Upon A Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(35)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"He’s worsening! But there isn’t any explanation! He only drinks his tea and barely touches his food!"

"Tea?" Stefan looked at the woman he once thought beautiful and perfect, indignation rising in his chest over the hurt Fitz must feel at her betrayal. "Fitz despises tea."

"It’s said to have healing properties, just last week Mr. Fairbanks said it was helping his mistress as well."

"Mr. Fairbanks?" Stefan searched his mind, why did the name sound so familiar. "Who is his mistress?"

"The Dowager Countess of Hariss, of course." Elaina answered curtly.

Stefan shook his head and patted Samson on the neck. Why would that strange valet Willard make a visit to their house? Naturally, if he knew they were all suffering from the same sickness he would want to help. But why did Stefan feel like help was the last thing Mr. Willard Fairbanks wanted to offer?

Footsteps neared crunching against the grass and stopped. He whipped around to see Rosalind standing before him. A bonnet covering her vibrant hair.

"I wanted to say thank you." Her eyes dropped to the ground.

Stefan chuckled. "To the dirt or to me? Apologies for my confusion, but it seems when one says thank you they do so by looking at the object they are thanking."

He noticed her swallow, watched as her neck slowly lifted that downcast head until her eyes met his in a compassionate stare. "Stefan, I…"

Enjoying her discomfort, he folded his arms around his chest and tilted his head to the side. "You…"

"I was wrong."

"Sorry love, what was that?"

Glaring, she fisted both hands and walked closer to where he stood. "I was wrong. I know how difficult this must be for you to understand, considering you rarely apologize, but that is exactly what I’m doing."

"And you were doing such an admirable job before you allowed your passionate side to get in the way, weren’t you, Rose?"

Her eyes darted away. He turned her head to face his, unapologetic about his grip on her chin as he drew her near and brushed a kiss across her lips.

"What were you wrong about, Rose?"

She stiffened. "Anyone can see us out here."

"Let them," he growled. "Now, let’s hear the apology, shall we?"

Her eyes sparked. "Fine then. You aren’t nearly as barbaric as I once thought, nor do you have the manners of an ogre."

"You never called me an ogre."

"Out loud, I didn’t." She smiled, "And when it counts…" Her lower lip trembled. "…when I need someone, something stable, the only image my mind can conjure up is one of you."

Samson neighed and nudged Rosalind in the thigh. "And Samson, of course." She added now giving full attention to the horse as she ran her kid gloves along his white fur.

Stefan glared at his horse and silently conveyed a message of a land without oats void of any trots and filled with nothing, save geldings. Samson, didn’t seem to notice the look of disapproval on his master’s face and merely rubbed against Rosalind all the more.

"Bloody animal," Stefan stepped in between the two and grabbed Rosalind by the shoulders. "I care about you a great deal, Rose. I—"

"—Are you two ready?" Isabelle came around the corner with her sister in tow. "It’s late in the morning, and we need time to find gowns and prepare!"

Words of love hung in the air. Would he never get his opportunity to tell her how he felt? With a shake he nodded his head, "Of course."

The girls turned and giggled. Rosalind ran ahead to join them. All three of their little heads together in excitement.

His face took on a smile that nearly hurt from its expansiveness, and Samson nudged him quite hard on the backside, as if to say, "Don’t be an idiot."

"Helpful," Stefan muttered and followed the girls to the awaiting carriage, but not before stopping and giving the groom strict instructions to hide the oats. He left the stables with noises of Samson’s protests. That’ll teach him to try to steal his future duchess.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

One may smile and smile, and be a villain!

~ Hamlet ~

That night as Rosalind looked in the mirror at her silk ball gown, she let out a giggle of delight. She hadn’t been to a ball since the night of Stefan’s re-appearance into society. Her nerves were on edge but only because the last time she was at a ball, she had promptly fallen asleep under one of the spells that so often plagued her. Mayhap the sickness was leaving her. Doctors were proven wrong all the time, weren’t they? And she hadn’t had a spell for months!

She took a sip of tea that Willard had brought and exhaled as she donned her new gloves and went in search of her sisters.

Stefan was waiting at the bottom of stairs looking more like a duke than she had ever seen him. Shuddering with delight at his devil may care smile, she felt herself flush as she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

"One more day," he said as he kissed her hand.

"Pardon?"

His eyes raked her up and down. "I’ll allow your imagination to finish the sentiment."

Before she could swat him for his rakish attitude, her sisters descended the stairs giggling in excitement. They were beautiful. Isabelle was in a light yellow that brought out her warm features and Gwen was in an off-white that set off her red rose lips and dark hair to perfection.

"Shall we, ladies?" Stefan announced holding out his arm to Rosalind. They all nodded and followed him out to the ducal carriage.

As they were announced at the ball, Rosalind could not help but wince as people began whispering immediately. No doubt, they were all privy to the rumors surrounding both families and the mysterious deaths that encumbered them.

"Pay them no mind." Stefan whispered. "Today you enter as a lady, tomorrow you will be received as a duchess."

Gaining strength from his words, Rosalind was able to nod and smile at those who would wish ill of her and talk about her.

"Grandmother," Stefan said as the dowager of Barlowe approached them with her jeweled hands extended. "Stefan! And look who is with you! Have I understood correctly that you both are to be married tomorrow?"

"Yes," Stefan said looking away. "It will be a short private ceremony we aren’t inviting anyone, just merely want to be done with the whole business."

"Well, I never!" The dowager sputtered. "My dear, he is such a rakehell. Please forgive his misdeeds and marry him despite his foolishness." She turned back to Stefan, "And you!" She poked him in the chest. "A woman’s wedding day is very important, how dare you say otherwise. I am appalled." With a shake of her head she walked off leaving Rosalind with the terrible problem of hiding her laughter from Stefan.