Page 41 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
They eased through the crowd, which eventually spit them out toward the far end of the market. Rose’s eyes scanned each and every stall as they passed—the 50-something farmer with the broad shoulders and the hairlip (certainly not him?) and the youthful, bright-eyed 20-something who, when he spoke to his father, sounded like a chirping bird.
But of course, when Ernest appeared, Rose could feel it in Anna’s body. She tensed up and latched herself harder to Rose and seemed not to breathe for a moment. Rose followed Anna’s eyes across the market to find him: sturdy and broad-shouldered, with dirty blonde hair and these gorgeous, honest eyes. His beard was, indeed, rather long, and at first, he looked a bit gruff, a bit wild—until he turned his eyes up to see Anna before him. He nearly dropped the tomatoes in his hands when he spotted her.
Anna surged ahead, yanking Rose along with her. They reached Ernest’s table. Ernest fumbled with the final sale of his tomatoes, his eyes hungrily searching Anna’s. It seemed very much that Rose wasn’t even there.
Rose’s heart burst with a single thought: she wished that somebody would one day look at her the way Ernest looked at Anna.
“Good afternoon,” Anna whispered. The wind caught her hair beautifully, and it whirled over her cheeks.
Ernest reached up and drew her hair behind her ear. Everything about his expression spoke of sincere happiness, as though he could already see ahead years into the future—when the two of them knew one another in every single possible way. Fatherhood and motherhood and grief and love and everything in between.
“Anna. It’s been. Well. It’s been quite a bit of time since I last…,” Ernest said. His voice filtered off, as though he couldn’t begin to translate just how much this meant.
“I know. Too long,” Anna murmured. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, as though she was attempting to stop time. Then, she pressed on, tilting her head toward Rose. “I want you to meet someone very important to me. This is my friend Rose. She works as a governess at the Marquees’ estate.”
It was very much like he didn’t wish to do it, but he did turn his attention toward Rose for a moment. He gave Rose a nod and a halfway decent smile and said, “It’s wonderful to meet you.” He then took Rose’s hand and drew it toward his lips, as a gentleman might do when greeting a lady.
Of course, the man was merely a farmer selling his vegetables. But the action was beautiful all the same.
“I’ve heard that your… um. Vegetables are quite spectacular,” Rose said. She felt her cheeks redden as she dropped her hand back to her side.
Ernest smile grew wider. He turned his eyes back toward Anna and said, “Is that what Anna has told you? My goodness. I didn’t know I had any sort of reputation.”
Anna beamed. “It’s not as though I’ve talked about your vegetables endlessly. It’s only that they’re very much appreciated at the Marquees’ estate. They should know where their goods come from.”
“I appreciate that a great deal, my lady,” Ernest said.
Rose took a slight step back. Her eyes scanned the stalls, hunting for the nearest one where she might have luck procuring a gown for the party. But as she did it, Ernest ducked his head down a bit more to speak in a whisper to Anna.
“I assumed that you didn’t wish to speak with me again. After the letter I sent you, I imagined that—“
Out of the corner of Rose’s eyes, she spotted Anna slip the new letter onto the table and then slide it across. Her heart surged with panic and adoration and thrill. She stepped back still more, joining a line of ladies analysing a selection of cheeses. Where she stood, she could still make out what Ernest said and did.
“It’s just that I never thought you’d return a letter,” Ernest whispered. He brought the letter—signed with his name across the center, in Anna’s entirely beautiful penmanship—toward his face.
“I needed a bit of time, Ernest,” Anna returned. “It’s difficult to explain. Perhaps, one day, I’ll be able to.”
“No need, darling,” Ernest whispered—a nickname that, if Rose had to guess, had never been uttered between them. She could feel the tension building between them. Ernest’s hand glided over Anna’s atop the table, right next to the root vegetables. If there had just been more time, more privacy—Rose felt certain they might have pressed their lips together and held one another close.
But of course, the market had its own agenda.
A woman with enormous, hardly-bound breasts surged forward and thrust herself against the table. Ernest gave her this rueful look, like he couldn’t believe anyone else existed in the small little bubble that he and Anna had created. But after a moment, it seemed as though he remembered where he was, what he was doing. He nodded and gritted his teeth and asked the woman what she was searching for that day. Anna’s eyes flashed back toward Rose.
The two girls locked eyes for a long moment and Rose gave her an eager smile. Anna joined her at the cheese table, and her elbow dug into Rose’s side.
“What kind of look is that?” Anna asked her.
Rose snorted. “The sort of look I give when I catch someone falling madly in love, I suppose…”
Anna chortled and then cast her eyes to the ground, as though so much wild energy was an embarrassment so close to Ernest.
“Your romance seems entirely sweet,” Rose murmured. She drew her hand over Anna’s arm and squeezed it lightly. “And beautiful and very much the beginning of something. You should thank God above for it. It’s such a rare thing. I hope that one day, I’m allowed to have that sort of romance. I hope that one day, someone will look at me the way he looks at you.”
Anna tilted her head. Her eyes seemed heavy, genuine. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? Because it seems strange to me that you haven’t yet noticed the way the Marquees looks at you.”
A blush crept over Rose’s cheeks. She flared her nostrils and turned her attention back to the cheeses—their meaty fleshy edges and their oozing insides. Her stomach stirred with panic.
“That’s ridiculous,” she told Anna.
