Simon wasn’t quite sure what it was about the woman that struck fear into the hearts of even the highest of society, but fear was struck and therefore respect was to be given, even by—or perhaps especially by—one such as Mister Simon Trumbull.
With a beleaguered sigh, Simon turned back around and continued on his original path through the crowd, toward Rose and the indomitable Lady Lancaster. And what a crowd there was. But that suited Simon’s purpose just fine. He was in no hurry to reach the pair. Well, maybe he wouldn’t mind chatting with Rose, but Lady Lancaster? He would just as soon avoid her indefinitely.
Frankly, he should feel more reluctant to greet his betrothed than he did. Certainly he had gone out of his way to avoid her lately. But now that he had no choice, he was surprised to find himself curious as to how she was.
Deep down he knew he would eventually marry Rose. As much as he may act as if he didn’t care, he would never dishonor his parents so much as to break a legally binding contract. And though he would never admit it aloud, there was actually something about Rose that intrigued him.
He had heard from friends who had tried to talk with her (there was something to be said for trying out a line or two on a girl everyone knew was spoken for—and therefore “safe”) that she was a shy, timid, blundering thing. Simon had never seen that side of Rose, however. He wasn’t sure if it was because they had grown up together, or the fact that they were engaged already, but Rose always seemed very eloquent with him. Shy, yes; tendency to blush and avoid direct eye contact, yes; but unable to speak coherently, no.
This fact made Simon feel a bit special, actually, and honestly, so very little in his life did these days. But he wasn’t ready to marry yet and he doubted very much that he would be ready any time soon.
He supposed that was why it was getting harder and harder to spend time with Rose. While she had never actually said so, he assumed she was getting a little anxious about his lack of commitment thus far.
He was going to have to talk with her about it before long, though. They needed to set up some ground rules. They may have to get married, but he truly hoped she wouldn’t expect their marriage to be a traditional one.
They would do what they had to do to provide their parents with an heir, but then he fully expected them to go their own ways. The last thing he wanted to be was tied down by some girl…some obligation…that wasn’t even of his choosing.
This was not a love match, and the sooner they both recognized that, the better off they would be.
…
By the time she heard Lady Lancaster summon Simon, Rose had lost most of her voice and much of her audience. Not surprisingly, Hope had fled as soon as Lady Lancaster had arrived. Clearly she had not grasped the significance of what Rose was saying the way the others had.
Grabbing a glass of lemonade off of a tray being carried past her, Lady Lancaster remarked, “Well, my dear. You certainly are popular tonight.”
Clearing her throat in an entirely useless attempt to relieve her hoarseness, Rose said, “Yes, I had no idea everyone would be so fascinated.”
“Didn’t you, now?” Lady Lancaster asked dryly, as she handed the glass of pale yellow liquid to Rose.
Rose blushed slightly. “Fine, I suppose I wasn’t completely surprised by the interest. This breakthrough could…er, impact…any number of families. I just never imagined that everyone would be so bold in their interest. Isn’t it a little obvious of them?” She gave Lady Lancaster a grateful look as she took a much needed swallow of the drink.
“The ton is nothing if not obvious…in a variety of matters,” Lady Lancaster stated.
Rose had to admit Lady Lancaster had a point. Looking around the room, Rose could see a number of prime examples of such.
Across the room, Almira Muckley was surrounded by a puppy-like group of men eager to do her bidding, but it was clear the man she really wanted was Rupert Wentworth, the Duke of Sussex. It was equally apparent that the duke didn’t even know the young debutante existed; the duke was far more interested in the wife of the Earl of Lindsey, who seemed to return the sentiment, if her sidelong glances were any indication.
In yet another corner, a group of young ladies was teasing a late bloomer whose eager mother pushed her to debut a season or two too early. If one didn’t look too closely, one may almost think the girls were laughing with her, rather than at her, but Rose knew this was not the case. She knew from her own experience interacting with the “popular” crowd—sadly from the point of view of the ostracized girl—and also from the fact that her friend Emily was already on her way over to help the poor thing out.
Rose had to shake her head at all the things happening in that ballroom that most people saw but pretended they didn’t. She supposed the same would be true of the gathering she had attracted earlier. Everyone may have seen who the most interested parties were, but no one would dare acknowledge it publicly.
“Now then, Rose,” Lady Lancaster said. “About this book …”
“Hmmm,” Rose murmured, still watching Emily as she made quick work of the society bullies before pulling the younger girl aside for an encouraging talk.
“I would like to see it, dear.”
“See what?”
“The book…”
“Book?”
“Yes, Rose,” the duchess said, enunciating each word slowly. “It occurred to me, actually,” she said quietly, leaning in close to Rose, “that this information might be just what we need to bring a certain lord to justice.”
Rose watched as Lady Lancaster shifted her eyes to focus on someone across the room. Following her gaze, Rose saw that she was looking directly at Caleb Collicott, the current Earl of Shrewsbury.
Gasping audibly, Rose whispered, “Not Lord Shrewsbury!”
“Naturally!” Lady Lancaster replied, as if it were the most obvious thing of all.
Rose was stunned, but wasn’t exactly sure why. Certainly there had been many rumors about the lord and how he had gained his title, and Rose had to admit that where there was rumor there was invariably some smidgen of truth. Still, Caleb Collicott was Simon’s cousin, the younger brother of Frederick Collicott, the heir apparent of the late Earl of Shrewsbury. In fact, Frederick had held that very title for about three years before he unexpectedly fell ill and died, leaving the title and all that went with it to Caleb.
Rose had never particularly liked Caleb Collicott. Quite honestly the man made her skin crawl, but dislike aside, she really had no other reason to believe he would resort to murder to become the Earl of Shrewsbury. Although, if she took a moment to think about it, the idea did begin to gain merit.
She had noticed in the past that Caleb harbored much resentment for his brother, and if one were to look even further back, for his father, as well. Also, Rose had been in attendance at the dinner held at Shrewsbury Manse the night that Frederick became sick.
Within hours he was dead.
It was a shock to everyone, but especially those closest to Frederick—Simon and his family, his best friend Lord Pembroke, and his own mother…who passed away not long after he did, almost certainly of grief.
Surprisingly though—or perhaps not, in light of what she was now being told—Caleb did not exhibit any signs of surprise or even sorrow. In fact, if Rose were to closely examine what she remembered, she would say Caleb Collicott seemed more nervous than anything and prone to unexplained temper whenever anyone would mention his brother.
Eyes widening, Rose said quietly, “He killed his brother”—she turned to look at Lady Lancaster—“didn’t he? Do you think there is something in Dr. Orfila’s book that can help point us in the right direction?”
“That is what I am hoping, Rose dear,” Lady Lancaster replied. “Do you know of any way we could get in touch with the good doctor?”
Rose considered that. “It is possible my father could obtain Dr. Orfila’s information from his contact at the bookstore where he orders all of his books. They may be able to provide us w
ith Orfila’s publisher’s address, at the very least.”
“Thank you, Rose. I have a feeling this will turn into a mystery tailor-made for you to solve.”
Rose felt a tingle of excitement run up her spine at the thought of solving such an important crime. If she were successful her discoveries could be used to solve other cases of suspected murder. Never before had she been given the opportunity to put her book knowledge into such practice.
…
The duchess watched as Rose’s eyes lit up with a glow she easily recognized.
When her dear husband, the Duke of Lancaster, was alive, the two of them would work very closely together solving crimes for the war office. That inner glow of Rose’s was one of excitement and prospect.
Lady Lancaster knew very well that her husband had been a rare man who acknowledged and benefitted from the talents and abilities of his wife, despite the general belief that women should just look pretty and care for a home and family.
After he passed, Lady Lancaster was at her wits end with the boredom of life without him and it wasn’t until she created the Garden Society that she began to experience the hum of exhilaration again.
She considered herself a very lucky woman to have married such a wise and enlightened man. Therefore, in the midst of assigning intrigues and schemes to her girls, she also kept an eye out for any similarly minded men who might be good matches for the ladies.
Already she was seeing a nice romance develop between Hannah and Lord Pembroke, and Rose, she knew, was engaged to the young Simon Trumbull. Lately, in the course of the investigation Hannah was conducting, it was becoming clear that Simon was not quite the irresponsible ne’er-do-well he presented himself to be.
It is time to begin fostering that relationship, Lady Lancaster mused. A little interference from her might be just what that couple needed to get off the ground.
Chapter Two
Life is a long lesson in humility.
—The Duke of Lancaster
“Mr. Trumbull!” Lady Lancaster said gaily, when Simon finally reached them. “How nice to see you.”
Simon bowed grandly before Lady Lancaster and Rose and replied, “Not nearly as nice as it is to see you two lovely ladies.”
Lady Lancaster’s eyes narrowed knowingly, but the young man had already turned his attentions to the more susceptible Rose. “My dear Rose. How are you doing this fine evening?”
Rose, not one to be taken in by fancy words, also gave him a dubious look, but she replied, “I am well, sir. And you?”
“Splendid…I am simply splendid.”
Rose almost cast up her accounts when Simon followed this jolly declaration with a flirtatious wink. How on earth did other women find him even remotely charming? Since the age of five, Rose had been watching a perfectly sweet young boy turn into this…this sickeningly fake…rake.
Oh dear Lord, Rose thought, that one even rhymed. Now his revoltingly artificial behavior was inspiring abominably bad poetry.
The truth was, her connection with Simon was not a bad one…on paper. The Trumbulls were very well-off and very well-connected. In fact, Martin Trumbull was the younger son of the late Earl of Shrewsbury, Jacob Collicott. As a young man, due to an estrangement with his father, Mr. Trumbull began to use his mother’s surname, but he was considered a Collicott by society nonetheless.
The name change further expanded the rift between the late Earl and him, though Mr. Trumbull and his older brother Isaac Collicott remained close, Mr. Trumbull and his father never mended their relationship.
In the grand scheme of the family line, the feud was unimportant. For all intents and purposes, it was Mr. Trumbull’s brother, Isaac, who would be the next Earl of Shrewsbury and, after him, his eldest son Frederick would inherit. Mr. Trumbull was just “the Honorable” Mister and it was assumed he would remain as such.
Despite being untitled, as the Trumbulls were, the Collicott lineage was long and proud and Mr. Trumbull benefitted from such ancestry. On the other hand, Rose’s family title was fairly new, having been awarded to her grandfather in honor of his heroic deeds in the war.
The combining of the two families was beneficial to both sides. The Warrens would gain added—and much needed—respectability from a long and established lineage and the Trumbulls stood to gain a title in their family line should Rose and Simon bear a son prior to the passing of Rose’s father.
All in all, it was a good idea. When Rose reached the marriageable age of seventeen or eighteen, Simon would be approaching his mid-twenties. Time enough for him to have finished with school and experienced some of life before settling down into an advantageous marriage.
However, at one and twenty, Rose was still unmarried and Simon was still experiencing life.
While generally agreed to be handsome, Simon was tall—just over six foot—nicely built, with rugged good looks and gorgeous dark blond hair. Not that Rose had noticed…much.
However, every other woman seemed to find him immensely attractive, and he, them.
It was his roguish behavior that turned Rose’s stomach the most. What happened to men being admired for their gentlemanly behavior? So what if society thought reformed rakes made the best husbands? Rose would just as soon have an honorable man from the beginning.
Fighting the urge to turn tail and run, Rose flashed a desperate look to Lady Lancaster. Surely, the duchess would be able to easily extract her from this awkward situation.
But no, to Rose’s surprise, Lady Lancaster had no intention of letting their little tête-à-tête come to a quick end. “Mr. Trumbull,” she said, “I believe I hear a waltz beginning. Perhaps you should ask our dear Rose to dance?”
…
“Ah, yes…” Simon said haltingly, unable to believe that Lady Lancaster had suggested he dance with Rose. Usually when he poured on his charm, the older ladies did everything in their power to keep the young impressionable girls away from him. Of course, he was engaged to Rose, so perhaps that accounted for the woman’s unusual decision.
Turning to Rose, Simon saw that she too was surprised by the dowager’s recommendation. She also appeared displeased by it. Most young ladies fawned over him and when he asked one to dance, they would practically swoon with delight. But Rose seemed almost disgusted by the idea.
Pride pricked, Simon came to a decision. This dance would be the best Rose had ever experienced—one she would never forget.
Pulling himself up straight and tall, Simon adopted the most sincere mien he could and asked, “Rose, may I have this dance?”
Rose nodded and accepted Simon’s arm and together they walked to the dance floor.
Soon they were moving gracefully around the ballroom floor…in complete silence. Rose was gazing absently over Simon’s shoulder and Simon was trying in vain to come up with something witty and interesting to say.
While deciding to impress Rose enough for her to never again regret having to dance with him, Simon took a moment to get a better look at his betrothed. Something was different about her tonight, but he just couldn’t put his finger on what.
The truth was, except for the last few weeks when he had taken to avoiding Rose, they had danced at least once at every ball. And in that time, and in all the years growing up, Simon had seen Rose…he knew he had…and yet tonight he seemed to be noticing her for the first time.
Taking stock, Simon noted all the things he knew about her.
Wire-rimmed spectacles…he didn’t know what age Rose had been precisely when she had started to wear glasses, but she had been quite young. Now, after so many years, they seemed a part of her. They were small and round and, honestly, they suited her. Many women considered wearing spectacles a detriment to one’s looks, but Simon rather thought Rose wouldn’t be Rose if she weren’t wearing them.
Hazel eyes…yes, he remembered very clearly her eye color. The memory of her huge eyes filling with tears when she was five seemed burned into his memory. Certainly tonight it was the flickering candlelight that
made them appear more green than the muted gray-brown he remembered.
Red hair…of course Simon knew Rose’s hair was red. It had darkened bit by bit over the years from a strawberry blond to a more vibrant ginger, but since when had it turned so fiery and…er…enticing?
“Did you do something different to your hair?” he blurted out. He almost kicked himself for voicing that question aloud. He wanted to be smooth and debonair, not one of her girlfriends, for God’s sake.
Rose smiled. “Yes, actually…my maid, Janice, styled it a bit differently than usual.”
To his astonishment, Rose seemed to like that he’d asked about her hair. And now that she was looking up at him, Simon was able to notice a few more things about her that he didn’t think he had before. Perhaps it was the shiny red curls framing her face that made her skin appear so luminescent and soft, but that didn’t explain why her lips were suddenly so full and ripe and just begging to be kissed.
Simon had to shake himself over that last thought. He should not be thinking about kissing Rose…anyone but Rose…but try as he might he couldn’t think of why he shouldn’t. It’s not as if she is your fiancée or anything, he thought drily. Why shouldn’t he want to kiss her?
“Simon?”
“Hmmm?” Simon vaguely heard Rose say his name, but he was still trying to figure out this new and unexpected impulse.
“Simon?”
“Yes, I am listening,” Simon responded automatically.
“Simon!”
This time Simon noted the somewhat frantic tone to Rose’s voice and he stopped his mental musings to truly look at her. It was then that he realized they were the only two left on the dance floor.
He wasn’t exactly sure when the music had stopped, but judging by the way Rose was blushing (very becomingly, he could not fail to notice), it had probably been somewhere around the first Simon.
Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) Page 2