“Another Christmas Alone,” She Thought — Until a Duke’s Carriage Broke Down at Her Gate
Chapter 25
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They sat; tea was served. For several minutes, the conversation remained perfectly polite: the Dowager asked about Willowmere; Rosamond answered; she asked about Rosamond's family; Rosamond spoke warmly of Aunt Beatrice.Then the Dowager set down her cup. "My son tells me you manage your own property.""I do.""How unusual.""Perhaps.""Do you find it difficult?""At times. But I enjoy the work."The Dowager glanced at Julian. "He has always been rather enthusiastic about practical matters."Rosamond smiled. "I have noticed."Julian looked wary. "Rosamond..."She turned toward him innocently. "Yes?"His mother raised an eyebrow.Rosamond continued: "His Grace was exceptionally helpful during his stay at Willowmere."Julian closed his eyes. The Dowager leaned forward. "Was he?""Very.""In what capacity?"Rosamond smiled. "He attempted to prepare breakfast."Silence.Then Lady Margaret Ravensworth looked at her son. "Julian?"He sighed. "It was one egg, Mother."The Dowager's expression changed. "One egg?""A regrettable incident."Rosamond pressed her lips together. "An unforgettable one."For one suspended moment, the Dowager looked utterly astonished. Then she laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh.Julian stared at her. "Mother?"She shook her head. "Oh, Julian. Your father once attempted to make tea for me when I was ill. He put the leaves directly into the milk."Rosamond laughed; Julian looked between them. "I am beginning to suspect that this conversation is turning against me.""Quite possibly," his mother replied. And something in the room relaxed.After luncheon, the Dowager asked Rosamond to accompany her into the conservatory; Julian remained behind to speak with the steward. Rosamond followed Lady Margaret through a glass-paneled corridor filled with winter flowers: the conservatory was warm and bright, orange trees stood in large painted pots, and early blossoms scented the air.The Dowager paused beside a flowering camellia. "My son has changed," she said.Rosamond waited."He was always dutiful, always responsible. But after Catherine died, he became distant.""I know he loved her very much.""He did." Lady Margaret touched a leaf. "I was afraid he would never allow himself to be happy again."Rosamond looked at her. "He speaks of Catherine with great affection.""I am glad." The Dowager turned. "Miss Fairchild, I shall be plain with you."Rosamond straightened. "Please do.""I had hoped Julian would marry again. I had imagined a lady from a family with whom we were already acquainted."Rosamond nodded. "I understand.""But I had not considered whether such a marriage would make him happy." She paused. "When he returned from Christmas, he spoke of a small cottage, an elderly dog, and a lady who had apparently taught him that he was incapable of frying an egg."Rosamond smiled. "He was very brave about it.""So he tells me." Lady Margaret's expression softened. "I had not heard him laugh like that in years."