An Inconvenient Arrangement: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Three

by Callie Hutton

  “Surprising. Both the fact that she is from the Upper Crust, and a female. She must be an unusual woman.”

  Dante sighed and ran his palm down his face. “She speaks, writes, and reads seven languages. English, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, French and Arabic.”

  Hunt studied him with his jaw slack. He shook himself and smiled. “Ugly as sin, I assume. A body not worth looking at?”

  “Young, beautiful and possessing a very distractible body.”

  His brother burst into gales of laughter. “Good luck on this one.”

  Despite Dante’s scowl, his ass of a brother continued to laugh, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, shaking his head.

  “Have I ever told you how happy it makes me to be such a source of amusement for you?”

  Driscoll and Amelia entered the room, hands joined as if they were afraid of losing each other on the short walk from their carriage to the dining room. “What’s so funny?” Driscoll said.

  Dante stood and pushed his chair in. “Hunt, why don’t you fill them in, since you find it so entertaining, and I’ll go pick up Miss Sanford?”

  Amelia looked at Hunt as she sat. “Who is Miss Sanford?”

  Indeed, who was Miss Sanford? As Dante made his way downstairs and outside to the carriage—his, not Hunt’s—he pondered that question. Aside from exhibiting quite a wallop, she was everything he abhorred in a woman. Arrogant, condescending, confident, and annoying.

  If he’d been attributing those faults to a man, it would make sense, and actually make said man appealing to the ladies. However, Miss Sanford was not a man, and those faults did not sit well on a woman. At least not on a woman he’d ever dealt with before. He’d always favored women who were experienced in the bedroom, enjoyed flirting and dalliances, and were aware of how the game was played between a man and a woman who planned for no commitment.

  He doubted the haughty Miss Sanford had ever made it anywhere near a bed, except her own. Dressed in a nightgown up to her neck and down to her wrists, with a white ruffled cap on her head. He shuddered at the image.

  As the carriage made its way from the club to Miss Sanford’s townhouse, Dante had time to go over the situation. The hours he’d spent the night before doing the same thing had not settled him.

  He had no idea how to deal with a female partner, how to pretend a courtship with a true lady, and what the devil one did at these ton events.

  He climbed from the carriage, adjusted his jacket, and took the steps to the front door two at a time. He dropped the knocker, and the door was opened by a man fashionably dressed for the prior century. The butler wore white knickers, buckled shoes, a deep blue jacket and a wig. He bowed. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rose. Miss Sanford awaits you in the drawing room.”

  The viscount’s home was to be admired. Nothing showy or ostentatious. All the wall coverings, floor coverings and furniture were of excellent taste. The surroundings somehow reflected Miss Sanford, who stood in the center of the drawing room as he entered, offering him a bright smile. No sense of irritation from the liberties he’d taken the last time they were together.

  Miss Sanford was apparently not of the grudge-holding female class. A rarity to be sure. He’d been subjected to objects hurled at his head, tears, recriminations, threats, and other dramatics which generally ended when he presented the wronged woman with an expensive piece of jewelry.

  Perhaps he should have brought Miss Sanford a book on the Chinese languages in the event she needed smoothing over. He bowed. “Miss Sanford. You are looking lovely this afternoon.”

  Her smile dimmed a bit. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rose. You are looking lovely as well.” She might not hold grudges, but she wasn’t about to allow any sort of the flirtation by which Dante lived his life.

  She waved at the sofa next to her. “Will you have a seat? Before we leave, I think we should go over a few things.”

  He hated more than anything being out of his element. She knew the ton. She knew the languages. She knew how to maneuver around in social events. He refused to be the dummy who walked by her side, only to give her protection and the persona of the besotted beau. “Yes. There are a few things I would like to get straight before we start this investigation.”

  Miss Sanford dipped her head in acknowledgement.

  “Sir Phillip saw fit to have two people work on this assignment. Although I bow to your expertise in languages and how to move about in Polite Society, I have no intention of sitting back and watching you work.”

  When she merely continued to look at him, he continued. “Foremost, my job is to keep you safe—”

  She held up her hand. “I don’t need—”

  He held up his hand. “You do. That is one thing I will not compromise on. Despite your feeling of being in control, there are circumstances we might encounter which will require a bit more strength than cursing someone in Arabic.”

  She actually smiled.

  He continued. “If there is to be any snooping or other potentially dangerous activities, I will do those.”

  “No.” She took in a deep breath. “I can do more than translate. I’ve been on investigations where I’ve had to snoop. I’ve even been on an investigation where I had to attempt to seduce a man.”

  His heart dropped to his stomach. “No. That will not be allowed. Never. Not at all. Did you hear me say no?”

  She smiled again. “I did. Aside from my other talents, my hearing is quite strong.”

  “There will be no seduction. Nor attempts at it. If anyone is to do seducing, it will be me.”

  “Of the Ambassador? My goodness, based on your reputation, who would have known you had those inclinations?”

  He jerked and his lips tightened. “That is not what I meant.” He waved his hand around. “Never mind. There are other issues to discuss.”

  Miss Sanford raised her chin. “Yes. It is now my turn to make demands.”

  Lydia was quite tired of Mr. Rose laying down rules and ignoring her ability to contribute to the assignment in ways other than translating. However, in her experience, starting off with a friendly, positive manner always worked best. “I understand your concerns, Mr. Rose. I also concede that since I have no intention of following through on an attempted seduction, that might not be the best way to gain answers.”

  He snorted.

  “I will ignore that rude sound you just made and continue. I am able to snoop as well as the next agent of the Home Office, and in the past, I’ve uncovered vital information that way. However, instead of debating who has the best methods of uncovering information, I suggest I offer you some suggestions about a garden party.”

  She grinned when he groaned.

  “Firstly, if we are to pretend a courtship, it would be wise if you stayed by my side as much as possible. Also, at these sorts of events, there is little formality. We will be free to stroll the grounds, speak with whomever we choose and partake of the refreshments. The most important thing, of course, is to keep our eye on the Ambassador and see who he speaks with.”

  He nodded and stood. “I suggest we leave.”

  She stood and shook out her skirts. She’d spent the night before tossing in her bed, thinking about pretending a courtship with Mr. Rose. Ever since the kiss he subjected her to and her automatic response, she’d had to tell herself she had no interest whatsoever in the man in a romantic way.

  It hadn’t been easy. A renowned flirt and rogue, she would have to protect herself from his attentions. She huffed as they settled in his carriage. He thought to protect her from harm.

  Who would protect her from him?

  The ride was silent, and for the first time in her social life she felt a bit uneasy arriving at the garden party. It had been years since she had an escort to an event. Since she’d given up pretending to be on the husband hunt, and no longer needed to have a chaperone following her about, she preferred to arrive in her own vehicle, by herself. And leave the same way.

  Having her own carriage was best since Mr
. Rose was not the first man she’d been forced to slap. Or do other things that prevented further debauchery.

  She glanced over at him. There was no way to tell if he felt any apprehension about this, even though he was not a normal guest at ton events. He sat relaxed, his foot resting on his other knee, staring out the window. “Do you know what the German Ambassador looks like?” he asked.

  “I do. I’ve met him several times in the past year or so. He is a large man, with a dark mustache that covers his entire upper lip. He appears to be forever dodging his assistant, or secretary, I’m not sure which. A weasel of a little man, with beady eyes, that makes my skin crawl.”

  “Here we are,” Mr. Rose said as the vehicle came to a rolling stop.

  Once the door was opened by the driver, Mr. Rose stepped out and turned to assist her. He tucked her arm securely against his side and gave her a wink and his notorious lazy smile. She hated the warm feeling that ran through her at his actions.

  “No need to play the part until we have an audience,” she said from the side of her mouth.

  “Dress rehearsal,” he returned.

  “Miss Sanford, I am so happy you have decided to join us.” Lady Benson, their hostess for the afternoon, walked up to them, her hands extended. They offered each other air-kisses.

  Lydia turned to Mr. Rose. Before she could say a word, Lady Benson flushed a light pink and she smiled at him.

  “My goodness, Dante. I never expected to see you here. I’d given up on sending you invitations to my little gatherings ages ago.” She tapped him on the arm with her fan.

  Dante? She knew him by his Christian name?

  Mr. Rose bowed over her extended hand. “It is a delight to see you again, Lady Benson.”

  Her raised brows and slight smirk after glancing at Lydia said a lot about his formality. After a few seconds of silence, their hostess said, “Let me show you where the others have gathered.” She took Mr. Rose’s other arm and led them along a lovely stone pathway, around the side of the house to a beautiful garden in the rear. She chatted with him the entire time, flirting, casting sultry looks, and generally behaving as though they’d had some sort of secret between them.

  Lady Benson had been married for two years.

  Things did not improve when they walked up the steps to the patio. Several women moved from various parts of the patio to where she and Mr. Rose stood. Lady Benson continued to hold onto his arm as if she planned to faint and would need his strong arm as support.

  It didn’t take long for one of the women to edge Lydia aside and grasp his other arm. Exclamations of joy and surprise burst forth from giggling, flirting women, enough to turn Lydia’s stomach.

  Well, bloody hell.

  There would be no conducting an investigation if her partner were to be surrounded by adoring females everywhere they went.

  The worst part was the man was enjoying himself. He laughed, flirted, and allowed inappropriate suggestions to be tossed in his direction, until she was ready to slam him over the head with something handy and hard. Did he not remember they were supposed to be pretending a courtship?

  She moved farther behind him and stabbed him in the back with the point of her parasol.

  “Ouch.” Mr. Rose jumped as did the two females hanging onto his arms. He turned and took one look at her and immediately released his admirers. He reached his hand out. “Miss Sanford, please join us.”

  Join them? Join them?

  She had no idea how severe the look was she tossed him, but he immediately took her arm and the women backed up. Lord, she was coming across as a shrew. Rather than chase the women away, it would be best to join them, as he said, but make certain they knew he’d escorted her to the garden party.

  ’Twould be a very difficult investigation unless she made some things clear from the start. She looked up at Mr. Rose with what she hoped was not the anger she felt, but with affection. “I believe I would like a stroll in the lovely garden, Mr. Rose.”

  He bowed. “Of course, my dear.”

  The number of raised brows and gasps at his comment smoothed her feathers. Not that she cared if he flirted with these women. He could do that all day and night if he chose, but they were here to perform a job and spending his time bantering with every female in the place would not get the assignment done.

  She was far above flirting. She did not wish to act the simpering, eyelash-batting, arm clinging woman between the schoolroom and the grave.

  He took her arm and they moved away from the gathering, with a few of the women suggesting they would like a stroll in the garden, too, when he was finished with her.

  They made their way down the steps and onto the continuation of the pathway. Mr. Rose leaned close to her ear. “Jealous, were you?”

  She gasped. “Of course not. I don’t care how many women throw themselves at you.”

  Mr. Rose looked forward, patted her hand, and smiled. “I think you were jealous.”

  Oh, the man was insufferable. He was turning this investigation into a—well she had no idea what, but certainly not what they were here for. “Not at all. I assure you.”

  He smirked.

  She stabbed his foot with the point of her parasol.

  He grimaced.

  They continued their stroll.

  4

  The garden party unearthed no clues, since the Ambassador did not appear, although Lydia had told him she’d been assured he would attend. After a very stress-filled afternoon, with ladies attempting to shift his attention from Lydia to them, and the steam coming from Lydia’s ears, Dante was more than ready to give up this foray into Polite Society and return to the sanity of his club.

  Attempting to look disinterested, Lydia kept her eyes on her lap, smoothing her skirts as the carriage rode away from the Benson townhouse. “Do you always get such an overwhelming reception when you attend these affairs?”

  Dante laughed. “I do not attend these affairs. I believe I told you before, I avoid them at all costs.”

  She looked up at him, more with amazement than anger. “You never attend ton events?”

  “No. I find them a waste of my time.”

  “Yet, every woman in that garden party knew you.” She raised her chin. “And I dare say more than a few knew you in the Biblical sense, as well.”

  Dante didn’t know whether to laugh or blush. Something he never did. “I don’t know what you think of me, but I must tell you my real life doesn’t measure up to my reputation. You forget I own and run a business. I don’t have as much time for philandering as most people think.”

  She looked sideways at him and smirked. “Lady Benson is married.”

  “Yes, that is true. To Lord Benson. For about two years now, I believe.”

  “Why did she seem so friendly with you?”

  Dante leaned back, both amazed and amused at how upset Miss Sanford seemed to be with him. “Yes. She and I enjoyed a short relationship.”

  Miss Sanford huffed. “And what did her husband think of that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing, since she was not married then. She was a respectable widow at the time and lonely.” He leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “I do not dally with married women. Despite what you and most likely everyone else thinks, I think marriage vows are just that—vows. Not to be broken.”

  She narrowed her eyes, a look of disbelief on her lovely face. “Are you saying if you took a wife, you would be faithful?”

  “Of course.” He leaned back again, resting his foot on his other knee. “Which situation would never exist since I will never take a wife.”

  Miss Sanford turned her attention to the busyness on the outside pavement as the carriage moved through traffic. “I understand, since I feel the same way.”

  “You would not take a wife, either? How interesting.”

  Her mood switched from somber to laughter. “You know what I mean.” She shifted in her seat, getting more comfortable. “As much as you might think marriage is not for you, can yo
u imagine being a woman and knowing that you would be ‘owned’ by your husband? You cannot sign legal papers, open a bank account, start a business, or even decide where you want to live without your husband’s permission.”

  “I must admit I never thought of that, but you are correct. Which is why if I ever had a sister or daughter in my care, I would make quite sure the man she married was an honorable man who would not treat her like a possession.”

  Miss Sanford’s mouth dropped. “How very forward-thinking of you, Mr.

  Rose. I must admit I am impressed with our conversation so far.”

  “You sound amazed that I am not the monster you thought I was.”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t think you a monster, but based on what I’ve heard, you are a rogue who broke women’s hearts.”

  “Again, not true. Before I start a relationship with a woman, I make it quite clear that nothing will be permanent. Therefore, no so-called broken hearts.”

  “Then you never intend to fall in love.”

  His laughter could probably be heard outside on the pavement. “Love is for young ladies’ romance novels. And my two brothers.” He mumbled the last part, not even sure why he shared that bit of information.

  “What was that you said? I missed it.”

  Dante cleared his throat. “I said love is for my two brothers.”

  “Do tell.” She offered a bright smile. “I know very little about your brother Driscoll, but I know the Earl of Huntington married a couple of years ago. I must admit it was quite a surprise to most of the ladies who had hopes.”

  “But not you?” He grabbed the strap hanging next to his head as the carriage jockeyed over bumps in the road.

  “No. I happen to like your brother very much, but I had absolutely no tendre for him.”

  It was certainly time to stop this ridiculous conversation. Why were they discussing marriage, love, and other nonsense when they had an investigation to conduct? Another reason why teaming up a man and a woman for an assignment was not a good idea.