Color rose in Rose’s porcelain cheeks and she glanced away from Mary. “No. I mean, well …”
“You do like him! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t any use. I knew his father would never allow it. Sam said he was trying to win his father over to his way of thinking, but I know Mr. Treadwell isn’t the sort to change his mind. I didn’t want to tell you; I was afraid you might say something to his father.”
“Indeed I would—as if you were not good enough for his son! You are good enough for any man.”
Rose chuckled. “You see my point, then.”
“Yes. But I wish you’d told me anyway.” Mary paused, considering. “Rose… did you not wish to leave him? Would you rather we had stayed?”
Rose shook her head firmly. “No, of course not. Sam said a lot of splendid things, but he didn’t ask me to marry him. I doubt he would ever have gotten up his courage to do so. His parents are horridly snobbish.” She let out a little giggle. “They should see how our cousins live!”
Mary smiled. “No doubt. I’d like to see Mr. Treadwell say you’re not good enough for his son now.”
Rose shrugged. “Anyway, I’m not about to grow old waiting for Sam. And Mama was right. This was the best thing for us to do. Lily and Camellia will have a better life. And I know that if we had stayed, Cosmo would have somehow forced me to marry Mr. Suttersby, and I could not! You know how in Lily’s books, the women are always declaring that they would rather die than endure some man’s advances?”
“Yes, and a more muddle-headed lot I cannot imagine. It seems to me far preferable to do away with him rather than oneself.”
Rose let out a chuckle. “No doubt you would. But that is how I feel about Mr. Suttersby. I think I would rather kill myself than have to marry that awful man. His hair is gray, and his teeth are brown, and when he looks at me …” Rose shuddered.
“Well, you shall not have to do either,” Mary told her stoutly. “We left him far behind us. Good riddance to Sam Treadwell, too, if he is that weak-kneed. You will find someone far better to marry here.”
“Oh, Mary!” Rose reached out and hugged her sister. “Do you think we will really find any man like that here? Everyone seems so—so stiff and cold.”#p#分页标题#e#
Mary’s mind went immediately to Royce. She remembered the feel of his arms around her, of his lips upon hers. No, he was not cold, she thought, a secretive little smile hovering on her lips. She would not call Royce Winslow cold at all.
But she said only, “We have met few men here, after all. I am sure that you will be bound to find one to your liking.”
“Of course. You are right. And the earl does seem to have accepted us as his family. Everything will be fine. It seems strange to us now, but in time we will become accustomed to it all.” Rose straightened her shoulders and smiled at her sister as she rose from the vanity, braiding her hair into a single thick plait, her fingers quick with long practice.
Mary knew Rose well enough to be aware that the smile was forced. But she was also sure that Rose would try her hardest to make her words a reality. Because of her shyness and her sweet, compliant nature, people often mistook Rose as weak, but Mary knew that there was a quiet strength inside her. Their starched and prosy aunts would surely come to accept Rose.
It was Camellia and Mary herself, she knew, who would be the problems. Mary sighed as she took her sister’s place at the vanity, unpinning and brushing out her own hair. She would speak to Camellia tomorrow about the need for diplomacy and tact, especially in the beginning. But she would also, for all her sisters’ sakes, have to put a curb on her own unruly tongue. However much it might go against the grain, she would try to get along with these people.
It was some time before she finished her evening toilette and, rousing herself from her thoughts, turned to see that Rose was already sound asleep. Mary was tired, but as was often the case, she was too restless to sleep. Slipping on her dressing gown over her night rail to keep the chill at bay, she curled up in one of the chairs before the fireplace. But her thoughts did little to make her drowsy, filled as they were with apprehension about the future.
A book would help keep her mind off such thoughts. They had had to leave all their books behind; they were far too bulky to take to England. However, there must be a library somewhere in this house. Mary hesitated, reluctant to go creeping through a strange house this late, clad in night rail and dressing gown. What if she met someone? But surely the guests had all gone by now, and the earl would have retired to his own bedchamber.