The Marquess’s Hand_A Regency Romance Novel

by Rosie Wynter

  Aunt Lynch was, of course, the epitome of fashion, and Rosalie felt outclassed in every way by the woman whose looks had not been suffered to weather with age. Any gentleman might have thought her aunt an older sister, and she was sure many would likely find her a more attractive prospect than Rosalie herself. Still, this was no source of annoyance for Miss Curtis. She had no interest in competing with her aunt, or anyone else, in terms of looks.

  “You are looking particularly breath-taking today, Rosalie.” Lady Lynch stepped forward to inspect her niece, fingers lightly correcting the odd stray hair on the girl’s head and smoothing out parts of her dress. It did not take long for Lady Lynch to notice the way the gown had been pulled up about Rosalie’s bust, and she quickly corrected it, to her niece’s dismay. “There is no reason to be so modest. It is summer and hot outside... I am sure your skin will thank you for giving it the chance to breathe.” Her aunt made an interesting excuse for subjecting so much of Rosalie’s flesh to the public eye.

  “So, where are we going to today, Aunt?” Rosalie had thought her new-found obedience to her aunt would be welcomed by Lady Lynch. Instead, the question earned a frown from the grand woman.

  “We are going to a luncheon where, if we are lucky, we might happen upon some acquaintances of mine with their young sons. Many young men of lucrative occupation are still lurking about the city, and it is possible we might make some useful introductions. Even if we do not, simply introducing you to my friends will be a benefit to you. Our goal is to leverage invitations to houses and parties over the next few weeks. They will be far more intimate affairs than the balls and soirees you would have experienced during the London season.”

  Rosalie nodded, feeling a little like a soldier receiving his orders before a battle. “Are you working on the assumption that these more intimate gatherings will afford me greater chance to gain the notice of a suitable man?” She sighed as she considered the plan. “It makes sense, I suppose. I have far more hope of attracting a man if there are no other young women vying for his attention.”

  Lady Lynch frowned, and she put out her hand, squeezing Rosalie’s arm reassuringly. “One thing you need to learn is a sense of your own beauty. You are no less worthy of a man’s regard than any of the best-connected women in London. Your only barrier is your own lack of confidence and your belief in your own inferiority.”

  Rosalie gave a slight nod but made no verbal reply to her aunt’s words. As much as she wished to believe her, and as much as she felt her looks had indeed been accentuated by the fine new clothes she wore, Rosalie could not shake off the suspicion that her aunt was simply being kind to her with her affirmations. Only a fool relied on their own family to rate their beauty; family were naturally biased.

  The particular establishment to which Lady Lynch brought Rosalie was far grander than the cosy teahouse she had visited with Mr Farrell and little Abigail. Rosalie was not sure why this was her first impression of the spacious and well-lit room. She mentally scolded herself for letting her thoughts wander so easily to Mr Farrell. She had made a promise to herself to put the man out of her mind since discovering his background from her aunt. She did herself no favours by dwelling on the man, and she clenched her fists for a moment as she exorcised the man from her mind. He would likely return to her thoughts in time, but for now, she had to focus on meeting the well-to-do friends to whom Lady Lynch was so keen to introduce her.

  Although there were many empty tables in the establishment, Lady Lynch breezed past these, ignoring the pleas of one of the staff who was trying to seat them. Instead, she marched purposefully to a table by one of the windows. Two women of a similar age and appearance to Lady Lynch were already seated in intimate and excited conversation. Rosalie would never have dreamed of interrupting such a private discussion, and she felt her cheeks flush red as Lady Lynch immediately made herself known to the two women, forcing her way into their company by brute force.

  “My dear Lady Jane, I am so sorry to interrupt you, but it has been far too long since I have had the pleasure of your company. I could not stop myself from coming straight over to hear all the news.”

  The younger-looking of the two women, a lady with blonde hair that was just starting to turn white, looked up. To Rosalie’s relief, a warm smile spread across her face, revealing the first suggestions of wrinkles. Here was another woman whose bloom had not quite faded. The woman immediately ceased her conversation with her friend and stood, circling around the table in a great hurry. Lady Lynch extended her arms, and the two embraced like sisters. “My dearest Isabelle, it is so good to see you. Please, sit down and join us. I haven’t seen or heard of you in weeks. There were even rumours you had quit London.”

  Lady Lynch gave a smile that was at once genuine and thoroughly rehearsed. There was happiness in her look, but a happiness that was reigned in. “I am afraid I have been most reckless with my social duties of late, but I promise you it has been with good cause.” At this, Lady Lynch moved aside, allowing her friend to look on Rosalie. “This is my eldest niece, Miss Rosalie Curtis. She is staying with me as my permanent guest, and I have been quite busy preparing her room and acquainting her with the city.”

  Rosalie gave a slight and nervous curtsey. “It is a pleasure to meet you... Lady Jane, was it?” She blushed, wishing she had paid a little more attention.

  “Oh goodness, where are my manners! I so easily forget you do not know the faces of my inner circle.” Lady Lynch laughed good-naturedly. “Lady Jane Fitzroy is wife to the Earl of Markham and the dearest and most wonderful friend a lonely widow like myself could ask for.”

  Lady Jane laughed in turn and drew closer to Lady Lynch, stroking her arm with a gloved hand. “Oh, dear Isabelle, you do me too much honour!” The two seemed thoroughly committed to a game of laying compliments on each other, and Rosalie simply smiled as the two friends sang each other’s praises. There was a sense of genuine camaraderie between the two, but she was equally sure the two friends were going above and beyond the call of duty in the way they doted on one another.

  “It is very nice to meet you, Lady Jane.” Rosalie curtseyed once again, feeling a little flustered. Though her own aunt was a woman of the peerage, she had not had cause to speak with women so far above her station before, and she feared a misstep in manners or in appearing too simple or unrefined to Lady Lynch’s friends.

  In the end, very little was required of Rosalie as she sat at the table with Lady Lynch and her friends. Her aunt was a master of conversation and dominated the proceedings. Her friend Lady Jane and the other woman, whose name Rosalie kept forgetting, listened with rapt attention to Lady Lynch, taking in everything she said as though it were gospel truth. In return, both ladies filled her aunt with the latest news, rumour and gossip. They seemed singularly eager to hear Lady Lynch’s opinion on all that had occurred in her absence.

  One piece of news related to a Miss King’s becoming engaged, rather suddenly, to a Mr Law. Rosalie could glean little useful information on either of these individuals, but her aunt seemed to look down on the match, declaring Miss King far too eager to rush to the altar with the first person to take an interest in her.

  “And what of you, Miss Curtis?” Lady Jane’s attention suddenly swung back to her, and she eyed Rosalie with curiosity. The lady had green eyes which seemed to sparkle with barely repressed curiosity as she looked at Rosalie. “Is there any gentleman in your life, or one whom you have an eye on?”

  Rosalie took a deep breath, wishing she could have remained in the background of the conversation for the duration. She felt embarrassed talking about men with even her closest friends, and talking so openly with relative strangers, even if they were friends of her aunt, was not a thrilling prospect for her. Was she expected to admit that she had been two seasons in London unable to catch the eye of a gentleman?

  “My niece suffers from an appalling lack of options down in the country. Bradford-on-Avon is a charming enough town. But, with my dear Rosalie’s fine lo
oks, she should not have to be shackled to her home county.” Lady Lynch jumped straight in with an answer that masterfully bypassed the more unfortunate truths of Rosalie’s situation.

  “Oh indeed! Your niece is an absolute vision, and it is a shame we have not had the chance to make her acquaintance sooner.” Lady Jane smiled and then bit her bottom lip as she seemed to wrestle with some decision. A moment later she put up her hands and clapped them together. “Indeed, why should I waste time? Isabelle, it has been some time since you last dined at our home. I have longed to hold some kind of party to pass the dreary summer time, and this seems the perfect excuse. I absolutely insist you and your lovely niece come dine with us this weekend.”

  The mission was accomplished. Lady Lynch had proven herself a master of navigating the channels of social interaction and had now earned Rosalie an introduction to a circle of London society to which she might never have been admitted through the efforts of her mother alone. With their main enterprise accomplished, Rosalie found herself made superfluous to requirements at the table. Despite Lady Jane’s insistence on wishing to know Rosalie better, she was quick to forget about her existence as conversation turned once again to the salacious gossip and rumour that passed for entertainment among these women of London.

  Rosalie sighed and turned to the window. The heat of the summer sun was magnified through the windows, and the ladies were forced to fan themselves regularly as they spoke. Beads of sweat clung to them all as they politely ignored the cloying weather. It took some fortitude to shrug off such temperatures, and Rosalie was a little envious of how marvellously her aunt and the other two women bore the heat.

  Taking a sip of her now cold tea, Rosalie’s eyes narrowed as a face she recognised moved past the window. Her immediate desire was to find some excuse to abandon her aunt and go after it. It was surprising to find herself so desiring the company of a man she had so misjudged on first meeting, and she tried to rationalise her continued interest in him as he walked briskly past, never noticing her.

  “I am terribly sorry, Aunt,” Rosalie burst out suddenly, interrupting the women’s tête-a-tête. “I wonder if I might be excused. I think I need some air.” Rosalie blushed, hoping she didn’t look too eager to break away from her aunt’s leash.

  “Oh, dear child, are you alright? Should we maybe call for someone?” Lady Jane looked to Rosalie with more concern than was warranted, and Rosalie at once waved her hand to dismiss her suggestions.

  “No, I am quite well... I just need a moment outside to recover my breath.”

  Lady Lynch’s eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips. “If you need to, we could take our leave now.”

  “Please don’t, Aunt.” Rosalie batted aside the suggestion, almost desperately. “I do not wish to cut short your time with friends you have not seen in so long. I shall just take a small stroll through the streets and return when I feel recovered.”

  Lady Lynch shrugged and then gave a smile. This particular smile was most definitely forced. “Whatever you think best. Just don’t stray too far and get lost.”

  Under the guise of feeling faint, Rosalie was able to excuse herself without the hassle of making long-winded farewells. She had to fight an urge to rush to the exit, knowing that to do so would not only be unladylike but also quite suspicious. When she stepped out onto the streets, she looked furtively in every direction, looking for some sign of the gentleman she had spied from the window. She was lucky enough to find him moving at a brisk pace down one of the longer streets and was able to set off after him at a good pace. She earned a few confused glances from passers-by as she pursued the man, but she did not care.

  Rosalie was not sure quite what power had taken hold of her. It was not in her nature to chase after a man so brazenly. If either of her sisters had made such a spectacle, she would have been sure to scold them for it. None of these thoughts seemed to dissuade her from her course. She continued to march determinedly after the man until she was close enough to gain his attention.

  “Mr Farrell.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Despite having called out to the man, Rosalie found her face becoming hotter as Mr Farrell turned about in some confusion. She was out of breath from so brisk a run to catch up to him, and she could only guess at what thoughts would run through his head as he caught sight of her. Winded and flushed as she was, Rosalie was sure she could not make a good impression. It came as no surprise that the man frowned as he saw her.

  “Miss Curtis? Can I help you? Is something the matter? On my honour, you look like you’ve just been pursued through the streets by a rabid dog.”

  Rosalie was not sure if she was grateful for the man’s blunt honesty, at that moment. Her eyes darted away from his, and she squirmed under his analytical gaze. “No, I am quite well, sir, and certainly not being pursued by any dogs to the best of my knowledge.” She smiled somewhat awkwardly and took a deep breath as she realised she would have to admit the truth to him. “I was taking tea with my aunt and her friends when I spied you from the window.”

  Mr Farrell blinked twice as though he were suddenly unsure of what was before his eyes. A smile then crept over his features and he drew closer to Rosalie. “You saw me from a window and then proceeded to run through the streets after me? I must admit I am quite flattered you’d go to such lengths just to orchestrate a meeting.”

  Rosalie felt like he was teasing her, but she could hardly say she did not deserve it. Her actions were most unusual, both for herself and for any well-mannered woman. She was not even sure what madness had driven her to such a pursuit. Why could she not have let him pass and accepted that their meeting was not to be?

  With no answer to Mr Farrell’s question forthcoming and needing to catch her breath, Rosalie could only stand dumbly before him, taking deep breaths as she recovered herself. Mr Farrell seemed to understand and drew alongside her, taking her arm to save her from further scrutiny by the curious onlookers who had watched her run through the streets after him. “Perhaps, Miss Curtis, I could escort you to someplace you might sit down and you can tell me how London has been treating you since last we spoke. I know Abigail will be most keen to have news of you.”

  Rosalie nodded and allowed Mr Farrell to steer her down the street at a more leisurely pace. For a minute or so she was silent. She had recovered from the run, but embarrassment kept her tongue pinned inside her mouth, and she had to conquer this feeling before she could speak properly once more.

  “I will admit, I miss your daughter’s company and would be grateful if you could pass on my best wishes to her, along with my apologies for not having called on you both sooner.” Rosalie looked down at her arm, interlocked with his. It sent a slight thrill through her, and she could not tell if it was excitement or fear that fuelled her reaction.

  “I will be certain to pass on those kind sentiments. I will confess, though, I had not thought you would truly look to visit us. I hope I do not sound at all judgemental when I say this, but I had presumed your aunt would have forbidden such a thing.” Mr Farrell’s voice was measured, but there was a definite sharpness to his tone that Rosalie did not recall from her previous meetings.

  “I honestly do not think my aunt is capable of telling someone what they can and cannot do. However, she has furnished me with fresh knowledge that gave me pause whenever I considered calling on you.” Rosalie stopped herself there, her eyes moving nervously to Mr Farrell’s as she tried to gauge his reaction. Perhaps she should not be talking to him of the things she had learned of his past. However, something inside her wanted to bring the matter to him, wanted to see his reaction and allow him the chance to defend himself.

  There was no hint of surprise on Mr Farrell’s face, and Rosalie felt certain that he was all too aware of the rumours and gossip she had been told regarding his past. The muscles in his jaw seemed to tighten. Some of the colour in his cheeks drained, and his gaze became fixed firmly on the path ahead. Even if her words had not surprised him, they had garnered a reacti
on, and not a favourable one, by the looks of things. A silence passed between them, and Rosalie watched with apprehension as the man struggled to process her words.

  “I do not think it would be wise or prudent of me to ask for the specifics of what your aunt has told you. I make it a point not to engage in any discussion of my past, or of the rumours that surround it.” He spoke with a certain authority and determination that dismayed Rosalie.

  “I will not presume you would wish to discuss such things with a relative stranger such as myself.” Even with the summer heat still bearing down strongly upon them, she felt suddenly cold. Despite what she had just said, she had really hoped Mr Farrell would oblige her with some explanation for all she had heard about him.

  “I am grateful for that.” Mr Farrell’s conversation was clipped and brusque. Rosalie wondered if he was even happy to be speaking with her at that moment.

  Not allowing herself to be put off by the wall the man seemed eager to put up between them, Rosalie pushed on. “You were most kind to me on my first day here in the city. You went above and beyond to look after me, and I view you as a friend, despite all I have heard.” She gripped his arm a little tighter, the action causing Mr Farrell to turn and look her in the eye. She held his gaze seriously. “I try my best to judge a person by what I see with my own eyes, and not by the gossip of others. I can’t pretend to know all of your past... I can’t even truthfully say I am thrilled by the gossip that surrounds your name. However, you seem to me to be a good person, and I do not wish to deprive myself of your friendship because of your past.”