A Rose Before Dying by Amy Corwin Read Free Book Online Page A

did not want a scene
in the middle of her greenhouse and in front of Rose.
    “We have no need of your services, Gibson.
Leave us. This is none of your concern.” Mr. Phillips turned his
back to him, dismissing the gardener. When Mr. Gibson remained
where he was, Mr. Phillips frowned and continued, “As co-owner of
Rosewell, I have every right to be here. There’s no need for you to
remain, Gibson. I have understandable concerns for my betrothed,
Miss Wellfleet—”
    “Rosewell is not yours, yet, nor am I your
betrothed.”
    He laughed. “You’re overwrought. All this
tedious work…. I wish you’d sit down—well, of course, there is no
place to rest here any longer. Don’t you miss that elegant little
table and the chairs that used to sit—well—precisely where you are
now standing? It must grieve you to lose all your little luxuries.
They bring such joy to a drab life such as yours. You must
understand, I have only your best interests at heart. I’d be
honored to take these burdens from your delicate shoulders and
manage Rosewell. As it should be run.” His placating tone set her
teeth on edge. “As it used to be run while your father lived.”
    Why couldn’t he see he was not welcome here?
That she could never accept his suit, no matter what her father had
promised while alive?
    Her temper flared as her feeling of
entrapment intensified. “I manage quite well, thank you.”
    “Of course you do. You’ve done remarkably
well considering your natural frailty and limitations. But so much
more could be done with the proper guidance.” He glanced around.
“Don’t you remember how much your father accomplished, despite his
age? And what a disappointment it was when you refused to grant him
his dearest wish and accept me—his closest friend—in marriage. It
might have eased his death if you’d obeyed him in that one, small
thing.”
    “No doubt,” Ariadne replied coldly. He never
failed to call forth her misery and feelings of inadequacy. Her
heart ached. He was right about her father. He’d begged her to
marry Mr. Phillips. It was for the best, he said as his thin
fingers plucked at the quilt covering his wasted frame. It would
preserve Rosewell.
    All she had to do was agree, and he could die
at peace.
    Unfortunately, she could not grant him that
peace. And now her refusal would haunt her until her dying day.
    “It’s late,” Ariadne observed. “If you’ll
excuse us?”
    “I’ll escort him out, Miss.” Mr. Gibson moved
forward to herd Mr. Phillips toward the door.
    “No need. I consider this my home,” Mr.
Phillips said.
    “You may believe your financial arrangement
with my father gives you certain privileges here, but I assure you,
it does not.”
    “Of course!” He pressed his hand over his
heart, though his eyes gleamed with cold speculation. “I understand
how dreadful the situation is. A female, alone, without anyone to
provide the judgment and skills necessary. Particularly since this
business requires a man’s hand to be suitably managed. There’s no
doubt your dear father meant for me to manage the nursery to
provide you with much-needed business sense. Just as he intended
you—”
    “No—”
    “Did I misunderstand, then? He seemed so
adamant.”
    “No. Nonetheless, we are not wed.” She
sounded churlish instead of calm as she intended. When she caught
Mr. Gibson’s uncomfortable and determinedly sympathetic look, she
flushed, but she felt compelled to add, “And you own no more than a
one-quarter share. No more. Hardly a controlling interest.”
    “Enough to be worried about the management of
my property.” His gaze drifted over her and again rested on Rose.
He frowned thoughtfully. “What is this creature doing here?”
    “She’s mine—that is—I’ve adopted her.” As
soon as she said the impulsive words, she regretted them. But once
said, she refused to take them back. She held the child close,
pressing her head against her hip.
    Rose belonged here, just like