She shrugged. “It’s a short one.”
They continued eating while Lord Rupert and Lady Osanna discussed which of Rose’s stories was their favorite. After a few minutes, Lady Osanna said, “Lady Anne is sick a lot. Perhaps Frau Geruscha could prepare something, a remedy for her, some kind of herbal concoction that would make her stronger.”
“I’m sure she could.”
“She is so often tired. But I’m very happy Wilhelm asked her to come and stay with us for a while.”
“Wilhelm—I mean, Lord Hamlin—asked her to come?”
“He decided to send for her when I told him she was so lonely there at the abbey. Wilhelm handles a lot of decisions like that now. If something happens to Father, it will all fall on his shoulders anyway.” Lady Osanna sighed. “Sometimes I pity him.”
“Why?”
“He’s so serious. He won’t let himself forget his duties, even for a short while, and enjoy himself.”
Rose could have argued the point with her, remembering the way he’d played his lute all afternoon so Gunther and Hildy could dance.
“He never does anything solely for himself. He has a heavy sense of his responsibility. Don’t you think so, Rupert?”
“Yes, my brother’s a prude, a priest in layman’s clothing.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Lady Osanna glared. She leaned back on her hands and stared thoughtfully at the sky. “He’s…determined. And he would never break his word or do anything unchivalrous.”
“And he wants to make sure the rest of the family doesn’t, either.” Lord Rupert half closed his eyes and reached out to pet Wolfie, but the dog pulled back out of reach.
“True. He feels responsible for the family’s honor.”
What a heavy burden. But Lord Hamlin seemed capable of bearing it. Rose sensed he accepted his responsibilities almost with relish. Would they some day become cumbersome to him? She couldn’t imagine it. Rupert, on the other hand, would chafe under such a load of responsibility.
“Well, he isn’t responsible for me.” Lord Rupert stood up. He walked a few steps away and began picking the red-orange poppies that grew nearby.
“He’s always trying to find Moncore. He feels so accountable for his betrothed, for her safety. He’s never even met her, but he fully intends to marry her. I worry about him being too serious,” Lady Osanna said. “You understand my meaning, don’t you, Rose?”
“I think I do.”
“You’re the oldest in your family, and you’ve been working with Frau Geruscha for a while now. Do you have that problem? Is it hard to throw off the mantle of responsibility every now and again?” She chewed absently on some raisins.
“Perhaps, but I don’t have a region to rule like your brother will. I’m sure he is quite capable of bearing the mantle of responsibility. I believe it makes him happy to do his duty, for the good of his people.”
“Yes, duty, that’s it. And you’re right. He’d never be happy if he shirked his duty, but…” Lady Osanna sighed. “I suppose he’ll be happy enough some day, when he’s married to Lady Salomea. It’s only the strain of trying to capture Moncore that weighs so heavily on him, I suppose.”
Rose was sure Osanna was right, but thinking of Lord Hamlin married to the unknown Lady Salomea cast a pall over her spirits. A dark cloud drifted over the sun, blocking its rays for the first time since they’d started on their little jaunt.
Lady Osanna watched Lord Rupert as he gathered a handful of flowers. “That’s a good idea. I could pick some flowers to decorate the table tonight.” Rising, she wandered away toward the assortment of pink, blue, and lavender wildflowers that covered the meadow.
Rose jumped up to help. As she leaned over, pinching off stems one by one, a leather boot came into view next to her. She straightened, tossing her hair over her shoulder and out of her eyes. Lord Rupert stood holding out a fistful of poppies, a big smile on his face.
“For you.”
Rose hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wolfie with his nose buried in the grass, probably trying to sniff out a partridge or hare. Lady Osanna was also several feet away. She had fetched the food basket and was stuffing flowers into it.
The look in Lord Rupert’s eyes was so eager she couldn’t disappoint him. She reached out and took the handful of red poppies. He then wrapped his hand around the multicolored wildflowers she had gathered in her other hand, letting his fingers rest against her own for a moment. His chest, covered by his sleeveless crimson doublet, was at eye level and much too close. She took a step back.