Without looking at him, she took her place.
After the footmen efficiently set out appetising plates of assorted cheeses, cold meats, pickles, bread, fresh peas, and tarts, Michael dismissed both servants. They departed on silent feet, leaving Rosalyn wondering what to say next.
She stole a glance at Michael. He appeared to be contemplating his wine, a shock of dark hair falling over his brow. She swallowed, the cosy atmosphere suddenly too intimate.
He finally looked up at her, his face serious. ‘There is one more thing. About Lady Marchant. Despite what you may think, I was not meeting her that night. She was…’ A dull red colour rose up his neck.
‘Attacking you?’
‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose.’ If anything he looked even more disconcerted. He looked back down at his wine glass as if desperate to down the contents, then lifted his eyes to hers. ‘She is not my mistress.’
‘I see.’
‘Well?’
‘I was sorry I did not stay and offer my assistance.’
He appeared startled. ‘Were you?’
‘Yes, but you were managing quite well,’ she told him reassuringly. ‘I imagine it must happen quite often.’
‘No,’ he said curtly, then scowled.
She could see he was embarrassed. ‘I am sorry. I wished to tease you a little.’
A rueful look crept into his eye. He finally gave her a slight grin. ‘The whole evening was a damnable mess.’
‘Yes.’ His hesitant smile and the lock of hair falling over his forehead made him almost appear vulnerable. She quickly looked away, before she gave in to the urge to smooth the hair from his brow.
‘I hope you eat something,’ he said. ‘My cook will be on pins and needles wondering if the future Marchioness approves of his cooking. He’s rather temperamental. I should hate to have him threaten to leave if your plate comes back untouched.’
‘I had no idea a future Marchioness had so many responsibilities.’
He grinned at her, his face relaxing. ‘Unending, I’m afraid.’
She sighed. ‘I fear I’m ill suited to the role. I will most likely do something to disgrace you.’ She thought of the accomplished Miss Randall, the epitome of grace and poise, who would make a most admirable Marchioness.
‘You are doing splendidly.’
The warmth in his eyes brought a blush to her face. Completely disconcerted, she picked up her fork. ‘I…I had better eat, then. I should hate to be responsible for your losing your cook.’
She ate a few bites of chicken and then looked up to find Michael’s eyes fastened on her face. ‘You may tell me it is none of my business, if you’d like. Why haven’t you remarried?’
She started, spilling a drop of her wine. She was silent and then said after a moment, ‘I have not thought much about it. I suppose I don’t really care to marry again. I still miss John.’
‘So you were fortunate to have a love match?’
‘Yes,’ she said a little sadly, for it had been despite everything. ‘I was very much in love with my husband. I had read some of his work; my father very much admired him, but I had never met John until Father invited him for dinner one night. He was visiting a neighbour of ours. He came every day after that and after a fortnight we were engaged.’
‘I see. So you do not think you will fall in love again?’
‘No. I really don’t want to fall in love again.’
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Why not? Most people do.’
‘It is much too painful to love someone and have them leave you. I will not go through that again. No, I shall never fall in love with anyone,’ she said firmly.
He still watched her in a way that made her feel vulnerable. She said lightly, ‘Now it is my turn to ask a question. Why are you so reluctant to marry? Surely you will need to some day.’
‘So I have been informed.’
‘You have not answered my question.’
‘Very well. I’ll tell you. I have yet to find a woman I want to marry.’
‘But is it so difficult? I am certain you have had many ready to fall at your feet.’
‘Yes. But I don’t necessarily want someone at my feet.’ He smiled slightly. ‘I don’t have any particular set of qualities. I suppose I have always hoped I would meet someone the way you met Sir John and know I wanted to marry her.’
She eyed him with surprise. She never would have guessed he was a romantic. ‘You want to fall in love,’ she said gently.
‘I suppose you think that is quite ridiculous?’
‘No, it is not. But even love does not ensure happiness. Sometimes two people can love each other and still live as strangers.’
‘Is that what happened in your marriage?’
The penetrating look in his eyes scared her. She had never talked about the reality of her marriage with anyone.
She started to deny it, but found she could not lie to him. ‘His work was his true passion, and I cannot blame him for that. I knew when I first met John that it meant everything to him. I had never known anyone with such dedication. That was one of the things I admired most about him. But I thought there would be more time for us. I expected too much from him and it made us both miserable. I was not the wife he needed.’
‘Perhaps you expected too much from a man such as Sir John, but you can hardly be faulted. I attended one of his lectures once. He was brilliant. But I could see, even in that short time, how single-minded he was in his purpose. It would be difficult for such a man to give much of himself to anyone. Perhaps he was not the husband you needed.’
His words stung. She had told herself that John had been the only man for her, from the first night she saw him, so handsome and fair and cool, sitting across from her at her parents’ dining table. She had fallen in love with him then; he resembled her girlish dreams of a romantic knight. All her mother’s cautions against marrying a man so much older had gone over her head. And even in their four years of marriage, as she felt her dreams fade away, she had persisted in her belief that any unhappiness she experienced was from her own foolish desires. It had never occurred to her, until now, that she had may have been wrong.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She set her wine glass down and looked away.
‘Rosalyn, I am sorry.’ His voice was rough.
She stood up, only to find him in front of her.
His arms came around her, pulling her to his chest. She could not help the tears that coursed down her cheeks on to his coat. His comforting hand stroked her hair. She struggled to gain control of her emotions before she made a complete cake of herself. But it was difficult to pull away from the safe haven of his embrace. No one had held her in such security for years.
But her need for comfort was rapidly overpowered by her awareness of him. His scent was clean and masculine. The strong beat of his heart sounded in her ear. The feel of his hard, muscled body against hers was causing a warm languid sensation in the pit of her being. She pulled abruptly away from him.
‘You must think I am a veritable watering-pot,’ she said. ‘I…I hate to cry. It is just with…James…I am so worried…and Fairchilde…and…’ She swiped futilely at her eyes.
He lifted her chin and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. ‘Don’t worry so much. I’ll find James for you. And you’ll both be safe from Fairchilde, I promise you.’
‘Oh, Michael…’ Tears sprang to her eyes again.
‘Don’t cry,’ he said roughly.
‘No.’ She pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief he pressed into her hands. ‘I am fine.’
Trying to clear her head, Rosalyn glance up at the clock on the mantelpiece.
‘Oh, no! I had no idea of the time!’
‘Is there a problem? You don’t turn into a pumpkin or some such thing, do you?’
‘That was only the coach,’ she said distractedly. She stood up. ‘I have been with you over two hours.’
‘I see. You are limited
as to the amount of time you can spend in my company. An hour at the most?’ He watched her with a careful expression.
‘It is not that. I do not think it is very proper of me, and we are here alone. Not that you…’ She stumbled to a halt, not certain what to say.
His face relaxed. ‘Very well. Although our betrothal and your widowhood allows us to stretch the bounds of propriety.’ He set his wineglass on the table near the fire. ‘I’ll call for the carriage and escort you home.’
‘That is not necessary.’ She wasn’t certain if she wanted to be shut up with him in a carriage, even for only a short distance. Her emotions were too close to the surface, too connected to him.
‘I want to do it.’
He helped her on with her pelisse and then picked up the box with her locket. ‘By the way, I’ll return the rest of your jewellery to you.’
She made a helpless gesture. ‘Thank you. I…I will pay you. I still have the money. Of course, I must give it to you for Fairchilde.’ But then she would still owe him. Perhaps she could get another advance on her allowance.
‘I don’t want your money,’ he said coolly.
‘But…’
He shot her a quelling look. ‘The subject is beginning to bore me, my dear.’
They rode to her home in silence. The rain had not abated, if anything it was worse. He hurried her up the steps. Mrs Harrod opened the door, and Michael followed Rosalyn into the hallway.
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘I don’t suppose we are going to ride in the park today?’
His mouth quirked. ‘I’m not so much of a taskmaster I’d force you ride in a flood. Will you be at Lady Lavenham’s tonight?’
‘Yes. With my grandmother.’
‘If we are seen there engaged in amicable conversation, all rumours of a quarrel should be put to rest. However, I hope if you change your mind, you’ll let me know before I show up. I have no desire to listen to her daughters mutilate various pieces of music for a lost cause.’
‘Michael! What a dreadful thing to say!’
He grinned, unabashed. ‘But true. You’ll see for yourself.’ He took her hand, raising it to his lips. ‘Until tonight, Rosalyn.’
A shock ran through her at the light pressure. She managed to smile. ‘Thank you for the luncheon, and for everything else.’
‘Of course.’ He stared down at her, looking rather hesitant. ‘Caroline is having a houseparty over the weekend. She said she will send you an invitation. Will you come?’
‘I…I had planned to. I received the invitation today.’
He gave her a brief smile. ‘Good.’ He departed.
Rosalyn went to her bedchamber, and sat down on her bed. She lifted the locket from its box, staring down at the beloved, familiar piece. Instead of thinking of her mother every time she saw it, she would now think of him.
Chapter Twelve
Rosalyn peered out the window as the coach rounded the final bend of the lane that led to Longburne Hall. She fought back the bout of nervousness assailing her at the first glimpse of Lord Hartman’s primary seat. Certainly it was a lovely house. Built of mellow red brick, it sat in the midst of a large park as if growing there. Clumps of trees surrounded the park. The green, rolling hills in the distance made her think of the peaceful countryside around Meryton.
She settled back in the coach. For once in this betrothal she wished her grandmother was close by. But no, Lady Carlyn had declined the invitation, saying she was certain Rosalyn would do well to have a little time alone with Michael’s family. ‘After all, they will be your family, dear. I won’t always be around to guide you.’ Apparently she decided Rosalyn was unlikely to bolt surrounded by his family.
Perhaps she could avoid spending too much time alone with him. After that day in his home, where she had made a fool of herself by crying all over his coat, and forcing him to act as her knight-errant, she had tried to conduct herself with as much dignity as possible. Unfortunately, his very nearness made her shaky as if she was coming down with some illness. But perhaps he would spend most of his time shooting and riding and staying up all night playing cards as men usually did at house parties.
‘How pretty it is,’ Helena Randall said, breaking into her thoughts. Helena, Rosalyn, and Caroline had shared a coach on the three-hour trip from town. ‘I do look forward to leaving London for a few days. ’Twas very kind of you to invite me.’
‘I thought you might like a respite from all your suitors. However, I fear I could not exclude all of them,’ Caroline said with a wan smile. She had grown increasingly pale as the journey progressed and spoken less and less. Rosalyn worried she had been taken ill, but Caroline insisted she was fine.
Helena sighed. ‘I must admit I never knew a London Season could be so tedious. I sometimes think I will say something quite…quite rude if I hear one more compliment on my violet blue eyes! I wish for once to have a sensible conversation!’
The coach entered the carriage sweep, hooves clattering on the paving stones. Liveried footmen sprung out of nowhere to fling the doors open, then helped the three ladies descend to the walk in front of the house. Rosalyn paused and stared up at the house. Four shallow steps led to a terrace in front of the long windows.
Rosalyn followed the others up the steps, feeling hot and sticky in her carriage dress, and waited by one of the columns flanking the entrance as the other carriages arrived. One carried Lady Spence, Elizabeth Markham and her mother, and Miss Randall’s nearly deaf great-aunt. The other chaise carried Caroline’s sister-in-law, her husband and an enormous number of trunks and bandboxes.
The other men had decided to ride and now stood by their heated mounts. The riders fared no better: beads of perspiration covered their foreheads, and the fair Lord Brighton’s face had turned an alarming red. Charles was mopping his brow with a handkerchief. Only Michael appeared comfortable. Some time during the trip he had removed his riding coat. Rosalyn watched him retrieve it from Lady Spence and shrugged himself into it. He handed his big bay over to a groom and headed for the house.
Rosalyn turned, and hurried through the portico, wanting to avoid him. Ever since that afternoon with him, his very nearness made her edgy.
Caroline appeared next to her. ‘Rosalyn, are you well? You looked rather odd for a moment.’
‘I feel very well. It was nothing at all.’ She looked at Caroline’s pale face. ‘But I fear you are the one who is ill. You were so quiet on the journey. Are you certain nothing is wrong?’
Caroline gave a little laugh. ‘Oh, no. It is just…’ She took Rosalyn’s arm. ‘I am certain I will be better now that we are here.’
‘Perhaps you should rest for a bit.’
‘You are sweet to worry. It is nothing at all.’
‘Rosalyn is right. You should go to your chamber,’ Lady Spence interrupted. ‘I will take care of your guests.’
Caroline turned to Rosalyn. ‘Will you come with me?’
‘Of course.’
They stepped around Caroline’s sister-in law, Lady Cummings, who was engaged in a heated discussion with the housekeeper.
She followed Caroline up the curved staircase, with its elaborate wrought-iron railing, to the first floor and then down a long corridor. Caroline halted in front of one of the doors. ‘I must show you your room.’
‘I think we should go to your room first.’
‘I am feeling much better. Come and see.’
Rosalyn stepped inside the room. ‘How lovely!’ The panelled walls were a soft shade of apricot. A light breeze fluttered the muslin curtains and through them, she caught a glimpse of blue sky and green hills.
‘I instantly thought of this room for you. It reminds me of you. It will be yours until you marry, and then I imagine Michael will want you next to him.’
Rosalyn could not control the blush that stained her face. Whatever ailed her? One would think she were a young virginal miss who coloured at the mere mention of the marriage bed, not a widow. Besides, she was not even planning
to marry Michael.
Unfortunately, Caroline never missed a thing, particularly when it came to romance. She hugged Rosalyn and laughed. ‘You are still so shy when it comes to my brother! It is delightful and one of the reasons I like you so well! How refreshing for all of us after all the women who have thrown themselves at him.’
She plopped down on the damask bedcover and patted the place beside her. Rosalyn sat.
The sparkle had returned to Caroline’s eyes. ‘And I never thought to see him in love! It has quite changed him. He actually seems quite human now! I sometime tease him about being in love and he turns red.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Rosalyn said
‘Oh, no! It is true.’ She gave Rosalyn another smile. ‘And I have something else I wanted to tell you. Only Aunt Margaret knows and Giles.’ A slight blush stained her cheeks. ‘I…I am increasing.’
‘Oh, Caroline! How wonderful!’ This time, Rosalyn hugged her and then released her, catching Caroline’s hands. ‘No wonder you looked so awful in the coach. That must have been dreadful with all the jostling!’
‘Well, yes. At least I didn’t cast up my accounts.’
Rosalyn laughed. ‘Very true. But I do think you should rest.’
Caroline rose from the bed. ‘And so should you. After that, we will have luncheon. You would think I wouldn’t want to eat, but sometimes I feel so ravenous!’ She gave Rosalyn a fond smile. ‘I will send my maid to help you undress.’
After Caroline departed, Rosalyn sat back on the bed. Oh, why must his family be so delighted with her? And they were so kind, so pleased she was to be part of their family. Rosalyn had always wanted a sister to confide in and love, and she could think of no one she would rather have than Caroline.
Why couldn’t Michael remain the cynical, uncaring lord, pursuing other women and neglecting his fiancée? Then it would appear she had a valid reason for jilting him. They would undoubtedly think her the most callous woman alive when she broke off the engagement, particularly if he still maintained this pretence of caring for her.
She never considered it might not be a pretence at all.
The soft voice of the maid roused Rosalyn from a drugged sleep.
A Bargain With Fate Page 14