman in her place.
Don’t think you’ll get no money neither.
You’ve taken enough.
Rosamund turned over the paper but there was nothing more. It simply ended. No other mention of her. She was simply "that girl", her mother’s daughter.
She and her mother were on their own.
As for her brother, would she ever see him again? In another ten years, he’d be a man—able to make his own decisions.
