“It appears Lord Thrup wishes to escape his life, as well,” Holden said in a loud whisper. “Do all men feel the need to drink as we do? Perhaps we are not all that different from the previous generation after all.” He chuckled as if to say he was jesting, but the idea that this was true was much more unnerving than he cared to admit.
David did not see the humor in his words whatsoever, and he reared back as if Holden had offended him. “Do you truly need to ask such a question? Of course men must escape. We are the ones who provide for the family, and do we receive our due thanks? Not at all. I do not expect my wife to understand me. All she must do is do as I please.”
“Are you saying you plan to marry soon?” Holden teased, knowing full well his friend would rather remain a bachelor if he was given half the chance.
“Hardly,” David said with a snort. “Although I am getting far too old to remain unmarried for too much longer. Father has been reminding me of that fact quite a bit as of late.”
Holden rolled his eyes. “Mine has been just as annoying,” he said. “Although, there is a benefit of courting Miss Skylark.”
David signaled to the barkeep for new drinks. “And what is that?”
“An advance on my inheritance if you can believe that. My father believes Miss Skylark has somehow changed me, and he told me today that, if I am able to court her, that will be my reward. He did not mention I had to marry her, thank heavens.” He laughed at his father’s shortsightedness.
“I wish your father was mine,” David said with a grimace. He glanced at Lord Thrup. “Nevertheless, it does not matter. I will ask to court Miss Thrup or my father will disown me outright. No promises of incentives from that man.”
“Caroline Thrup?” Holden asked in shock. “You have never shown any interest in the woman before. Was it because I asked you to intervene at the party that made you change your mind?”
David roared with laughter.
“And what do you find so humorous?”
“You, Bradshaw,” David said as the barkeep placed new glasses on the table before them and removed the old. “Only you would believe that you can change the mind of another.” He wagged a finger at Holden. “Do not look at me like that, my friend. I did not mean it as an insult. No, it had little to do with you. I am simply tired of bickering with my father. It is about time I figured out what I want in life, and by considering what I want, I came to the conclusion I must court her in order to receive it.”
Holden took a sip of his brandy before realizing that he saw more than one glass before him. How many had he drunk thus far tonight? He shrugged. It did not matter; he had his father’s blessing, so he pushed away any concern before it took hold and brought down his mood. “I admit I am a bit confused. Why do you hope to court her?”
David snorted as he glanced toward the man at the bar. “Her father is a bumbling fool, but he has many business connections. If I do eventually marry the woman, I would then be able to increase my investments through him. He has no heir, after all.”
“Many women exist with fathers in the same position. Miss Thrup is no different from them.”
“Ah, but that is where you are wrong,” David said, his words slurring now. “Miss Thrup is desperate for attention—any attention. I see the same in your Miss Skylark, actually. Both women are quite pedestrian, and although they are a pleasure to look at, they have yet to attract a man of worth, which says a lot about them. They will be doomed to marry some drab fool like Parkinson.”
Holden nodded. Gunther Parkinson was a year older than he and David and often spent his days reading. They had even caught him reciting poetry of all things! If a man could be a wallflower, Parkinson would be the showpiece, the doltish sap.
“We are nothing like Parkinson,” Holden said.
David sighed. “It is a simple matter, Bradshaw. We are by far the handsomest and most dashing men in all of Rumsbury, are we not?”
Holden could not argue that fact. “We are.”
“Miss Skylark and Miss Thrup must know that their futures lie with men such as Parkinson. Now, if we are the ones to court them, they will feel honored that men such as we have chosen them. In that, they will be so desperate to keep us they will not refuse whatever we request of them.”
“Request?” Holden asked, downing the rest of his brandy. “What request? To kiss them?”
David laughed. “Not just kiss but to take them to our beds, of course. They are the type of women who will allow us to pursue whatever we wish once we are married, and with their approval, no less.”
This time it was Holden’s turn to laugh. “No woman would ever agree to such an arrangement. At least not with their knowledge beforehand. Why do you think most men keep secret what they do when they are away from home?”
David gave him a nod of acquiescence. “That is true, but is that not the ways of old? You must remember that a new era is upon us, an era where women such as Miss Thrup have been made more aware of the things men do. Yet, we must be certain they will not make a fuss about it even when they are aware of what we do. My plan is to prove a man can marry and still retain his dalliances, all with his wife’s approval.”
“And how will you do that?” Holden asked. “Will she not refuse to marry you?”
“Ah, but that is where the genius of my plan comes into play,” David said with a chuckle. “You see, I will court her and then take her to my bed. If she speaks of marriage, as women often do, I will then explain my expectations to her. If she agrees, then I will marry her.” He shrugged and drank down the remainder of his brandy. “If not, I will continue on to the next woman until I find one who sees the benefit of my way of thinking.”
Holden was uncertain what to think of this tactic. He had no true feelings for Miss Thrup, or for Miss Skylark for that matter. Granted, she annoyed him no end, but the idea of taking a gentlewoman to bed through trickery did not sit well with him. To use a woman for one’s own pleasure and think nothing of dismissing her did not seem right, not when said woman was not aware of the agreement beforehand. Every woman he had bedded, be she of the aristocracy or the lower class, had come to him willingly. Never had he tricked a woman to get what he wanted.
“It appears you are indeed stuck in the ways of old,” David said. “I knew telling you my plan would upset you. Perhaps you should spend time with Parkinson so you may read poetry to Miss Skylark rather than fill your needs.”
Holden’s temper flared. “I am not a weak man,” he growled. “And Miss Skylark is a handsome woman, well worthy of my bedchamber. In fact, I will have her there soon enough.”
As soon as the words left his lips, shame washed over him. He wanted to kiss the woman, that much was true, but he could not imagine taking it any further without her unmitigated consent. However, David was a good friend, and Holden could not allow the man to think him weak.
David smiled as he placed a few coins on the table. “I will be hosting a party next month. Father will be out of town on business, and my guest rooms will be vacant. Do you catch my meaning?”
Holden nodded. “I do,” he said as he forced a smile on his lips. What David planned was terrible, yet Holden could say nothing without demeaning himself. He continued to feign interest in what the man had to say about Miss Thrup, all the while wondering if he could truly go through with such a dare.
Chapter Eight
Each passing day since the discovery of the letters left Rose in uncertainty. She had no doubts that the Rachel mentioned in the letters was her mother, but had she interpreted correctly the journal entry? Had Lord Lambert lusted after her mother? If so, how far had that lust progressed? And the most important question of all, was Rose the result of that infidelity? The idea was horrifying.
Loss and confusion plagued her over the following days. Her father had been a hero, a soldier who had given his life for love and country. Thus, her worry over Lord Lambert being her father was unfounded. Yet, she could not shake the feeling of impending doom that had settled on her since finding t
he pieces of writing.
“What is bothering you, my dear?”
Rose looked up from the vanity table to see her aunt standing in the doorway. She had been so lost in thought, she had not heard the woman enter.
“You have been very quiet the last few days. Are you unwell?” Aunt Eleanor gave her a knowing smile. “Or perhaps it is merely nervous excitement about Mr. Bradshaw calling?”
Rose did not want to worry her aunt unnecessarily. She had no idea what any of it truly meant and therefore decided to keep what she had learned to herself. There was no reason to upset the woman who had opened her home to her.
“Yes, I do find myself feeling a bit nervous. I do not wish to embarrass you—or myself.” This was the truth, even if it was not the full truth. However, her stomach refused to settle. Perhaps a few questions would not hurt. “Did you know my father?”
Her aunt shook her head. “I am afraid I never had the pleasure of meeting the man.” She walked over, picked up the brush from the table, and began running it through Rose’s hair. “Your mother spoke highly of him, but I cannot add more to what your mother has already told you.”
“Why did you and Mother stop speaking to one another? Mother always spoke highly of you but claimed you were busy and had little time for writing.”
Replacing the brush, her aunt chose two ribbons from a small box and smiled. “Raising my children took up a great deal of my time, and your mother was occupied with caring for you and your brother. We simply grew apart, which you will learn happens to everyone. It does not happen out of lack of caring for each other but rather from placing our attention on other duties.
“Lord Lambert and Mother were close friends at one time, were they not?”
Her aunt tied the last ribbon and then placed her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “You are a beautiful woman who has elegance, intelligence and a host of other admirable qualities. If I were you, I would not concern yourself with old people and their associations. Your sights should be set on the gentleman who will be calling today.”
Rose could not help but giggle. Perhaps her aunt was right. Would knowing such things change what took place today? Not at all. Granted, she had unanswered questions, but she could wait to learn their answers.
Plus, there was a good chance she had misinterpreted what she had read. Yes, that was it. She had simply mixed up the facts, which led her to draw conclusions that were untrue.
“I agree,” Rose said with a smile as she rose from the seat. “I am far too nosy for my own good.”
Her aunt chuckled as she helped Rose don a glove. “There is no harm in asking questions, but it is not prudent to speak of the dead. They cannot either confirm or deny what we believe.” She pulled the second glove up to Rose’s elbow and took a step back. “There. What do you think?”
Rose stood before the standing mirror and smiled. Her hair had been neatly tied with ribbons that matched her purple dress, and her gloves matched the white lace on the neck and short puffy sleeves. “I doubt my hair has ever looked so nice,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome,” her aunt replied. She glanced at the bedroom door and frowned. “Now, where is Caroline?”
No sooner than Aunt Eleanor said the words than Caroline entered the room, proudly showing off her new bright yellow dress. “Oh, Rose,” she gasped, “you look wonderful!”
Rose felt her cheeks heat significantly. “You are too kind,” she said. “And your dress is perfect.”
Aunt Eleanor clicked her tongue. “You two can remain here and compliment each other or go to the drawing room and await the arrival of Mr. Bradshaw.” The twinkle in her eye belied the harshness of her tone.”
Rose followed Caroline and Aunt Eleanor into the hallway, and the trio made their way to the drawing room.
“I will be in the study if you need me,” Aunt Eleanor said before continuing down the hall.
Caroline closed the door behind her and hurried to the window. She motioned for Rose to join her. Why did the woman seem nervous?
“What is wrong?” Rose asked.
Caroline grinned. “There is nothing wrong,” she replied. “I received a letter from Mr. Banner today.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a folded parchment, and handed it to Rose.
Rose unfolded the page.
Dear Miss Thrup,
It was a great privilege to engage in conversation with you at the party given by Lord Bradshaw. I would like to send a card soon requesting permission to call on you. It is my hope that you will accept.
Sincerely,
David Banner
Rose smiled and hugged Caroline. “You have caught the eye of a very handsome and intelligent man,” she said. “For him to send this letter is a testament to that fact.”
Caroline’s cheeks went pink, and she nodded. “I thought I would become a spinster,” she said with a smile. “Now one of the most eligible men wishes to call on me! This is truly a special day.”
“That it is,” Rose replied, pleased for her friend. “You see? You remained a lady just as I suggested, and as promised, Mr. Banner has written you a fine letter.”
“You were so right,” Caroline said. “I used to follow Juliet’s advice, but I now realize that you and Annabel were the ones who knew the truth.”
“Was Annabel a good friend, as well?” Rose knew very little about the woman and found that she wished to know more seeing as how they shared viewpoints.
“Most certainly,” Caroline replied with a firm nod. “She met her husband at one of my parties.” She said this with pride, as if her party had been the cause of the couple falling in love. “When she married, I thought I had lost the last of my friends until you arrived. I must say that, since you have been here at Scarlett Hall, I feel as if we have known one another for years. It seems as if you have always been a part of Rumsbury and not simply a newcomer.”
Rose laughed. “I feel very much the same. And to think I was almost born here.” She clamped her mouth shut, wishing she could take back the words.”
“I did not realize that you had been to Rumsbury before.”
“Well, no, I have not, but my mother lived here for many years. Perhaps you know her. Lady Rachel Prescott?”
Caroline’s face paled and her jaw fell open.
“What is it?” Rachel asked, although she was uncertain if she wanted the woman to tell her. “What do you know?”
Caroline shook her head. “It is not wise to gossip,” she whispered. Caroline rarely whispered. “I have made a pledge to stop spreading tales. Plus, I do not wish to upset you or speak ill of your mother.”
Desperation filled Rose. She could not push away the curiosity that the writings she found in the book on hunting had created. And no matter how much she thought she did not need to know the truth, the reality was that she indeed had to know.
“Please,” she said, pulling at Caroline’s arm, “we are friends and have shared so many secrets. You can tell me.” The sounds of footsteps in the hall had her giving Caroline a pleading look.
Caroline lowered her voice further and said, “Your mother left Rumsbury pregnant, and although no one knew who the father was, she was seen often in the company of Lord Lambert himself.”
***
“Miss Skylark, would you like to attend?”
Rose stared at Mr. Bradshaw before her mind made sense of his words. They had been sitting in the drawing room for less than an hour, and she had struggled to maintain her attention on the conversation the entire time. She now regretted insisting that Caroline tell her what she knew, for now she could think of nothing else. Poor Mr. Bradshaw must have thought her an imbecile.
“My apologies,” Rose replied. “Attend what?” She wanted to run from the room and hide; this had not been the first time she had asked him to repeat himself.
“My good friend, Mr. Banner, is having a party in three weeks. I was hoping you are attending. I am certain Mr. Banner will be inviting Miss Thrup, as well.” He turned to Caroli
ne. “Will you accept?”
“Oh, yes,” Caroline said with a fervent nod. “I would very much enjoy a party.”
Rose forced a smile. The last thing she wanted was to attend a social event at the moment, but upon seeing the look of anticipation on Mr. Bradshaw’s face—and the beseeching look on that of Caroline—she thought it best to accept. Perhaps it would do her good; spending her days fretting over a relationship that she had no evidence even existed was a poor use of her time. “I look forward to attending,” she said. “It was kind of Mr. Banner to consider me for his guest list.”
Mr. Bradshaw laughed. “It was because I told him to. David and I have been friends for a very long time. Thankfully, the man heeds my advice or he would be a recluse. Or a drab like Gunther Parkinson.”
Rose thought the man’s smugness unappealing. “And who is Gunther Parkinson? Is he a friend of yours?”
“Hardly,” Mr. Bradshaw said with a snort. “Miss Thrup may be able to tell you more than I, but I will say this. The man spends a good amount of time drawing pictures of butterflies of all things. No man worth his salt would use his time in such a manner. I believe it to be a sign of madness.”
Either the man’s attitude or her concern for who her father was nettled her, but whichever it was, it made her hackles rise.
“Mr. Parkinson sounds like a gentleman who appreciates both art and nature. Perhaps this is how he expresses that appreciation.” She had not meant her tone to be so sharp, but she could do nothing to stop it. “He is not drab—nor mad—simply because he enjoys expressing himself in art. Plus, it takes a special type of man to appreciate nature. I find such accusations to be beneath you.”
When she finished, the reality of her words hit her and humiliation washed over her. No gentlewoman spoke so sharply to a peer, and certainly not to a man destined to be a baron. Even Caroline’s surprised expression told her that she had spoken out of turn.
“My apologies, Mr. Bradshaw,” she said with a sigh as she blinked back tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. “I did not mean to speak so rudely.”
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