by Adele Clee
“When you say intimate, do you mean it in the strongest possible terms?” Nicole wiggled her eyebrows as if it were a covert form of communication.
Rose shuffled closer. “Intimate in the way a wife is with her husband.”
Nicole shot back and plastered her hand over her mouth. She took a moment to compose herself. “No wonder you cried all the way home. For heaven’s sake, don’t mention this to your brother.”
“I may be a liar, but I’m not an imbecile.” While others would deem her reckless and foolish, loving Christian was the only thing in her life that felt right.
“I know you speak highly of Lord Farleigh, but trust me, a gentleman would not take a woman of your calibre to his bed and then let her leave.” Nicole clutched Rose’s arm. “Lord, I may punch him if I ever see him again.”
Having witnessed Nicole punch the guard at Morton Manor, she prayed Christian was agile and light on his feet.
The low hum of voices in the room suddenly grew in speed and pitch. Rose peeked around the potted fern curious as to what had captured the crowd’s attention. Two gentlemen and a lady stood at the large wooden doors leading into Lord Warner’s ballroom.
The lady to their right gasped. “Goodness, Felicity, it seems the night won’t be so tedious after all. Please tell me he’s not a mirage. Please tell me that’s Vane. I’ve waited two seasons to try my chances with him.”
“Step in line, dear.” The woman’s companion snorted. “The vultures are already circling. See.” Numerous ladies edged closer towards the new arrivals. “I see he’s brought his sister. Terrible shame what happened. I fear for any man who so much as looks at her in the wrong way.”
“They say one night with Vane and a woman is ruined for any other man.”
“I wouldn’t know, but like you, I wouldn’t mind finding out.”
While the ladies’ conversation proved entertaining, Rose wasn’t looking at the gentleman with the devilish grin. Nor did she care much for the woman with hair as dark as ebony. The other gentleman stole her attention. The one with green eyes that held her spellbound. The man who caused her body to flame at the merest glance, caused her heart to pound wildly in her chest.
Rose tapped Nicole on the arm. “You know you want to punch Lord Farleigh.” She focused on the magnificent vision before her. “Well, I think you may have your chance.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Next time you lend me the use of your house, have the decency to warn me you might visit with a whole entourage in tow.” Ross Sandford, Marquess of Trevane, known to all as Vane, brushed his hair back from his brow. “How the hell do you sleep when they make such a racket?”
“I would hardly call two children and a housekeeper an entourage.” Christian scanned the sea of heads looking for Rose. “Be thankful my son likes you else you might wake in the morning to find those ebony locks scattered about the bedchamber floor.”
Vane snorted. “Only your son would have the nerve to attack a man twice his size.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Were you not the only boy in school to put Haystack Henry on his arse?”
Christian chuckled. “Someone had to fight for those too weak to defend themselves.”
Two ladies sauntered past, their eyes glistening as they feasted on Vane’s masculine form.
Vane observed the crowd and turned to Christian. “Good God, if it weren’t for you I’d be at home.” The words burst through gritted teeth. “Do you see what you’ve done to me? Every lady with loose morals wants to eat me alive.”
“And all the rakes and rogues have rushed to hide behind the curtains, trembling with fear.”
Vane raised a brow. “You’re the only man who could make light of my situation and not get thumped.”
“I meant nothing other than I admire your ability to deal with scoundrels in the only manner fitting.” It had taken every ounce of strength Christian possessed not to beat the reverend to a pulp. “Of late, my method for dealing with vermin is to pretend they’re not there until they’ve eaten a hole in my breeches.”
Vane offered his arm to his sister, Lillian, and they stepped into the ballroom amid shocked glances and excited whispers. “You have to convey a respectable demeanour. You have children to consider. I have none. It makes a vast difference.” Vane’s mouth twitched at the corners. “But I’d rather not see your bare behind if it’s all the same.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I’ve seen your pert buttocks more times than I care to count. May I suggest you save that pleasure for your lady love when we find her?”
Lord Warner’s ball was just one event on a long list of possible places Rose might be. But a spark of energy in the air stirred Christian’s senses, and he knew with certainty that he’d come to the right place.
“Had you sent me round to question Stanton’s butler,” Vane said, “I doubt he’d have remained tight-lipped for long.”
Lillian chuckled. “My brother is renowned for his powers of persuasion.”
Christian had to admit to being shocked when he called to see Rose, only to discover she’d gone to a ball. After a brief tussle with his pride, he understood the earl’s urgency to introduce Rose back into society.
“Is that why you insisted on coming with me? Did you hope to persuade the lady to give me another chance?”
“I came because I had no desire to spend the next few days listening to you pining for your lost love. Someone had to make sure you didn’t throw yourself in the Thames in a fit of desperation.”
Christian appreciated his friend’s directness. He’d always been able to talk to Vane. Despite years of separation, the conversation felt natural. And Vane never lied.
“Trust me. I’d have barged into every ball and soiree until I found her.” He’d thought of nothing else since the night she’d left Everleigh. He couldn’t forget the words she’d whispered before running from the drawing room and out of his life. Rose’s safety was his primary concern, and Dr Taylor’s timely visit to London proved worrying.
“I think it’s rather sweet,” Lillian said, her eyes wide and bright. Most ladies who’d suffered as she had would hang their head in shame. But then most ladies did not have Vane for a brother. “You must care for the lady a great deal. Is this not the first time you’ve been to town in years?”
“Like your brother, there is nothing here for me now. I’m only grateful you’re receiving invitations else we’d still be loitering on the front steps.”
Vane cast him a sidelong glance and winked. “What makes you think I had an invitation?”
“But this is the third ball we’ve attended tonight. Our hosts waved us in without a bye or leave.”
“I don’t need an invitation, Farleigh. No sane gentleman would dare question my right to be here.” Vane gave a weary sigh. “Now, I shall take Lillian for a stroll in the garden while you search for your lady. I find I’m somewhat blind when it comes to noticing debutantes and so will be no use to you now.”
Debutantes? By society’s standards, Rose was his mistress. “I’ll come and find you when it’s time to leave.”
Vane inclined his head and proceeded towards the doors leading out onto the terrace. God help anyone who made the slightest comment about his sister. Christian was surprised Lillian had come. But the siblings had spent two years abroad, and Lillian was not one for hiding in the shadows. Vane sought any opportunity to ruffle the feathers of those who dared look down their nose at her.
Left alone, it didn’t take Christian long to find Rose. From the moment he entered the ballroom, he’d sensed her presence. Indeed, when he looked straight ahead, their gazes locked.
His heart swelled, and his knees almost buckled. Why the hell had he let her leave?
Rose cast him a warm smile.
Christian stopped a foot away and bowed. She offered him her hand, and he brushed his lips over her knuckles as he’d wanted to do at their first meeting.
While mildly flirtatious, Rose’s tone lacked the warmth of feeling to which he was accustomed. Was he too late? Was he misguided in thinking she felt something too?
“May I offer my felicitations on your recent marriage.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Lady Stanton cast him a hard stare. “While we are all guilty of leading with the heart, at some point we must act responsibly.”
Christian understood the message clearly. “Hence the reason I stand before you tonight.”
The lady remained at Rose’s side, though turned away and feigned interest in the ridiculously large potted fern.
The first few strains of a waltz punctured the air.
“Would you care to dance, Rose?” He despised the formality of it all when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her deeply. “Please tell me I’m not too late and that you have space on your card.”
“Dance? I assume you’re here because there are things you wish to discuss.”
“I hadn’t planned on talking, at least, not just yet.” He hoped the words struck a chord, that they reminded her of the intimate moment they’d shared in his study.
Recognition flashed in her eyes. “Then I hope you are as skilled at dancing as you are other things.”
“Thankfully, I’m able to master anything when I’m with you.”
Her blue eyes sparkled as they journeyed over him. “May I say you look rather dashing in evening attire.”
Rose looked stunning in the pastel-blue gown. “You always take my breath away, even when you have ash on your chin.”
She smiled. “You remembered.”
“I will never forget.” His breath came quickly as his heated blood surged through his veins. “Dance with me, Rose.” Forgive me for letting you go.
She offered her hand, and he led her out onto the floor. Taking her in his arms soothed his fears. She belonged with him, he’d known it since the day she strode into his study pretending to be a maid.
For a few minutes he didn’t speak, but let the music wash over him, savoured the instant feeling of contentment as her body glided in tune with his. Rose was his peace, his harmony.
“Tell me you hold no affection for Lord Cunningham.” Before he allowed himself to hope, he had to know the truth. “Tell me he means nothing to you.”
She stared into his eyes. “My heart is yours, Christian. After all that happened between us, I’m surprised you need to ask.”
He felt foolish. “I didn’t know what to think. You gave yourself to me freely though I’ve spent the last few days questioning whether I’d misread the signs.”
“You misread nothing.” A blush touched her cheeks. “I wanted you then, as much as I want you now.”
Good Lord, if only they were somewhere private. He firmed his hold on her hand as energy sparked between them. The urge to crush her to his chest proved overwhelming.
“Christian, you’re holding me too close.” The whispered words breezed past his ear. “Someone will notice.”
“Forgive me.” He slackened his grip. “The last few days have felt like a lifetime. The house is empty without you. The children are miserable, and Mrs Hibbet mumbles to herself at every given opportunity.”
“And what about you?”
“I need you, too. I’m empty, miserable and have no one to talk to.”
She caught her breath. “Christian, I—”
The dance came to an abrupt end, and they parted. With no option but to escort Rose back to her brother, he waited for Lord Stanton to berate him for being far too familiar.
“Lord Farleigh, I trust it’s been a while since you danced and consequently have forgotten what is deemed an appropriate distance.” Lord Stanton straightened to his full height. “How is Rose able to settle back into society when you’re determined to make a spectacle of her?”
Christian inclined his head. “As you say, after such a long stint in the country, I find my skill is somewhat lacking when it comes to dancing.”
Stanton stepped closer and bent his head. “My sister does not need any more upset.”
“Oliver, please,” Rose whispered.
“No, Rose, he needs to know. He needs to know that you cry yourself to sleep at night. Don’t think I don’t know. Don’t think I can’t hear you.”
Christian’s tongue grew thick as a pang of self-loathing hit him hard in the chest. He turned to look at Rose though he directed his reply to her brother. “I shall make it my life’s mission to ensure she has no need to shed a tear again.”
A foppish gentleman approached and cleared his throat to gain their attention. “Lord Stanton, I wonder if I might have the pleasure of asking Rose—”
“Bugger off, Cunningham.” Stanton didn’t bother to make eye contact with the dandy.
So, this was Lord Cunningham. What the hell was Rose thinking when she imagined herself in love with him? Heaven help the man when it came to undressing. It would take him a week to untie the ridiculous knot in his cravat. Christian breathed a sigh of relief when he considered the competition, but that didn’t stop him wanting to throttle Cunningham until the fellow’s cheeks turned blue.
“But I wanted to ask Rose—”
“Leave, Cunningham, else you’ll feel my shoe up your behind.”
“There is nothing to say,” Rose interjected when Cunningham lingered like a bad smell. “During my absence, I’ve come to realise we’re not suited.”
As Christian had no right to comment, he glared at Cunningham until the lord scuttled away.
“Now,” Stanton began. “I suppose it’s too much to hope you’re only here for that little blue book, Farleigh.”
Rose stiffened. “Does it matter why he’s here?”
“Blue book?” Was Stanton referring to Rose’s diary, the one she used to hide the letters? “I am not in the habit of reading a lady’s personal reflections.”
“I’m referring to the one she found at Everleigh.” Stanton glanced at Rose with some disapproval. “The one she should have left there. The one she had no right to take.”
Rose turned to Christian and placed a hand on his sleeve, much to her brother’s chagrin. “Perhaps we should take a stroll around the garden.”
Panic flared. If she’d lied to him about another matter, he wasn’t sure how he’d react.
“We’ll accompany you outside.” Lady Stanton took hold of her husband’s arm. “It’s clear you have things to discuss that requires time away from the ballroom.”
Stanton gestured for Christian to lead the way. “You may walk a few feet in front, but no more. I’ll not have people gossiping about Rose.”
Christian offered Rose his arm and led her out onto the terrace. They descended the stone steps leading into the well-lit garden. Christian waited until they’d settled into a relaxed pace before asking the question plaguing his thoughts.
“Why didn’t you mention the book before? You had every opportunity to do so. And what is so important you would bring it with you to London?”
“I did mention it. If you recall, I brought the book down to the study along with the letters, but you distracted me.”
An image of her lying naked beneath him flashed into his mind. “Granted, I had more pressing matters to attend to at the time.”
“The following day, I asked you to read it after you’d studied the letters.”
After that night in his study, he’d struggled to think of anything other than Rose. While he’d tried to read the letters, he wanted nothing to rid him of the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.
“Now I come to think of it I do recall you mentioning the book. But that still doesn’t explain why you brought the diary with you to London.”
She paused for a moment before speaking. “It’s not a di
ary but a ledger. It contains at least twenty names including Miss Stoneway, and payments ranging from thirty to two hundred pounds. In the back is a list of addresses, mostly here in London.”
“And you found this at Everleigh?” He might have suggested it belonged to his father had it not been for Miss Stoneway’s name. His father died long before the woman was a patient at Morton Manor.
A cool breeze drifted over them, and Rose shivered. Christian contemplated draping his arm around her shoulder, but he glanced behind only to meet Lord Stanton’s beady stare.
“I didn’t find it, Christian, Jacob gave it to me. He stole the book from Cassandra along with the letters.”
What would Cassandra want with such a thing? “And you’re certain it’s not a diary or a list of people Cassandra met at Morton Manor?”
“No, it’s a record of payments made.”
“Perhaps the ledger is the property of Morton Manor, and Cassandra stole it for some reason.” Cassandra often behaved irrationally, acted out of spite. “Perhaps she used it to bribe one of her lovers.”
“Oh, did you get the note I gave to Mrs Parsons?” Rose gripped his arm in a sudden flurry of excitement. “She promised she’d send it up to the house.”
“I did, and you were right. Whether Mr Watson and Cassandra were lovers remains to be seen, but the Reverend Wilmslow is the one who wrote the letters.”
Rose stopped abruptly and turned to face him. He could see her pulse beating hard in her throat. “Oh, Christian, I’m so sorry.” She placed her hand on his chest, and for a moment he forgot where he was. “Have you spoken to him?”
Behind them, Lord Stanton coughed discreetly.
Christian clasped Rose’s hand, placed it in the crook of his arm and continued walking. “He admitted to having relations with Cassandra. The man took me for a fool. The business about poisonous plants was merely a ploy so he could search the house.”
“The children mentioned that the reverend sat with them when they were ill. When he thought they were asleep, he tidied the room.”
“Tidied the room?” Recognition dawned. Damn it all. He should have done more than punch the man. “Cassandra must have told him that Jacob had stolen the letters. No doubt he was desperate to find them before I did.”