Baroness

by Susan May Warren

  Presley grinned, a hunger in her expression, and leaned back into her seat. “Do tell.”

  Lilly didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed that Presley would be joining them. Of course, she’d needed her for her plans, and Lilly didn’t exactly hope to be alone with Rennie, but Presley had the eyes of a minx, always on him, and it raked into her memory Presley’s words that night at La Rotonde.

  You’re too nice, Lilly.

  Not anymore. She’d run away with her…well, lover wasn’t the term. But perhaps simply run away. She didn’t have to answer to anyone, not anymore.

  “It was Rosie’s plan, really,” Lilly said. “Although Rennie caught on fast.”

  “Especially when I drove up to fetch her two days ago and she was waiting for me at the door.”

  “I knew if he rang, Uncle Bennett would find him and send him away for good. So I waited for him and snuck out. I told him to go, but gave him a note that explained exactly how we’d get away.”

  “And?”

  “The scheme went off without a hitch. Right now, I’m supposed to be at Jardin des Tuileries with Rosie and my nephew Finn, floating one of his toy boats in the pond.” She curled her hand around Rennie’s arm. “We’ve been taking him there for the past three days, with Aunt Jinx or Amelia. Only today, we took him alone. Rennie met me at the edge of the park.”

  “I hope everything I picked out for you fits.”

  “Thank you, Presley. I will secure my own wardrobe when I get to Spain.”

  “I have no use for the dresses anymore. You may keep them.” Presley gave her a wink. “It gives me an excuse to order more.”

  “All the same, I have my allowance. I’ll manage.”

  “Suit yourself,” Presley said.

  “So we’re all here, then,” said a voice in the doorway.

  Presley looked past her, toward the opened door. “Hello, Hem. Are you all settled?”

  “Mike is here, and Bob is ever the pompous mule.” Hem was a handsome man, Lilly supposed, a rumpled, no-nonsense way about him, in his patched tweed jacket, his canvas pants and tennis shoes. He wore his hair long and irreverently mussed, and every time he looked at her, it seemed he might be probing for something deeper. She felt childish and naked around him, and couldn’t shake the feeling of his disdain.

  “Hem is just upset that Bob’s footing the cost of the trip for him,” Rennie said. “Or should I say, Bob’s wife, Annie, has paid them both to jaunt off and leave her to her own devices in Paris. Oh, the ails of being married to an heiress.”

  Lilly shot him a look.

  Presley, however, picked up the explanation. “Annie’s father is in shipping in England and possibly could purchase this entire train. Which Hem hates, don’t you?”

  “Bob needs her cash to run Contact Editions, his new press,” Hem said without emotion. “And if I write for him, then I write for her.”

  “And Hem just can’t bear being bought by the establishment,” Rennie said.

  Hem made a noise, and Lilly shifted in her seat, hoping he hadn’t heard her comment about her allowance. “I didn’t know you were a writer,” she said.

  “If you call holing up in a hotel garret every day scribbling out poetry—”

  “That’s enough, Rennie. You’re only here because we need another hand at bridge. I didn’t realize you were bringing your kid sister with you, however.”

  Lilly couldn’t quite figure out if Hem was kidding or not, but his words slicked through her like acid.

  Rennie slipped his hand into hers. “He’s just being surly because Hadley’s at home, too sick with his child to tag along. Leave her alone, Hem.” He glared at the man, and Lilly tucked close to Rennie, a surge of warmth at his defense.

  Still, she lifted her chin, met Hem’s gaze, inviting his dark eyes to challenge her.

  He considered her for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “Don’t mind me. I am surly. The bulls will cheer us all up. There’s nothing better than drama, tragedy, and some danger to brighten a man’s spirit.” Then he winked at her, and she didn’t know what to make of it as he moved away.

  The train lurched, and she caught her breath. Rennie tightened her hand in his.

  “Men are such children,” Presley said. “A woman has to know how to handle them. It can be so fatiguing. Hadley is lucky to be rid of him for a few days.” The sun hung low on the horizon, a golden wash of light upon the city. Long shadows draped across the platform like fingers, groping for the train. But it moved forward, away from them, and soon left the sunlight behind. All that remained was the orange glow of twilight on the leather seats and the fire of adventure before her.

  “I’m so proud of you, Lilly,” Rennie said, putting his arm around her, pulling her back against himself. “You surprised me, yet again.”

  “Why? Didn’t you think I’d come?”

  He pressed a kiss to her head. “It’s just that bullfighting can be a rather…brutal sport. But perhaps you are as brave as you profess.”

  “But she’s not here for the bullfighting, not really, are you, pet? You’ve come for the adventure of running away, haven’t you?” Presley inhaled on her cigarette, glanced at Lilly, then turned her gaze on Rennie. “Spain, after all, can be quite the life-changing experience.”

  Behind her, she felt Rennie tense.

  She frowned at Presley as the woman held her gaze, blowing out a stream of smoke. “In fact, Spain can turn a girl into a woman, if she has the courage.” She winked, then turned away and stared out the window as they left Paris behind.

  * * * * *

  Rosie tried not to think of the unpardonable sin she’d committed and focused on Finn and his triumphant smile as he chased the mallards around the pond at Jardin des Tuileries. She kept glancing at the statue of Rommende, the outstretched wings of Pegasus, warmth curling through her, remembering Dash’s whispers of apology.

  Yes, it was worth it. And Lilly wouldn’t get far, anyway. She’d enjoy a day or two of freedom, and then Oliver would track her down and rescue her from Rennie.

  How difficult could it possibly be to find her at the bullfights in Pamplona? And if it took two days or more, all the better.

  Rosie and Dash would be long gone by then.

  “Can I put my boat in?” Finn ran up to her, fetching the wooden sailboat he’d brought to float in the pond. The wind picked up his hat, nearly blew it off his head, and he grabbed it, stowing it in her lap.

  “Hang onto the string, Finn. You don’t want it floating away.”

  She glanced again at the statue. Dash had promised, through Blanche, to meet her here, finally, and it took no small amount of conniving to assure her mother that she and Lilly would keep Finn safe, no escort necessary. Jinx hovered over her youngest son like he might be made of glass.

  “Rothie, look at my boat!” Finn pointed to the schooner as it drifted from shore. He grinned, pushing his tongue through the gap between his front teeth. With the sun in his blond hair and with his blue eyes, he appeared a miniature version of Jack, so much joy in his smile she could lose herself in it. Finn was the balm that soothed their cracked hearts, and with him Rosie felt the world drop away. To Finn, she didn’t have to be anyone—not a flapper, or an heiress—just Rothie, Finn’s sister.

  However, she still couldn’t wipe the sound of her mother’s sobs from her mind. She’d rolled over, held her mother as her grief turned Rosie brittle. She couldn’t bear to feel this grief, not anymore.

  Dash could make her forget it all.

  Another gust of wind lifted Finn’s straw hat from her hands and tumbled it across the grass. “Oh!” She got up, glanced at Finn, then took off after the hat, chasing it as it rolled away from her.

  “I’ll get it!” Finn said, and started toward her, dropping the string that tethered him to his boat.

  “Stay there, Finn!” she said, and turned back to find the hat.

  She plowed into its rescuer. “Oh!”

  The man caught her before she took them
both down, one arm wrapped around her waist as he stepped back to absorb her weight.

  “I’m so sorry!” She disentangled herself from him and looked up.

  His blue eyes could stop her heart. They looked down at her, a smile in them, as if amused. She swallowed, tried to find her voice.

  He beat her to it. “Is this yours?”

  “It’s my little brother’s.” She glanced back to where Finn had now hunkered down on the shore and begun unlacing his shoes. “Finn, what are you doing?”

  “My boat. The string got away from me!”

  “Oh dear.” She took the hat from the man. “I need to rescue his boat.”

  “I don’t think so,” the man said, and strode toward Finn. “Stay here, sailor.” He slipped out of his shoes.

  “Oh no, sir, please—”

  But he shucked off his socks then rolled up his pant legs before stepping into the pond.

  Rosie made a face. “Is it cold?”

  “Like ice,” he said, and glanced at her over his shoulder.

  Oh, he was handsome—she couldn’t help but notice that as he waded into the water after the loose string. Wide shoulders, a chiseled chin, aristocratic lines, dark-as-night hair that fell over his eyes. And an accent that sounded British. He reached out and snagged the end of the string then held it between two fingers as he reeled in the boat. Finally, he picked it up by its sail and trudged back to shore.

  She watched the water slough off his ankles and pool around his bare feet as he knelt in front of Finn and tied the end of the string around his wrist. “A sailor never loses control of his craft,” he said, then winked at Finn. “Let’s relaunch her.”

  He handed the boat to Finn, who set it back into the water. The sailboat drifted from shore.

  Rosie walked over and fitted Finn’s hat back on his head, running the strap under his chin. Then she turned to the man, now seated on the bench, drying off his feet with his socks before slipping them back on.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “What, and let your little brother lose his vessel? I think not.” He slipped on his shoes and stood up.

  Again, those eyes, and they had the power to render her silent. “Thank you for your gallant service,” she finally managed, and felt the fool. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “Fear not. I believe you might find a way.” Then he winked at her.

  She stood there, a strange warmth simmering through her. He extended his hand. “Rolfe Van Horne,” he said.

  “Rosie Worth,” she said.

  He smiled. “I know.”

  She stared at him, nonplussed. “What—”

  “Red!”

  She turned and spotted Dash coming toward her from the direction of the statue. How could she have missed him? “Dash,” she said, more surprise than enthusiasm in her voice. She cleared her throat, brightened. “I didn’t see you there!”

  “Clearly,” he said, and his gaze shot to the man next to her.

  “Nice to meet you,” Rolfe said, then nodded toward Dash.

  “Nice to meet—you—too….” But he had already turned his back to her and was walking away.

  Dash caught up to her. “Who was that?”

  “Some man who helped Finn get his boat back.” She turned to Finn. “You stay here on shore while I talk to Dash, okay, Finn?”

  He held up his arm, the one with the string attached. “I’m a sailor!”

  “Indeed you are, little man.” She turned to Dash, who still had his gaze on Van Horne. “Forget about him. I’m so glad to see you!” She slipped her arms around his waist, not caring that she might be making a spectacle.

  He closed his around her shoulders, but she felt stiffness in his response. “What’s this all about, Red? I show up at your house, and you won’t see me, and then Blanche sends me this cryptic note about meeting you in the garden.” He pushed her out to arm’s length. “I thought we were having fun.”

  She frowned. “It’s not what you think, Dash. My mother and stepfather came home the other night. They—they don’t want us to see each other.”

  He made a face. “Sounds about right. I wondered when the news from Page Six would find them.”

  Oh. “So it’s true?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “She says so. I don’t know.”

  Rosie stared at him, coldness sliding through her. “You…you slept with her?”

  “Rosie, come on, don’t be like that. I’m here with you, today.” He took her hand and tugged her down onto the bench. “Now, tell me how we’re going to sneak out and have some fun.” He traced a finger down her cheek.

  She swallowed back her hurt, forcing a smile. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.” She leaned into him and raised her chin. “How much did you miss me, Dash?”

  He pecked her nose. “Terribly. I’ve had no fun at all the last few nights. Tell me that you’ll find a way to come ’round with us tonight.”

  She fiddled with a button on his jacket. “What if you could have me all the time? Would you like that?”

  A dangerous smile tweaked his face. “What do you mean, Red?”

  She drew in a breath, tried not to rush. “Do you love me, Dash?”

  “Sure, darling. I love you lots.” But something sparked in his eyes.

  “Me too.” She couldn’t look at him. She pressed her hand against his chest. “Let’s elope.”

  He stilled under her touch. “Now, Red—”

  “I have an allowance, Dash, and we’ll be fine. Mother wouldn’t dare cut me off, and we can leave tonight if we have to. I have a plan.”

  He caught her hand on his chest, pulled it away. “Rosie—”

  “I know you need money. I can give that to you….”

  Dash sat up, scooted away. “Rosie, I’m my father’s only son. I promise you, I don’t need your money.” His tone had changed, added a chill.

  “Fine. Of course you don’t need my money. But…” She feared what she’d see in his eyes. “My mother wants to marry me off to some duke from Belgium. I want to be with you.” She looked at him then, and her heart died at his expression.

  “Rosie, I don’t want to marry you.” He drew in a breath.

  She held herself fast, willing her voice calm. “But you said—you said I was your inspiration.”

  “Oh, Red. Of course you are. Look at you. You’re a dish, doll, and you look good on my arm. But we’re just having fun. You’re my good-time girl. But I don’t want to get married. I’m sorry, I guess, if that hurts you.” He reached to touch her face. “Don’t blame me. You said you didn’t want to get married, if I recall.”

  She had said that. Because that’s what he’d wanted to hear.

  She pushed his hand away. “Finn!”

  “Red, don’t be like this. You know I like being with you. We have the whole summer—we’ll figure something out.”

  She marched over to Finn, began to drag his boat in.

  “Rothie! I want to stay.”

  “No, we’re going home, Finn. Our walk in the park is over.”

  Dash touched her on the arm, and she jerked away, losing her balance. She fell and hit the water, her hand sinking in to her elbow, the cold bracing upon her skin.

  “Let me help—”

  “Get away from me,” she hissed. “Just…get away.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “If that’s the way you want it. Good luck with your duke, Red.”

  “You swine.”

  Finn reached up and tried to help her out. He wore fear in his eyes as he glanced at Dash, who was backing away, shaking his head.

  Rosie climbed out, turned her back to him. Her eyes burned, and she sank down beside Finn. She began to tremble, her hand over her mouth. Her breaths began to shudder through her.

  No. No. She wouldn’t break down, not here, not—

  Finn put his arms around her neck, burying his face in her shoulder. “I love you, Rothie. Don’t cry.”

  She pulled him tight a
gainst herself, holding onto his tiny, strong body, so full of grace, and wept into his shoulder.

  It wasn’t until she had found herself again, mustered her composure, until she’d pulled the boat to shore, that she saw Rolfe Van Horne watching her from across the pond.

  She ignored him, gathered up Finn and his boat, took his hand, and trekked toward home, the sunset bleeding into the horizon.

  She should have known Dash would turn on her. Should have known he was just using her, that he didn’t truly love her.

  In fact, she’d never met a man who truly loved her. Her father hadn’t—not with the way he treated her, as if she were a reminder of his unfaithful wife. And Jack—well, if Jack truly cared for her, he would have never run away and left her. And Bennett—how could he possibly care for her after what her father did to the woman he loved? Besides, she wasn’t his daughter.

  She had Finn, of course, but he was too young to betray her.

  No, she shouldn’t expect anything from a man, except to use her for what she could give him.

  “Rothie, you’re hurting my hand.”

  She loosened her grip. “I’m sorry, Finley.” She stopped at the edge of the park, crouched down to face him. “Listen, let’s keep my…conversation with my friend a secret, okay?”

  “And your crying?”

  “That too.” She reached over, scrubbed dirt from his face with her thumb. “I’ll be fine. I was just sad.”

  “I’m sad when you’re sad,” he said, and looked like he might cry.

  “Thanks, Finn.”

  She stood up and took his hand. They crossed the street and headed down the boulevard. She bought a bouquet of peonies and drank in the smell.

  No, she’d never trust a man again. At least unless she had something to barter, something to keep his love.

  As she entered the house, she bent down to unbutton Finn’s jacket, take his hat. “Run and tell Mother we’re home.”

  “We’re in here.”

  Jinx sat in the parlor, her needlepoint on her lap. She looked up at Rosie then frowned. “Where’s Lilly?”

  Where was Lilly? She knew the question would come, but still, it stripped her. “Lilly?” she said, as if she’d never heard of her cousin before.

  Jinx set down her needlepoint. Stared at Rosie. Then, her voice dropped, realization in it. “Oh no, what have you done, Rosie?”