One Perfect Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

but Rosalind, her parents, and Aloysius all converged on Brian just in case his injury was serious. The boy gave a genuine yelp when Rosalind carefully examined his right wrist. “It looks like a mild sprain,” she said when she was done. “I’ll bandage it, and you’ll be fine in a day or two. Next time, don’t run on the stairs.”
    â€œI shall not be able to do my mathematics today,” her brother said hopefully.
    â€œYou can and you shall,” Thomas said sternly. “One does mathematics with one’s head, not one’s hands.”
    â€œNot true. Brian needs his fingers to count on,” Jessica said with deliberate provocation.
    â€œI do not!” her brother said indignantly. “You’re the one who never got through algebra.” Using his left hand, he spooned the last of the eggs onto a plate while Aloysius watched with keen canine interest.
    Jessica tossed her head. She was extremely good at it. “A goddess of the stage does not need algebra. It’s quite enough that I can estimate the box office receipts after a single glance at the theater.”
    Rosalind rolled her eyes. “I’ll get my medical kit while you two squabble.” She headed for the door. Since Brian had a ten-year-old boy’s talent for damaging himself, she always packed the kit last, so she could find it quickly. But before she left the parlor, she paused for a moment to glance at each member of her family.
    Her heart swelled with love. Once again she gave thanks for the fate that had sent Thomas and Maria along a shabby waterfront street, and the generosity that had caused them to take in a beggar child. Rosalind had only a few vague, nightmarish memories of her time on the streets, but she remembered meeting the Fitzgeralds with absolute clarity. If she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget the kindness in Maria’s eyes.
    She noticed with a pang the signs of age in her parents. Both were handsome still, but they were nearing fifty, with silver threads in their dark hair. Life with a traveling theater troupe was hard. How much longer would they be able to continue? And what would happen when the long hours and constant moving became too much? They lived with modest comfort, but there was little put by. Salaries and costumes and wagons cost money.
    Not that Thomas worried; he had faith that the Lord would provide. Unfortunately Rosalind lacked his belief that the Lord took a personal interest in the Fitzgerald finances.
    She left the parlor, closing the door gently behind her. Perhaps Jessica would decide to try the London stage and become so wildly popular that she could afford to support her parents in their old age. She had the talent, and the ambition. Or perhaps Brian would be a great success, since he also showed signs of significant acting ability. The two of them were the family’s best hope for prosperity, for Rosalind’s talents were modest. One might almost say nonexistent.
    With a sigh she climbed the stairs to the small room she had shared with her sister. There was change coming; she could feel it in her bones. Of course she’d always known that the family could not stay together forever. Jessica might joke about falling in love with handsome strangers, but it was a sign that she was ripe for the real thing. Someday soon she would find a husband and leave the troupe.
    Rosalind only hoped that when her beautiful young sister married, she would show better judgment than she herself had.
    Day Eighty-two
    By the time Stephen finished a leisurely breakfast, the rain had stopped, so he set off on the long ride home to Ashburton Abbey. The violent gastric pains he’d suffered during the night had made it clear that it was time to end this self-indulgent escapade and become the duke again. There was much to be done at the abbey, and in London.
    As he left Fletchfield, he crossed an arching stone bridge. Underneath ran the river that roughly