Chapter 11
Rosamund spent six months away from Westcott events.
Not banished.
Not invited.
Difference.
She sent one letter to Linnea.
No response.
Then stopped.
Good.
She wrote to me too.
I read it.
No request to restart engagement.
Just explanation.
Her father had raised her to believe a woman entering a powerful family needed support from older men.
Romance could disappear.
Patriarch approval lasted.
So Benedict’s contempt frightened her more than she admitted.
When he offered the House Purse test, she saw a doorway.
If she performed ruthlessness well, she would become unquestionable.
Instead she revealed exactly why she should not have unquestioned power.
She understood that now.
I believed her.
Belief did not equal reunion.
That distinction had become useful.
Months later, we met for coffee.
She asked about Linnea.
“Doing well.”
“Does she hate me?”
“Ask her someday if she allows it.”
Rosamund nodded.
Then:
“Do you?”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“Hate is easy.”
“What do you feel?”
“Disappointed.”
That hurt more.
I knew.
May you like
No cruelty intended.
Truth often finds its own sharpness.
