The Marquess’s Hand_A Regency Romance Novel

by Rosie Wynter

  Once again, Mr Farrell took his time to digest Rosalie’s words. He seemed to be a man who took great pains to deliberate on his words before speaking, no doubt a trait earned from years of having to deal with curious folk wanting to wheedle out the truth of the rumours that dogged him and his daughter. Finally, he offered a most awkward smile. Rosalie tried to discern just what was wrong with it. She could not decide if it was a smile filled with sadness, or whether it was a forced smile he put on to hide his agitation. “I cannot deny it would be pleasant to have a friend in the city. On top of which, I could hardly deprive Abigail of the chance to grow closer to her new favourite person.”

  Rosalie smiled to think she had earned such a place in the golden-haired child’s eyes. It was, however, somewhat disappointing to think that Mr Farrell’s only guiding influence here was a concern for his daughter’s wishes and desires. “Of course, I would not wish to force you to accept my friendship purely for the sake of your child. As dear a creature as Abigail is, I …”

  Mr Farrell stopped walking and turned to face Rosalie. His expression was grave, but a sigh dispelled that, and suddenly his entire being seemed to soften. “I did not mean to give you the wrong impression, Miss Curtis. I am truly grateful to you for giving me the benefit of the doubt when it comes to friendship. If I seem at all reluctant, it is because I wish that my past did not have to continually dog me as it does.”

  Rosalie nodded. She almost dared to suggest that Mr Farrell could help his cause by being open about his past and presenting his side of the story. However, she held her tongue. It was, after all, possible that the truth of his past was exactly as the rumours painted it and forcing him to admit such would not do him or their uncertain relationship any good. Instead, she chose to trust his assurance that he actually did want to forge some kind of acquaintance with her. “I am sorry if my words seemed harsh, sir. I just... I find you hard to fathom out, in light of all I have heard of you.”

  Mr Farrell nodded, his lips drawing thin as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can appreciate the concerns you may have about continuing to associate with me. I do wish I could allay your fears by freely telling you all you wish to know of me. I fear, however, that it is not a thing I am able to do, at least not so soon into our acquaintance.”

  “You mean to say I must earn your trust?” Rosalie asked.

  Mr Farrell sighed and shook his head. Now he really did seem agitated. “No... that is not what I meant. It is complicated to explain, and I am not even sure I could do so without going into all the details I am loath to share.”

  Rosalie nodded and let out her own sigh in an echo of his. “I do not even pretend to understand this all, but I will trust you. As I have said already, I shall endeavour to judge you by your actions and not by the hearsay of others; not for things so far in the past that your daughter is not even old enough to know of them.”

  “Thank you, Miss Curtis. You have a good heart.”

  Though Rosalie felt she had accomplished something meaningful through her talk with Mr Farrell, there was only so much she could do with the time allotted to her. As the gentleman paid her the compliment, Rosalie found her eyes darting nervously down the street in the direction of the public rooms where her aunt was taking tea. “I hope you will forgive me for this, but I really must return to my aunt now. I told her I was stepping outside for some air.”

  Mr Farrell frowned, and he let out a long breath as he looked in the same direction. From the look of dissatisfaction etched upon his brow, Rosalie could tell she had said entirely the wrong thing. The man took a step back from her, the distance he created seeming to suggest a fresh division brought between them. His Adam’s apple moved, and his lips drew thin. “I would offer to walk you back, but it seems that might cause trouble for you.”

  “I am sorry if you are insulted at all. My aunt is ….”

  “Is only looking out for her own reputation and yours. I know it is not advisable to be acquainted with me. Certain folk in the city could make life difficult for you, if you were to be seen in my company. Perhaps you should think again, before looking to forge a friendship with me.” His warning was made earnestly, but his eyes seemed to glaze with sadness as he stared down at his shoes. Rosalie could not help but feel for him. Regardless of what he had or hadn’t done in his past, he seemed to have suffered greatly at the hands of London society.

  “I will not let my aunt dictate whom I can and cannot speak to,” Rosalie said, trying to muster as much determination into her voice as she could.

  Even this did not seem to improve the gentleman’s mood, and he looked at Rosalie seriously. “My situation has left me more scrutinised than most figures in London. I cannot accept your meeting me in secret or without your aunt knowing. If you were to be found doing so, the consequences would not be pleasant for either of us.”

  Rosalie nodded. Even without the complexities of Mr Farrell’s situation, it was not wise to become embroiled in a secret rendezvous. She had admonished Grace for as much when she had caught her sneaking about Bradford-on-Avon with her stable boy. “Well, I can promise that I will, at the least, speak to her, although I can give no assurance of what the outcome might be.”

  Mr Farrell nodded and gave her a wan smile. “I do not know just how Lady Lynch will react. She has certainly always given the appearance of being very dedicated to her social standing. Still, it is gratifying to think that you are willing to go to such lengths to ensure a continuation of our friendship. I honestly cannot say I have done enough to deserve such dedication.”

  Rosalie smiled and put out a hand, resting it on his forearm. “You have behaved as any gentleman would, with me... which is more than can be said of other men I have met in this city to date. I cannot say what good will come of talking to my aunt, but I assure you I will try.”

  Rosalie walked back to the tea rooms alone. She walked at a slow pace, wanting to give herself a chance to regain her composure after her run and the difficult conversation with Mr Farrell. It was slightly disappointing to find him unwilling to provide any details or even a defence against the rumours laid against him, but she was determined not to let this influence her own opinion of him. She would do her uttermost to persuade her aunt to permit her to call on the man and to make good on her promise to see little Abigail again. It was not, however, a conversation she looked forward to.

  When she returned to the public tea rooms, where her aunt was waiting for her, Rosalie discovered Lady Jane and her other friend had gone. Her aunt remained seated in her place, sipping quietly on her cup of tea as she looked out of the window. Rosalie took slow, cautious steps to the table, unsure whether to bring up the matter of Mr Farrell immediately or to wait until later in the day, hoping for a moment when she had the time to fully deliberate over what she wished to say.

  “I am sorry if I was gone longer than I meant to be.” Rosalie offered her apology bashfully as she sat down. “I hope Lady Jane was not put out by my sudden exit.”

  Her aunt’s bright-blue eyes turned to her niece. The smile she normally wore was gone. It was replaced by thin lips that made her look older than she normally did. “I do not think it troubled her in any way. How was Mr Farrell when you saw him?”

  Rosalie took a sharp intake of breath. Her aunt never failed to surprise her with her sharp eyes and mind. She had been sure Lady Lynch had not even been looking to the window when he had passed by. “I... I am sorry if you are disappointed by my choice to talk to him.”

  Lady Lynch’s back was stiff, and she seemed tightly wound as she stirred her tea. “I have given you all the information at my disposal regarding the gentleman. I would hope you used this latest meeting to confront him on the matters I brought to your attention. Did you?”

  Rosalie looked down at the tablecloth. “I did make an attempt to coerce him into defending himself against the matters you brought to my attention. Mr Farrell was unwilling to make any useful statement on the matter.”

  Lady Lynch, at last, smiled
. Her mood lightened considerably as she shrugged her shoulders and brought her cup back to her lips. “Oh, I would not feel at all bad for failing to coax the truth out of him. Others before you have laboured hard and long to persuade the man to give some kind of definitive statement on his shadowy conduct and the circumstances of his daughter’s birth; newspaper men, former associates, church parsons and the like.”

  “I wish to continue my acquaintance with Mr Farrell!” Rosalie spoke all of a sudden, the words coming so quickly from her mouth that she was not sure they would even have made sense. Certainly, the look her aunt gave her was one of complete confusion.

  Lady Lynch continued to hold her cup close to her lips, a dainty finger running over the rim of the china cup. “May I ask you why you wish to continue an association with the gentleman?”

  Rosalie was surprised by the question. It was not that it was an unreasonable query. What surprised her was her lack of certainty in how to answer the question honestly. “The man helped me, in a situation where no one else would help. More than this, I genuinely believe that Mr Farrell is too much maligned. I will not suggest he has not deserved some of the censure thrown at him... but the quarrel and objections against him are seven years old now. How must it feel for his poor daughter?” Rosalie found herself becoming quite passionate as she spoke, and Lady Lynch put her hand on her niece’s arm to silence her.

  “Well, I can see you clearly have strong feelings on this matter.” Her aunt leaned back in her chair and looked around at the other tables. Most were unoccupied, and it was unlikely any had heard Rosalie’s rousing defence of Mr Farrell. The woman took a moment to think, and when she next spoke, her words were haltingly slow. “I suppose... It is summer, and Lady Hargrave and her family will be in their country estate by now. They are the guard dogs who keep a vigilant watch on any who associate with that gentleman. With them gone, I suppose you can meet Mr Farrell with some impunity. It helps, too, that you are new to London and can always use your own naivety about him as a defence, should anyone question your association with him.”

  Rosalie’s eyes widened in surprise. “You are allowing me to call on Mr Farrell and his daughter?”

  “On two conditions.” Lady Lynch leaned forward, two fingers held up to make the point. “Firstly, you will do your uttermost to be discreet in your meetings with the man.”

  “I believe that will not be a problem,” Rosalie answered. Mr Farrell seemed as alive to her reputation as her aunt, and she felt confident he would take pains not to sully her reputation. “May I ask what your second stipulation is?” When it came to her aunt, Rosalie had quickly learned to always check the woman’s motivations.

  Lady Lynch rose from the table, done with her tea. She looked down at her niece with some seriousness, as she put her hand on Rosalie’s shoulder. “We will be beginning a program of visits with my friends over the next few weeks. Lady Jane will open many social doors for you and will thrust you into the path of a number of those eligible young men I promised to introduce you to. Seeing as how your fascination with Mr Farrell seems to be an incurable illness, I will let you see him. However,” Lady Lynch’s grip on Rosalie’s shoulder seemed to tighten just a little in that moment, “I need to see a real effort made by you with the young men I will be introducing you to. Your father suggested you show little initiative or even interest when speaking to eligible men of good standing. I am hoping that by offering Mr Farrell as a carrot, you will put in a better showing for me than you have for your parents.”

  Rosalie pursed her lips but nodded. She did not like to be treated like some cart horse in need of an incentive to walk forward, but she did not wish to say anything that might jeopardise her chances of seeing Mr Farrell and keeping her promise to little Abigail. “I believe I am able to agree to those terms, Aunt,” she said at last. Before rising to follow Lady Lynch back onto the streets, Rosalie drank down the last of the tea in one grateful gulp. The conversation had left her throat quite dry.

  PART 3:

  A Man to Marry

  CHAPTER 13

  Although Lady Lynch had imposed two conditions on Rosalie’s association with Mr Farrell, the woman was quick to add a lot of caveats and additional rules and restrictions to their bargain. Rosalie was unafraid to note that her aunt was being most unfair in altering their deal after it had been struck. Aunt Lynch did not seem to take any offence nor show any remorse, however. Indeed, she had actually smiled at her niece’s complaints and noted that it was her right to alter their agreement as she saw fit as she was the one with all the cards in her hand. If Rosalie did not like any part of their bargain, she was quite free to call it off, and Lady Lynch would be sure, in turn, to forbid her from visiting the home of Mr Farrell. It was low cunning Lady Lynch was using, and her aunt seemed to revel in it. Rosalie became quite certain her aunt saw the entirety of social movements in the city as some game to be played for amusement.

  One of the many new conditions Rosalie had to abide by was to agree not to visit with Mr Farrell until the first dinner party at Lady Jane’s was brought to a conclusion. This seemed most unnecessary to Rosalie, but her aunt had been most vehement on the matter, citing once again the importance of the carrot and the stick. According to her own warped view of things, Rosalie could not be trusted to perform admirably at Lady Jane’s party unless the reward for attending the function had not yet been given. Although it was never expressly stated in words, Rosalie knew that this meant her aunt would be looking for any excuse to renege on her promise to allow her to visit Mr Farrell at his home. If Aunt Lynch thought, even for a moment, that she had not done her best to secure the interest of the eligible men at the party, she would most certainly see to it that any possibility of meeting with Mr Farrell and Abigail would be curtailed.

  Getting ready for an evening out never felt right in the summer. There was something off-putting about dressing up in broad daylight and leaving the house before the sun set, which spoiled some of the ambience and the magic of a night out. There was something alluring and magical about stepping out into the darkness and being greeted by the faint glow of candles and lamps. It was these things that set the mood for an evening out. Stepping out to a bright-blue sky, with the sun still high, sapped all the mystery and warmth out of the occasion, and Rosalie found it very hard to manufacture any kind of excitement for the night ahead.

  At her aunt’s insistence, Rosalie had forced herself into an elegant dress that was perhaps a shade less ornate than the richest ball gowns she had seen in the past. Still, it was captivating and richly decorated in its own way. It was a white gown made of very fine muslin and heavily embroidered around the hem. Strips of Nottingham lace ran in two parallel lines from the top of the back to the bottom of the dress, making her figure much more stunning from behind, she thought. The sleeves were very short and had similar lines of lace running down them in an echo of the pattern on her back. The cut of the dress about her chest was not too objectionable, although Rosalie could not be sure if this was because the cut was a modest one or her own opinion had been altered after days of wearing dresses that conformed to her aunt’s design and vision. The very notion that she was becoming accustomed to wearing things she would not normally choose for herself caused something of a stir of fright in Rosalie.

  To finish off the ensemble, Rosalie had sleek white gloves that ran to her elbows, and her hair was crowned with a golden tiara borrowed from her aunt’s collection of jewellery, along with a rather plain necklace of the same gold to go about her neck. Rosalie was not accustomed to wearing jewellery. Not only was it a luxury her parents could not really afford to give their children; there was still the idea that an excess of jewellery suggested a certain wantonness in a woman, and so Rosalie had always thought to leave such accessories alone. She put such qualms behind her, however, for this night. For tonight, she was whatever her aunt wanted her to be.

  Their host’s home was only a stone’s throw from Lady Lynch’s own residence. It lay on Grosvenor Stre
et, just at the corner of the square, and so the use of a carriage, on such a fine evening, was unnecessary. This came as another source of disappointment for Rosalie, and she let out a wistful sigh as she and her aunt stepped out onto the street and began to walk at a leisurely pace across the square.

  “You seem somewhat dissatisfied with things? I hope you are not bored by the prospect of dining with my friends tonight.” Aunt Lynch threaded her arm about her niece’s. She was dressed in a gown of deep red, much like the one Rosalie had seen her wearing the first time she had ever laid eyes on her. Lady Lynch seemed to enjoy wearing bold colours, her usually vivacious manner lending her some kind of licence to dress daringly.

  “I am quite fine, Aunt,” Rosalie assured. “It is just all a little anticlimactic: walking across the street to your friend’s in full evening wear, the sun still shining brightly down upon us. I much prefer stepping out to an event on a cold and dark night, the stars and moon twinkling and the lights from the houses inviting you in with their warmth.”

  “Yes, very picturesque.” Lady Lynch did not sound at all interested. “The sun will go down by eight o’clock, and we should have no cause to return home before eleven. I am sure you will get your moonlight and stars before the evening is out. Let us not forget our purpose in coming out in the first place. It certainly has little to do with ambience.”

  “I know, Aunt,” Rosalie answered somewhat wearily. “I will be sure to make myself available to any young men at the dinner and will endeavour to pay them my full attention.”

  Lady Lynch nodded. “Very good... though do not try to engage with them all at once. If you find a man who is to your liking, don’t be afraid to make him the object of your attention for the evening. It would be far better for you to make a very good impression on one man than a mediocre impression on five.”