Page 17 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
Over dinner, she displayed herself to be quite humorous, quite beautiful, quite upright and grateful and eager. Apparently, she was raised in an orphanage in downtown London—which both thrills me and confuses me. Imagine it, Allan. Imagine waking every morning surrounded by other girls and boys who haven’t two coins to rub together. Imagine going to bed hungry—just because there isn’t enough food to go around. I can feel the ache of this behind her eyes. It’s like a shadow that follows her around all the time. I dare say she doesn’t even know this sadness exists within her.
And I won’t be the one to point it out to her. Rather, it adds to her beautiful character, in a sense.
In the wake of dinner, my head ached with confusion, as it still does now. I am afraid, Allan. Afraid that this is the sort of woman who could make me fall—fall madly and forever. That kind of falling that I’ve always avoided (and I know I’ve spoken with you at length about how I feel romantic love negates productivity… and certainly has the capability to negate that productivity forever).
Regardless, as we’ve talked about several times before (and I know that perhaps I’ve bent your ear too many times, good Allan)—I declared long ago that I would never allow myself to have romantic feelings again. That heartbreak of the previous time was wretched and foolish and idiotic, and goodness, I know myself to be far cleverer just now.
I know that I’ve spoken to you too many times about this topic, and I’m terribly sorry to bring it up now. It’s only that I’ve pounded it into my skull countless times now—that I will never, not in a million years, fall back in love. And now, here it is, another opportunity upon my doorstep (or, more like, somewhere upstairs…). And I must have the strength to stand solid and avoid these strange feelings.
Beyond this, Allan, I must tell you that there was an unfortunate incident.
You know the current circumstances of my house better than most. And due to this unfortunate incident, I must confess that I believe this terribly clever governess might suspect something.
But I won’t bore you with those little details. Perhaps all will be well, and I’m simply overthinking everything. That is what I will believe so that I can sleep tonight.
Allan, I’d like to switch course to inquire about you instead. Darling Allan, how have your times turned? Are you still courting the woman who you intend to marry—and do you still find yourself pleased in her presence? You know that the both of you can visit any time you please.
In fact, I believe that since you really do enjoy children, you might have some fondness for my sister’s child, Duncan. He truly is inquisitive and strange (much in the same way I was, if you must know—which should illustrate a decent picture). And although I find it awkward to be alone with him (what am I meant to say to him?), I do think he will make a remarkable man.
I must sign off now, dear Allan, and tell you that I do pray that I will see you soon. I know you know how busy I am (but I also know you know how much I use that excuse—and I’m terribly sorry for that). I hope this letter finds you well and at peace and hopeful about the future.
All my love to you,
Colin
Colin leaned back and assessed his work, before folding up the slip of paper and easing it into an envelope. He warmed the wax and then oozed it over the envelope to seal it—using the crest of arms, the very same seal that his father had always used when he’d written his letters. Then, he marched out into the hallway and found the nearest butler.
He requested that the letter be taken at once to Allan’s estate. As he watched the butler race off to the stables, Colin’s heart felt strangely squeezed. Perhaps—perhaps he should, instead, take his horse out to see Allan, to have one of those age-old conversations he formally couldn’t get enough of. But it was like with each passing day, he built a thicker closet around himself and his own emotions. Now, he could only search out with letters, hungry for Allan’s answer.
Now, he could only wait—feeling strangely vulnerable after revealing so much of his soul over letter.
“How foolish,” he muttered to himself. He drew himself back into his study and slammed the door shut. In his mind, the entire estate shook around him as he paced. He felt dark, his thoughts brooding. And he hadn’t a single idea of what to do next.
Chapter 9
It certainly was strange that the Marquees hadn’t mentioned anything regarding his mother prior to this morning. Rose pondered this now as she crept back up to the library, her head heavy with questions. It was true that throughout her time with her previous employer, she didn’t remember hearing anything about the Marquees mother—herself now a widow, it seemed.
Was it possible that this was an oversight on Rose’s part? No, no. That simply wasn’t it. Since childhood, Rose had forced herself to pay attention to even the most tossed-away fact. She knew that people appreciated it a great deal when you remembered tiny details about them—that this, in turn, drew you closer to them. And because Rose was an orphan, she always needed to make people trust her. It was so terribly easy to toss an orphan under the rug, forget about her.
When Rose reached the library once more, she blinked out at the gorgeous room—its walls of lines and lines of books, its shelves that stretched high toward the ceiling. Two of the walls featured gorgeous stain glass windows, both of which featured portraits of two different women — both young and blonde, their eyes turned up toward the sky. Rose stopped and pondered the stain glass, wondering if the women were anybody in relation to the family. Perhaps Colin’s sister, Duncan’s mother, was one of them?
There was a shuffle toward the far end of the library. This yanked Rose back to reality. She’d arrived back to the library after her conversation with the Marquees for a single reason—and that was to continue her and Duncan’s wild hide and go seek game. When she’d left, Duncan had informed her that he was going to find the very best hiding spot, where she would surely never find him when she returned. “I hope I find you. Otherwise, you’re going to get very hungry up here,” is what she’d said.
Now, in the wake of the shuffle that gave him away, Rose tried out her voice. “Duncan? Hello? Did you disappear?”
She heard Duncan’s light giggling from behind the furthest curtains. Again, this reminded her of the little girl she’d attempted to follow the night before—the one who’d ducked behind similar curtains in an attempt to hide her identity. Why couldn’t she get that image out of her mind? Why did it draw her so?
“Duncan…” Rose began. She could feel the smile behind her words and prayed he couldn’t, if only to extend the game a bit longer. “Duncan, I don’t know what I’ll do without you in this world, now that you’re not in it. I suppose I can pretend for a while that you’re around. I’ll explain to your uncle that you’re always off somewhere, playing. I’m sure I’ll be able to keep it up for a while, the constant lies…”
Again, Duncan tittered. Rose crept a bit closer toward the curtain. Her stomach felt all bubbly with apprehension. “Oh but Duncan, don’t you think you’ll miss the great out of doors, being cooped up in your hiding place for the rest of your life? Think of it. There will be days and days of sun. There will be days and days of rain. There will be times to ride horses and times to climb trees—and even times to grow up, out there, if you want to. But if you’re caught in your hiding place forever, then who will do all that growing up for you, hmm?”
Duncan’s laughter had eased off a bit. Rose wondered if her story was getting to him. Could a boy of ten truly be so introspective?
Rose let out a cartoonish sigh and made her lip bubble out. “My goodness. I, for one, simply don’t know what I’ll do without you, Duncan. I hope I don’t lose my job when your uncle learns that I’ve lost you, you know? I suppose I didn’t even think about that when I started this reckless game. How stupid of me!”
Suddenly, Duncan’s voice sprung out from behind the curtain.
“Don’t be silly, Rose!”
