Only after Jago had left, storming from the room and swearing they would live to regret crossing him, did Rose fall into Bryce’s arms, knowing she was safe.
‘My brave girl,’ he said, kissing her.
‘Only so long as I have you.’
The wedding took place in the new year, Bryce oblivious to his mother’s continued and furious disapproval. ‘Rant as much as you like, Mama, I shall marry the woman I love with or without your blessing.’
‘Don’t imagine this marriage will make one scrap of difference to our opinion of her. The chit will never drive us out of Penver Court, nor oust me from my position as mistress of it.’
‘You are overdramatising, as always, Mother. I don’t believe Rose has asked you to leave. Nor will she. Can you not simply be pleased for me, just for once? I am a contented man.’
‘You’re a fool!’ Jago told him.
Following the confrontation in the parlour, the two brothers had rarely spoken a word to each other. Jago, in fact, had been notable by his absence, spending much of his time out of doors, riding or hunting.
‘And you are jealous.’
‘She’s tricked us all out of that inheritance. Now you’ve given her credibility by accepting that bastard of hers.’
‘I believe you were willing to do the same, if for a different reason.’
Rose was at last content, never happier. Bryce Tregowan was the love of her life and she could not envisage that life without him. Even more delicious, it was clear that he loved her too.
And if Lydia was seeking a solution to a problem she’d largely created herself, what was wrong with this one? Jago didn’t deserve to take control of Penver Court. He had no more rights to it than his brother, elder son or not. The estate belonged to Rosalind’s fine young son, Robbie Tregowan, who would one day take up his proper position. Until then, it was Rose’s task in life to protect that inheritance from those who would steal it. But unlike his greedy, selfish brother, Bryce, her darling husband-to-be, would never do such a thing.
The ceremony was held in the Tregowan chapel on a sunny day in late March with a scattering of snow frosting the lawns, and a pale sun bathing them in warmth and new hope. Rose looked stunning in a gown of pearl-white satin, with a veil of old lace. The entire ensemble belonged to Lydia, no doubt one of several she owned.
‘Let’s hope it brings you better luck than it did me,’ she’d caustically remarked as Rose had delightedly accepted the offer.
Rose chose not to wear the satin gloves as she did not relish the fuss of having to remove them when the moment came for Bryce to slip the wedding ring on to her finger. The final touch was a small bouquet of cherry blossom picked out with snowdrops and lily of the valley.
‘You have never looked more beautiful,’ he told her, as he took her hand at the altar.
Then the familiar words were being recited to her and she was repeating them in the time-honoured way, sounding far more confident than she felt inside. Now she stood beside her husband in the ballroom, feeling suddenly shy as a hundred or so guests queued to shake her hand and congratulate her. The whole event seemed magical, surreal, that it should be she standing beside Bryce, and not one of these lovely young women.
‘I’m astonished you’d even consider me as a possible bride when you could have your pick of beautiful and rich heiresses across the land,’ she whispered to him, as yet another notable beauty pecked him a kiss on each cheek.
Bryce chuckled. ‘It’s you that I love, my darling.’
‘Yet arranged marriages among the rich are still very much the norm.’
‘Not for me. Didn’t I tell you right from the start, on the day we first visited Fowey, I seem to recall, that I would marry for love or remain obstinately single? I had no intention of following my mother’s example, and I never sought riches, although I’ve certainly found myself a beauty.’
Remembering Joe’s more forthright opinion on the subject, Rose secretly hoped this to be true.
Taking her hand Bryce brought it to his lips to press a kiss into her palm. ‘It’s rather late in the day to be having second thoughts. Don’t you trust me?’
She smiled up at him. ‘With my life.’
‘Be assured, my love, there is but one girl for me, and she is right here beside me, where she will always be.’
Rose sighed with contentment. Only one worry remained on her mind now. Her new husband thought her to be a widow, a woman of experience, when in reality Rose was still a virgin. Would he, she worried, be able to tell?
Later, as Tilly helped her to disrobe, Rose’s nervousness increased and she dragged out these last few moments with her maid for as long as possible, watching as Tilly carefully folded the gown preparatory to putting it back in Lady Tregowan’s press.
‘You never know, it might come in again, should she marry husband number five.’ And both girls fell into a fit of giggles.
‘One husband is enough for me, Tilly. I am the luckiest girl alive.’
‘Indeed you are, milady. Now let’s take off your petticoats, then I’ll help you into your nightgown and brush out your hair.’
Moments later, or so it seemed, Tilly set down the brush. ‘There we are, you’re ready, and still as beautiful as ever, if I might say so, milady.’ Bobbing a curtsey, Tilly turned to go.
‘Need you leave quite so soon? Bryce isn’t here yet.’
Pausing at the door, Tilly frowned, then took a step or two back into the room. ‘Are you all right, milady? It is quite normal to feel a bit nervous, on your wedding night,’ she said kindly. ‘But I’m sure you’ll be fine. He’s a gent is Mr Bryce, and it’s not like it’s your first time, begging your pardon, milady, is it?’
A short pause before Rose managed a bright smile. ‘Quite. Well, goodnight, Tilly, and thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, milady. God bless.’
When the door had closed leaving Rose alone, she turned her gaze upon the pale oval face in the mirror, a somewhat bleak image of herself, and not, to Rose’s mind, beautiful at all. What had she done? What on earth was she, common Rosie Belsfield, doing pretending to be a part of the aristocracy? What on earth would happen were her new husband to discover that she wasn’t at all who she claimed to be? She’d told lie after lie, and now it had come to the biggest lie of all. Whatever Joe had set in motion with his scheming, it was never meant to go this far. Could he be right, had she gone quite mad to take such a risk? Had love addled her brain, and she’d now set foot on a course that would lead to her own destruction?
The door opened and she started with alarm.
Bryce hurried towards her. ‘My darling, what is it? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Were you thinking of Robert, your first husband? No, it’s all right, no need to apologise, I’m sure there was much to remind you of him today, and I have no reason to be jealous. He loved you and made you happy, as I intend to do from now on.’
‘I think I’m just tired,’ she protested. ‘I’m not sure I shall be quite myself – quite what you might be expecting – tonight.’
He laughed softly, then sitting beside her on the dressing stool pulled her into his arms to kiss her, most tenderly. Perhaps too tenderly, for at the touch of his lips on hers the fire of desire lit inside her and she wanted more. Soon he was teasing open her mouth to allow his tongue to caress hers, and later she made no protest at all as he led her to the bed. Between the sheets that night, Rose discovered that making love to her beloved husband was the most natural thing in the world, even if it was her first time.
‘How should a good wife behave?’ she sleepily asked her husband the next morning as they lay entwined, having made love at dawn and several times since.
‘Exactly as you are doing, my love. I have no complaints.’ He rubbed a thumb over her breasts and her nipples peaked deliciously, the sensation making her gasp.
Rose smoothed her hands over his chest and shoulders, loving the strength of him, the hardness of his stomach and muscled length of his thighs
. Filled with a sudden burst of shyness, she studied his nakedness from beneath her lashes. ‘I do so want to make you happy.’
Spreading her arms out against the pillows, he set about trailing kisses over her throat and breasts, settling himself between her legs. ‘In that, you are succeeding wonderfully.’
Giggling, Rose playfully tapped his nose. ‘I don’t mean in bed, that’s the fun part, I mean in more important matters.’
He looked at her, wide-eyed. ‘What could possibly be more important than this?’ And as he proceeded to slide his hands beneath her bottom and lift her to him so that he could enter her once more, Rose couldn’t possibly imagine anything which could come remotely close in importance. She was having considerable difficulty even thinking as her senses flared at his lightest touch, and, as she felt him move inside her, spin out of control entirely.
Some time later, as she lay with her head on his chest listening to the beloved beat of his heart, she attempted the question again, in a slightly different way. ‘Your mother is mistress of this house, and has made it plain that she has no intention of surrendering that role, so what is mine, do you think?’
‘That, my darling, is of no consequence whatsoever. If Mama wishes to run the house, let her. Why worry your head about housekeeping?’
‘I would like to do something for the servants,’ Rose persisted. ‘They seem to have little time off, and I saw the maids’ room once. It was not only very stark but freezing cold, with no heat at all in that part of the house. They didn’t even have enough candles.’
Bryce was frowning, looking concerned. ‘I can understand your concern, but I suggest you tread warily. Mama has her own way of going about things, and she won’t take kindly to interference. Don’t look so serious,’ he teased, gently pinching her nose, then kissing it. ‘I’m not suggesting that you shouldn’t assert your authority a little, as this is your house too, I’m simply saying go slowly – that way you’re more likely to succeed.’
‘Your advice is no doubt sound, and I will do my utmost to heed it, I promise. Can we get up now? I believe it must be almost lunchtime. Everyone will wonder what we are about.’
Bryce chortled with delight. ‘They will know exactly what we are about. In fact,’ he murmured, sliding a hand to that secret private part of her with a touch that had proved to be a revelation the previous night, ‘we might well delay rising for a few more minutes.’
‘Indeed, we won’t,’ Rose vehemently protested. She was beginning to feel rather sore from such sustained loving, but to admit as much would invite awkward questions. She had supposedly been married for years, after all. Leaping briskly out of bed, she teasingly tugged at his arm and Bryce groaned as he reluctantly got to his feet.
‘Very well, if you are determined. But we might decide to take a small siesta after lunch.’
‘You are very wicked.’
He grinned at her. ‘Aren’t I just?’
It was a week later when Rose approached Lydia on the subject, only to discover that Bryce was absolutely correct. Her new mother-in-law had no intention of relinquishing the reins, and did not take kindly to having Rose intrude on her duties. Being obliged to provide extra candles for the servants was bad enough, allowing the chit to take more control was quite beyond the pale. ‘Being mistress of Penver Court has been my role for almost fifteen years, I see no reason why I should surrender it now to some slip of a girl.’
Rose cleared her throat, feeling entirely inadequate for the battle which clearly lay ahead. ‘I would not, for a moment, wish to deprive you of that role entirely. But I wondered if, with your agreement, I might relieve you of some of it. Surely you would welcome being rid of the more tedious chores? I am aware of your expertise in planning menus and organising the many soirées and dinners that you hold, and wouldn’t dream of intruding upon those. But perhaps I might take a little more responsibility for the servants’ welfare.’
‘Good heavens, weren’t the candles enough? Why on earth bother your silly head with such matters?’
Rose took a breath. ‘I once had occasion to visit the maids’ room, for example, and found there was no heating and not many blankets on their beds. Surely we can afford to make some improvements, so that the staff are at least comfortable and warm.’
‘Fiddlesticks! If we make things too easy for them we’d never get any work out of them at all. They’d be lying in bed all day. No indeed, leave well alone.’
‘But—’
Lydia gave that all too familiar cool smile, which turned those pale eyes of hers to ice. ‘As I said, running a house of this size is no task for an ignorant slip of a girl. Pray don’t interfere in something you know nothing about.’
Rose realised she had perhaps been a mite hasty, but she’d return to the problem later, at a more appropriate juncture.
The weeks and months slipped by in blissful contentment, the newly-weds rarely out of each other’s company for more than a few hours. Often Rose would accompany Bryce to Fowey on business. When his work was done they would spend time together on Readymoney beach helping Robbie build sandcastles or holding his hand while the little boy paddled in the sea, as he so loved to do. He would laugh with delight as the waves rippled over his bare feet. Then Bryce would carry him a little way out, holding him afloat while the little boy kicked his legs and arms like a little frog.
‘No child should live near the sea and not be able to swim,’ Bryce said, and thinking of Jago and his earlier threats towards her precious child, Rose could only agree.
Bryce bought a puppy for Robbie, which delighted the small boy, and the pair would happily play for hours. He even wanted Sam, as the Labrador pup was duly named, to sleep with him, but Rose was adamant that beds were for small boys, not dogs.
When the year began to die, and cold winds blew over the land, the rest of the family packed up and left for Biarritz, as usual. Bryce and Rose chose to spend Christmas alone at Penver Court. They put up a tree with candles, looped paper chains around the banisters, and brought in holly and mistletoe from the woods to decorate the house. They would light a log fire in the small parlour to make it warm and cosy, cuddling up together on the sofa as Robbie played with his bricks on the Persian rug. It was the most perfect time, with no one to interfere, no Lydia to constantly chide Rose whenever she failed to do anything correctly. No Jago to constantly watch and be wary of. They even took breakfast in bed and nobody minded.
‘How deliciously decadent,’ Bryce murmured, nibbling her ear and making her giggle.
‘Will we always be this happy?’ she asked him, eyes alight with love.
‘Always and for ever, my love.’
They were almost sorry when spring arrived, and with the first snowdrops, Lydia and Jago returned.
It was Robbie’s third birthday and the family had gathered to celebrate with tea and chocolate cake, and to watch him open his presents, of which there was quite a pile. Nothing from Lydia or Jago, sadly, but the servants had been surprisingly generous. Rose had bought him a rocking horse. Someone in the village had made it for her, a local man found by Joe. The little boy was so excited when he saw it that he at once tried to climb aboard. ‘Me want a ride.’
‘He’s a natural, this boy,’ laughed Bryce, and lifting him up, placed him in the saddle. ‘Go on, gee up, Neddy.’
‘Gee up, Dobbin,’ corrected Robbie as he grasped the reins and tried to set the horse rocking, which made everyone laugh all the more.
‘He clearly has a mind of his own, our young baronet. Just like his mother,’ Bryce said, casting a warm glance across at Rose where she sat on the sofa, watching the fun with a happy smile on her face.
‘Of course, but we mustn’t let him become spoilt.’
‘You cannot spoil a child with love. Is that not so, Mama?’
Lydia gave no more than a grunt by way of response, aware her son was surreptitiously criticising her. Jago came over and began to push the horse, making it rock a little faster. ‘Go on, boy, ride good old Dobbi
n. But you should be on a real horse, not a wooden one.’
‘He’s only three,’ Rose protested. ‘Far too young.’
‘Poppycock! If you mollycoddle the child he’ll turn into a namby-pamby, which is no good to any of us. He needs toughening up, make a man of him, and the sooner the better.’
‘I’ve said all along that the boy should go away to school at five,’ intervened Lydia, idly cutting herself a second slice of chocolate cake. This time Rose was wise enough not to respond. She’d learnt that the more she protested, the more difficult Lydia made life for her, and she really had no wish for a battle, not on this special day.
No one quite knew how it happened. One minute the horse was rocking back and forth, neither too fast nor too slow, then suddenly there was a loud crack and Robbie was pitched forward from his seat right over the horse’s head. Had Bryce not been standing in front of it and therefore able to catch him, the little boy might well have landed on his head, with terrifying consequences.
Rose was at his side in seconds, his screams throwing her into a panic.
‘It’s all right,’ Bryce assured her, as he gently relinquished the screaming child into her arms. ‘I don’t think he’s hurt. He’s just frightened.’ Then as Rose gathered him close to check his little arms and legs, Bryce turned on his brother in fury. ‘Was this your doing? Did you push him too hard?’
‘Damn it, I was only rocking the thing. If you look, one of the front legs is broken.’
My Lady Deceiver Page 21