Page 1 of An English Rose for the Highlander
1
“Tell me more about the situation, Miss Barton.”
Rose sat rigidly, as though leaning back against the seat might bring her pain. Though there was little in the world that could cause her more discomfort and humiliation than that which she had already been through. That was why she was forced to come here, to the matchmaker’s office.
Mirren Wood had graciously agreed to see her, and they sat together in the woman’s airy, light-filled parlor as Rose was forced to swallow down her anger. She should not have to be here. Rose had been engaged to a fiancé, a Viscount who would allow her to marry above her station, until…
Dwelling on the matter will not serve you. Answer her question.
“I am in search of a good match. I am looking to wed, and I wish to do so quickly as I want to create stability for my family and myself.”
Rose had intended to leave this meeting with the matchmaker with at least the good news for her parents of possibility—the possibility that a way out of this situation was on the horizon. They could not stomach another downturn of events, the two fragile souls already hanging on by a thread. She’d worked for years to care for her parents, to shield them from the darkness of life, often feeling liketheirmother as opposed to the other way around.
“I see.”
Mirren narrowed her eyes at Rose, scanning her from top to bottom as she held a quill perched over a piece of parchment. The woman was renowned for her exceptional skill in matchmaking. Still, she was also well known for having a sharp, discerning eye and blunt way of speaking, tending toward frank honesty instead of flowery words or softened blows.
However, Rose was most enthusiastic about working with Mirren Wood because she was notorious for her ability to see beyond titles and dowries, peering into the heart of what made two people a good “fit.”
Rose needed that desperately right now.
“That is good information to have right away,” the woman replied with a gentle nod. “And tell me about yourself, Miss Barton. I have the information from your letter, but I prefer to hear the truth right from my clients themselves.”
Fidgeting with her gloves in her lap, Rose cleared her throat. She was distracted by the flutter of the pulse in her neck, seeking to remain as outwardly calm as she could. The truth was a sticky subject for Rose, and she had been working diligently to keep word of her family’s situation and her own disgrace out of the grasp of theton.
She wasn’t looking to cook up a scandal that would leave her parents genuinely destitute.
“All right. As stated in my letter, I am twenty-four years old, and I am looking for a husband as the daughter of the Baron of Fernside. I,unfortunately, do not have much in the way of a dowry to offer the groom. Still, I am educated and healthy, very capable of being a good wife.”
“Not much in the way of a dowry does make my job considerably more difficult. Is there something that prevents your family from providing a dowry of similar size and type to others of your class?”
“We…”Rose had to steady her shaking voice, swallowing down the lump that formed as tears threatened on the perimeter of her eyes. “We have fallen on some challenging times, that is all. Nothing that will affect a marriage moving forward. And I see no reason why I cannot bear a suitable heir and be a pleasant wife, regardless of my dowry size.”
“Challenging times? My dear,” Mirren leaned forward in her seat, gripping Rose’s hand as it trembled and offering a sympathetic eye, “I do my best work when I have a fullunderstanding of a situation. I can assure you that no mention of your family’s ill luck will leave this room. Discretion is something I understand completely.”
The burn in Rose’s eyes grew tenfold, and she ducked her stare to her lap, where Mirren stroked her thumb across her skin. Her chest ached for secrecy, but even more so because this entire mess could have been avoided. She should not be in this situation. If it weren’t for Ambrose, for her inability to see through him from the start, Rose would not be in the office of a matchmaker, desperately needing to get married.
Though I cannot deny the anger that fills me because my parents have yet again made a rash decision through which they did not think.
Her parents were so naïve at times, but she had always been the one to correct them. She should have paid more attention this time. If she had, Rose was sure that she would have been able to prevent all this.
“Apologies,” Rose shook herself as she met Mirren’s eyes once more. “I do not mean to be so emotional. In truth, I am quite upset because my family and I are now struggling to correct a terrible oversight. You see, I was recently engaged. I was to marry a viscount, in fact. But…unfortunately, he absconded with my dowry prior to the wedding, leaving my family with nothing. I should have seen through his persistent charms, smelled the rotten core beneath the sweet shell. But alas, I did not. My father…did not include the proper provisions in the dowry contract, and so I am here.”
Sympathy radiated out of Mirren’s stare, and she nodded once as she patted Rose’s hands. As she sat back in her seat, Mirren clicked her tongue, shaking her head before looking up at Rose again.
“You should not blame yourself for the actions of a greedy man. Preparations, contracts, they are well and good, but it is not a failing of yours that has brought you here, but the cruel actions of a man that dare I say would have made an awful husband.”
A small chuckle left Rose, and she smiled half-heartedly at Mirren. The situation was still grim, but being in the woman’s presence left Rose feeling warm and safe. She was not looking upon her with judgment in her heart, but with understanding and empathy. It was a rare gift in today’s world, and Rose was especially grateful for it.
“If only I were a bit of a miracle worker, Miss Barton.” Mirren looked at her notes with a sigh, the corner of her mouth lifted. “You deserve a good shot at marriage, but without a dowry, it will be exceedingly difficult to secure you a match.”
When the woman met Rose’s eyes once more, it was not without a dollop of pain behind the deep blue irises. She was only a bit older than Rose herself, and the shimmering waves of her black hair were pinned up beautifully. In the back of her mind, Rose thought about how Mirren herself would make a fine match for some young fellow looking for a bride, and her mood soured all the more.
She could not allow her family to sink into ruin like this.
“I am not entirely without assets. While we may be close to destitute because of the Viscount’s action, I still retain the deed for a plot of land.”
“Oh?” Mirren perked up, eyeing her with her quill poised against the parchment as she sat sideways near her large oak desk.
