A Vow for an Heiress

by Helen Dickson

  ‘What made you bring him here? Why not go on to Grosvenor Square?’

  ‘He—he didn’t want anyone to see him in that state—and your house was much closer.’

  ‘And yet you managed to get him up the stairs.’

  Rosa lowered her gaze lest her aunt saw the truth in her eyes. She must not know that anything improper had occurred. ‘Yes. He—he passed out almost immediately. Archie fetched Dr Walsh to examine him. He was convinced he’d been administered a narcotic and that he would sleep it off.’

  ‘And this morning? How did he seem?’

  ‘If he was still suffering the effects of the drug, then he gave no indication of it. So much has happened that I could never have believed would happen.’ Her aunt was silent and attentive as she told her about William’s declaration of love. ‘I’ve asked myself what it can possibly mean. He seems to have had a complete change of heart and it’s left me so confused I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘It’s quite incredible, I agree. Did he propose marriage?’

  ‘I don’t think he would have told me he loved me if that was not what he intended.’

  ‘I think you are right, but I remember how angry you were when he called off the wedding.’

  ‘Of course I was. But since he left me earlier, I’ve had cause to scrutinise and analyse my feelings. One thing that has become clear to me is that my initial outrage was due to wounded pride and humiliation rather than injured virtue. Does that make sense to you?’

  Clara returned her smile with understanding and settled herself more comfortably in her chair. She suspected Rosa hadn’t told her everything, that there were some things she preferred to keep to herself. ‘So where does Lady Willoughby fit into the picture?’

  ‘I no longer think she does. I might have been mistaken where she is concerned.’

  ‘What will your answer be if Lord Ashurst proposes marriage? Will you be prepared to give him a second chance?’

  Rosa sighed deeply. ‘In truth, Aunt Clara, I don’t know.’

  ‘Then what are your feelings with regard to him?’

  Relenting, Rosa sighed deeply and confided some of the thoughts that were beginning to trouble her. ‘In the beginning he saw me as little more than a means of paying his debts and financially securing his future. Now there is no longer money involved—truly—I have no idea how I feel. But what I do know is that there is something between us that seems to draw us together. He fills me with such confusion that I do not know what to think. He has a habit of encroaching on my thoughts when I least expect it.’

  * * *

  As the days slowly slipped by, much to Rosa’s surprise and impatience and apprehension there was no word from William. A gold-embossed card arrived from Lady Willoughby. It was an invitation to Mr and Mrs Swinburn and their niece Rosa Ingram to attend a ball at Willoughby House, Lady Willoughby’s mansion in Piccadilly.

  Since coming to London Rosa had frequently attended parties at the houses of her aunt’s friends, but this was her first ball. She was apprehensive and voiced her reluctance to attend to her aunt.

  ‘William is bound to be there. Not having seen or heard from him since he left the house that morning, I am reluctant to come face-to-face with him at such a public occasion.’

  ‘Of course you can. Besides, my instinct tells me Lord Ashurst might have had something to do with us being invited. To be invited to such an important occasion is an honour and a privilege and a true mark of distinction, for Lady Willoughby is only ever seen in the choicest circles and her friendship with prominent members of royalty means that her invitations are not to be refused. You must attend.’

  Taking her courage in both hands, Rosa gave in, but she was uneasy.

  * * *

  It was at a soirée Rosa was attending with her aunt when she next saw Lady Willoughby. Rosa was about to rise from the sofa where she had been taking a quiet moment when Lady Willoughby put out a bejewelled hand and stopped her, her shrewd eyes assessing her from a tranquil face.

  ‘Please don’t get up, my dear,’ she said, perching herself next to her. ‘I saw you arrive with your aunt and I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to speak to you all evening. I’m so pleased you are to attend the ball I am giving before returning to Berkshire. William will be there, which should please you.’

  Rosa stared at her. ‘I—I beg your pardon?’

  Lady Willoughby laughed her deep warm laugh and patted Rosa’s hand. ‘Forgive me, my dear. I do tend to be frightfully outspoken—too outspoken, my husband was always telling me, but that is my way. I know William quite well—from the days when he came from India to stay at Ashurst Park. He is always appreciative of a beautiful woman. The way he looks at you with particular interest tells me he has singled you out. In fact, you are the first woman he has shown a serious interest in since that unfortunate affair in India. You know about that?’

  ‘Yes—he did tell me.’

  ‘You will be good for him. You are just what he needs.’

  ‘I—I’m sorry, Lady Willoughby, but...’

  Lady Willoughby must have followed the thread of thoughts on her face, for she smiled knowingly. ‘If it is any consolation to you, I know that William is very much attracted by you. I also know the two of you were to marry before you left for London.’

  ‘He—he told you?’

  ‘Oh, no, not William. The vicar of Ashurst—who was to perform the ceremony. I will not ask you what happened—that is your affair—but when I saw you together in Hyde Park I could see there was something between the two of you still.’ Tilting her head to one side, she said, ‘You are in love with him, aren’t you, my dear?’

  Rosa stared at her mutely, and Lady Willoughby could read, by the sudden colour that sprang to her cheeks and the confusion in her eyes, that she had hit upon the truth.

  ‘You can rely on me not to let what you say go beyond these four walls, if that is what’s worrying you.’

  Yes, Rosa thought, she could trust Lady Willoughby. She liked her and felt comfortable with her, as though she had known her all her life. It wasn’t difficult to see why William valued her friendship.

  ‘I do love him, Lady Willoughby.’

  ‘I thought as much—although I don’t think he is an easy man to love. Unlike many men of William’s background, he is a private man and stays away from frivolous intrigues, even though several ladies have made their availability known to him. When Charles died so tragically, William was quite beside himself with grief. It will take him a long time to get over what happened and to adjust to his new life. Charles was a highly likable young man, although somewhat wayward. He was the life and soul at any event, but he had a weakness for gambling and lost a considerable sum of his inheritance at the tables.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this, Lady Willoughby?’ Rosa asked, her face impassive.

  ‘Because you are different and I like you. Raised in the Caribbean you do not altogether understand the way of things here or society as we do. In that you and William are alike—and I suspect he is in love with you. William is my dear friend as well as my neighbour, and I do so want him to be happy with the right woman—especially after what happened to Charles. He needs a woman by his side to share the burden of restoring Ashurst Park to what it was. My instinct and my judgement—which is hardly ever wrong—tells me that you are that woman, Miss Ingram.’

  Realising that she had misunderstood William’s relationship with Lady Willoughby, Rosa smiled. ‘Thank you for saying that.’ She lowered her eyes, a faint flush mantling her cheeks. ‘And now I feel that I must beg your forgiveness. You see—I—I thought that you...that you and William were...’

  ‘What?’ What Rosa thought dawned on Lady Willoughby, which she clearly thought was hilarious. When she stopped laughing she sat back and took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘Oh, my dear, how wrong you were—and quite naïve,’ she said,
not unkindly. ‘I am far too old for William—although with one husband and a string of lovers behind me, I am easily tempted by a handsome face. At this present time my passions are directed to Lord Frampton—who is much older than me but he has a marvellous sense of humour, shares my passion for horses and is dangling his fortune before me like a carrot to a donkey.’

  Rosa found herself laughing. ‘You are quite incorrigible, Lady Willoughby.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I have a dreadful habit of stepping forward instead of back. I have been incapable of learning by experience to conduct my life in less turbulent waters. Goodbye, my dear, and I am so looking forward to seeing both you and William at my ball.’

  Rosa watched her cross the room to join a group of ladies, strangely touched by her concern for her well-being. Her words had dispelled any notions she had that she and William’s relationship was anything other than platonic.

  * * *

  The night of the ball finally arrived. Rosa spent a great deal of time over her appearance, having sat for what seemed to be hours before the dressing-table mirror as Dilys swept her hair up into intricate, tantalising curls and teasing soft tendrils over her ears. Her gown was a dream of pale lemon chiffon, with a low bodice displaying more of her swelling breasts than she thought was proper, but her aunt didn’t appear to think so. With a twinkle in her eyes she smiled with undisguised approval as Rosa fastened a diamond necklace around her throat and drop diamonds danced in her lobes, diamonds that had once belonged to Rosa’s mother.

  Fingering them lovingly, Rosa smiled at her reflection. ‘Do you not think the diamonds are a little extravagant, Aunt Clara? Young, unmarried ladies don’t usually wear diamonds.’

  ‘No, Rosa.’ Clara’s eyes were sparkling with admiration as she looked at her niece. Her beauty was something to behold. ‘You must wear them. After all, what is the point of having beautiful things if they are to be kept hidden away? A necklace of such beauty should be seen and appreciated and tonight is such a grand occasion, don’t you agree? Now come along. Michael is impatient to see you in your finery. He will be so proud to escort such a beautiful woman on his arm. You look breathtaking. Why, look at you—daring, elegant and special, and so lovely. Any man, even one in his dotage, who sees you tonight, looking as you do, will surely find his heart going into its final palpitations.’

  Laughing lightly, Rosa stood up and kissed her aunt tenderly on the cheek. ‘Two beautiful ladies, Aunt Clara,’ she said, looking fondly at her aunt attired in a gown of saffron silk and gold lace.

  The preparations complete, they went downstairs to join Michael. He watched his two favourite ladies descend the staircase and the vision of loveliness he beheld made his heart swell with pride. When they were summoned to the coach Dilys carefully folded Rosa’s velvet cloak about her shoulders. Despite her apprehension at seeing William—for she was certain he would be there—she was excited and light-hearted. It promised to be a glittering occasion.

  * * *

  The celebrated parties and balls given by Lady Willoughby when she was in town were typical of the London social scene, helping to draw some of the gentry from their country estates. Tonight’s ball was to be a lavish and grand affair, with the cream of London society invited. The mansion was ablaze with lights and the roads around it crowded with vehicles. Footmen in powdered wigs and crimson and gold livery, bearing torches, met the guests and escorted them up the front steps to the house. Enormous bouquets of sweet-scented flowers in tall stands were placed around the hall.

  From his vantage point on the gallery overlooking the hall, William lounged against a pillar and watched Rosa arrive with her aunt and uncle. He smiled to himself, a mischievous, calculating smile, a smile those who knew him would be wary of. She was a cool vision of poised womanhood and undeniably the most lovely young woman he had seen.

  As if sensing his eyes upon her, pushing back her hood Rosa looked up and saw him. His gaze slid slowly over her face. He inclined his head towards her, feeling an instant response to her beauty, her femininity, seeing how the light from the many candles lit up her hair like a silken sheath as she passed gracefully inside.

  Caught in the spell of those compelling blue eyes, Rosa could not look away from him. He had given her two weeks to consider his declaration of love. Now she was faced with him she was overcome with relief and a strange light-heartedness, her fears and uncertainties vanishing like the morning mist. She paused a moment before following her aunt and uncle to where Lady Willoughby stood in the centre of the hall greeting her guests, continuing to look up at him. Holding her eyes with his own, a strange smile playing on his lips, he didn’t move an inch.

  He was attired in an exquisitely tailored claret jacket and pristine white cravat, the whiteness emphasising his dark, lean features. The meeting was more difficult than Rosa had anticipated. So much time had elapsed since she had last seen him—the events of that meeting, of their loving and how he had left her after telling her he loved her, still vividly clear in her mind.

  Dragging her eyes away from his, after handing her cloak to a servant she proceeded to join her aunt and uncle to be received by Lady Willoughby, but she could not stem the wave of happiness that swept over her, making her forget the doubts that had assailed her during their time apart, driving out the anxieties. She yielded to the sudden temptation to let herself enjoy the evening, which already held the promise of enchantment.

  Full of vibrancy and a striking presence, Lady Willoughby was full of smiles as she received them. ‘Good evening, Mr Swinburn—Mrs Swinburn,’ she said in her deep, throaty voice, her eyes beaming a welcome to Rosa. ‘And Miss Ingram. How nice of you to honour us with your company. I am so delighted you were able to attend.’

  ‘Thank you for inviting us, Lady Willoughby,’ Uncle Michael said, inclining his head as he took his hostess’s outstretched gloved hand.

  * * *

  They climbed the wide staircase to the grand ballroom, with its highly polished parquet floor, Venetian mirrors and crystal chandeliers. Between the long French windows opening on to a balcony were huge urns on pedestals, bursting with a profusion of flowers. Elegant gilt chairs were placed at intervals along the walls. Footmen passed among the guests with salvers of champagne. Inside the supper room tables were laden with an amazing feast—a riot of plenty to be eaten off Sèvres plates and wine to be drunk from Venetian glasses. The whole was an elaborate display, exquisitely beautiful, for this ball being given by Lady Caroline Willoughby.

  Rosa was dazzled by the fashionable company, recognising several faces from her drives through the park and visits to private drawing rooms with Aunt Clara. She felt a sudden shyness on joining these distinguished, sophisticated members of society—this gay, rakish and exclusive set who graced the echelons of London society. Looking like a vision from heaven, she entered the ballroom on her uncle’s arm and almost immediately drew the attention of most of those present.

  Michael gently squeezed her hand in the crook of his arm, sensing her hesitance. ‘Don’t be nervous, my dear. Within no time at all your dance card will be full. But make sure you save a dance for me. I do declare this is going to be the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in a long time.’

  He was proved right. Within minutes Rosa’s dance card was almost full, although she was disappointed that there was no sign of William. Laughter and frivolity surrounded her and she found herself responding to it automatically. It was during her second dance, her partner a flamboyant young lord with an impudent grin, when she next saw William standing on the edge of the ballroom. She could feel his presence with every fibre of her being and an increasing comforting warmth suffused her. A strange sensation of security, of knowing he was close at hand, pleased her.

  * * *

  On his way to the ballroom William had been accosted by some friends and acquaintances, one after another eager, male and female, demanding his attention
, which had prevented him from seeking Rosa out. He had watched her take to the floor with her partner and his heart wrenched when he looked on her unforgettable face, so poised, so lovely that he ached to hold her. Her whole presence seemed to blaze across the ballroom at him, eliminating all else.

  Clara had watched him from the moment he had entered the ballroom. Countless young women vied for his attention all the time. Lord Ashurst, she noted, treated them with amused tolerance, for his attention was on only one female.

  ‘Lord Ashurst is here, Rosa,’ she murmured to her niece when she concluded her dance. ‘He looks at you a great deal.’

  Rosa glanced in his direction. She saw his head above the crowd and instinctively knew he was looking for her. When his eyes locked on to hers and he smiled, a lazy cocksure smile, she felt her heart turn over exactly as it always did when he looked at her. She saw the glow in his half-shuttered eyes kindle slowly into flame and deep within her she felt the answering stirrings of longing, a longing to feel the tormenting sweetness of his embrace and the stormy passion of his kiss.

  She watched the tall, daunting, devastatingly handsome man head in her direction with a feeling of anticipation, not in the least surprised when the throng parted before him like the Red Sea before Moses.

  After politely greeting her aunt and uncle, he settled his attention on Rosa. ‘As you do not appear to be taken for this dance, I wonder if I might—’

  ‘Oh—but my next dance is with Uncle Michael.’

  ‘I don’t think he will mind if I steal you away,’ he said, looking to her uncle for permission.

  Michael laughed. ‘You have my full permission, Lord Ashurst. You will make my niece a far better partner than I.’ He looked at his wife, holding out his hand. ‘Clara—shall we?’