that people’s reactions to death can be odd.”
“Better,” he nodded.
She rolled her eyes. “My mother’s death, for example, was crippling to us all. It was unexpected and beyond tragic. It broke my heart and disrupted the course of my life—but it nearly killed my father, as well. It left my baby sister without a mother and stole my—”
She paused, stricken, but he only waited a moment before prompting her. “Your what?”
How could she explain? Losing her mother had been devastating, and her greatest ability to comfort herself had disappeared as well. Her inner landscape had crumbled to dust. She’d felt hollow and empty for a long time—and with a shock, she realized that tonight she’d at last begun to lose herself in the telling of a tale again.
“My . . . peace,” she answered at last. “In contrast, Lord Mitford died a bit before Mama did—and Rosamond had a very different reaction. It was as if my mother’s death locked us all in a vault of grief, but the earl’s death meant freedom to Rosamond.”
He nodded. “I can see that. I didn’t know Mitford well, but he seemed a sour old gull.”
“He was. I found him to be a harsh man. I know the title and the wealth must have been hard to resist, but I am surprised her family encouraged the match, and I’m not sure why Mitford would wish to marry a woman so full of spirits and playfulness—and then attempt to remove every trace of it.” Her mind drifted back to those dark memories. “I didn’t see much of Rosamond, but it was enough to see that she was miserable. At one point I remember thinking that the earl must have enjoyed making her unhappy, so thoroughly did he pursue the job.”
Vickers’ expression had gone distant. “She must have wished for his death.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know, but I do know that it came as a relief. And after her mourning was over, I think perhaps she went a little wild with sudden freedom.”
“I did see her from time to time, in my own circles.” He raised a brow. “And as you are obviously aware, they are considered to be fast and loose.” He glanced over to Rosamond and her laughing companion. “But that does seem to have changed, since she’s been sponsoring you, has it not?”
“Yes. She was resentful of me at first. I don’t think she expected such a change in how she’s been received, either. I believe she’d become accustomed to the idea of being labeled a wicked widow—and chose it as a happy alternative to her former misery. But now . . .” She waved a hand. “She’s getting a different sort of attention from the beau monde , and perhaps has other options that she hadn’t expected.” She darted a quick glance across the room. “She’s found herself at an unexpected crossroads.”
“I understand.” But he was frowning down at her.
“We all face crossroads in life, but they are rarely comfortable places to be,” she said with a smile. “So I hope you will treat her gently.”
He nodded, but the distance was back, clouding the new brightness from his eyes.
She shouldn’t ask. It was no business of hers. But the darkness in him now, so different from the light the laughter called forth earlier . . . it broke her heart. “Have you ever wished for someone’s death?” she whispered.
Focus rushed back into his face with sudden, cruel clarity. “My father’s, do you mean?”
“I’ve heard the gossip.”
“No,” he said flatly. “I’ve never wished him dead. He deserves to live on—in more misery than even your cousin could imagine.” He gestured. “Sir Harold shows signs of leaving. I’d best fetch those drinks.” He moved away, but paused in the doorway. “Thank you,” he said over his shoulder. Then he was gone.
Unexpected emotion welled inside her. She’d done it. It had come back. That story of the princess had popped up, perfectly suited to the
“Better,” he nodded.
She rolled her eyes. “My mother’s death, for example, was crippling to us all. It was unexpected and beyond tragic. It broke my heart and disrupted the course of my life—but it nearly killed my father, as well. It left my baby sister without a mother and stole my—”
She paused, stricken, but he only waited a moment before prompting her. “Your what?”
How could she explain? Losing her mother had been devastating, and her greatest ability to comfort herself had disappeared as well. Her inner landscape had crumbled to dust. She’d felt hollow and empty for a long time—and with a shock, she realized that tonight she’d at last begun to lose herself in the telling of a tale again.
“My . . . peace,” she answered at last. “In contrast, Lord Mitford died a bit before Mama did—and Rosamond had a very different reaction. It was as if my mother’s death locked us all in a vault of grief, but the earl’s death meant freedom to Rosamond.”
He nodded. “I can see that. I didn’t know Mitford well, but he seemed a sour old gull.”
“He was. I found him to be a harsh man. I know the title and the wealth must have been hard to resist, but I am surprised her family encouraged the match, and I’m not sure why Mitford would wish to marry a woman so full of spirits and playfulness—and then attempt to remove every trace of it.” Her mind drifted back to those dark memories. “I didn’t see much of Rosamond, but it was enough to see that she was miserable. At one point I remember thinking that the earl must have enjoyed making her unhappy, so thoroughly did he pursue the job.”
Vickers’ expression had gone distant. “She must have wished for his death.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know, but I do know that it came as a relief. And after her mourning was over, I think perhaps she went a little wild with sudden freedom.”
“I did see her from time to time, in my own circles.” He raised a brow. “And as you are obviously aware, they are considered to be fast and loose.” He glanced over to Rosamond and her laughing companion. “But that does seem to have changed, since she’s been sponsoring you, has it not?”
“Yes. She was resentful of me at first. I don’t think she expected such a change in how she’s been received, either. I believe she’d become accustomed to the idea of being labeled a wicked widow—and chose it as a happy alternative to her former misery. But now . . .” She waved a hand. “She’s getting a different sort of attention from the beau monde , and perhaps has other options that she hadn’t expected.” She darted a quick glance across the room. “She’s found herself at an unexpected crossroads.”
“I understand.” But he was frowning down at her.
“We all face crossroads in life, but they are rarely comfortable places to be,” she said with a smile. “So I hope you will treat her gently.”
He nodded, but the distance was back, clouding the new brightness from his eyes.
She shouldn’t ask. It was no business of hers. But the darkness in him now, so different from the light the laughter called forth earlier . . . it broke her heart. “Have you ever wished for someone’s death?” she whispered.
Focus rushed back into his face with sudden, cruel clarity. “My father’s, do you mean?”
“I’ve heard the gossip.”
“No,” he said flatly. “I’ve never wished him dead. He deserves to live on—in more misery than even your cousin could imagine.” He gestured. “Sir Harold shows signs of leaving. I’d best fetch those drinks.” He moved away, but paused in the doorway. “Thank you,” he said over his shoulder. Then he was gone.
Unexpected emotion welled inside her. She’d done it. It had come back. That story of the princess had popped up, perfectly suited to the
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