“I thought of that earlier, actually,” Simon said, “when I was speaking to Caleb in the garden.”
“You did?” Rose said, clearly impressed with his forethought.
“Yes, and apparently he is planning to attend the Yorke house party,” Simon revealed. “Rose, did you receive an invitation to that event?”
Rose wrinkled her brow in thought. “I don’t think so. I went through all of the invites we have received just this morning and there wasn’t one for a house party.”
“Hmmm, it’s strange that Caleb would receive an invitation to a party that you or your parents would not receive,” Simon said with some confusion.
“Ah, Trumbull,” William cut in, “that’s not quite true.” He looked at the younger man pointedly and Simon realized that the earl was quite correct. There were certain parties that mainstream members of the ton would not be privy to. These types of parties were rife with debauchery and depravity and only the most notorious of London elite would be invited to attend.
“Gentlemen,” Rose said drily, “do you care to expand on what Lord Pembroke meant by that?”
“Oh, Miss Warren, please call me William. I think we are friends enough to forgo such formality,” William said, clearly hoping he could change her focus from the house party.
“Thank you, William. And you must call me Rose,” Rose replied politely, before skewering him with her unwavering gaze. “Now, friend, will you kindly tell me what is going on here?”
“Rose, Rose,” Simon jumped in, “it is nothing. Pembroke was simply alluding to a more private party than you would typically experience during the season. They are not the sort of thing that, ah, everyone would enjoy.”
Simon felt as if his cravat suddenly seemed much too tight. He had been to such a party—or parties, if he were being completely honest—in the past. They were the type of event that young men consider a rite of passage, but his interest in them quickly waned and now he would never consider attending such a gathering again.
But frankly it didn’t surprise him that Caleb was still interested in the less-than-moral soirees. They were known for their discretion, which meant men and women could behave as wantonly and promiscuously as they pleased. It was also an environment where people with different, ah, predilections could indulge their baser instincts if they so desired.
Rose appeared to be considering Simon’s words very carefully. It must seem odd to her that someone would throw a party that not everyone would enjoy, but Simon hoped she would just take his words at face value and not read anything more into it.
“Fine.” Rose sighed finally. “How can we learn more about this house party without an invitation?”
“Ah, it’s possible I have an invitation to the Yorke’s party at home, actually,” Simon confessed.
“I see,” Rose said, looking at him with an arched brow and pursed lips. And Simon had a sinking feeling that she did, in fact, see. Despite his attempts to keep her in the dark about the type of party it was, Rose had figured it out. At least enough for her to immediately think the worst of him for being invited.
“Obviously, I had not planned on attending,” Simon assured her.
“Obviously.”
William, clearly feeling the shift in the mood of the room, decided that perhaps now was a good time to make his leave. Standing, he said, “Well, I believe we are done here. I should probably, ah, go.”
“Coward,” Simon muttered.
William just grinned. “I will see myself out. Rose, it was a pleasure. Trumbull…good luck.” And with that the Earl of Pembroke departed.
Simon watched as the man quit the room and he rather wished he were going with him. When he turned back to Rose, he found she was still looking at him frostily and he wondered if he could get out of this particular situation with another kiss.
“Hmph.”
Simon assumed that sound was meant to imply that nothing he could say at the moment would be important, but rather than test that theory, he decided he should just say his good-byes and hope that when they met again at the ball, she would be in a more tolerant mood.
He gathered up their drawings and stuffed them unceremoniously into his jacket pocket as he stood. “I suppose I should be going too. We both have a dance to dress for. I will look for the, um, invitation when I get home and see if I can determine how long we can expect Caleb to be gone. We can talk more about the plan tonight, if that is acceptable?”
He looked at Rose and she nodded once in acknowledgement.
Again Simon thought he should say something, but nothing of worth came to mind. Better to leave now than possibly make things worse. Right?
“Good afternoon, Rose.”
Without waiting for a response Simon was sure would never come, he took his leave.
Chapter Twelve
There is something to be said for non-verbal communication…no pun intended, of course.
—The Duke of Lancaster
From across the ballroom, Simon watched Rose talking animatedly to her friends, Emily and Sarah. She looked lovely in her mauve gown, which brought out the rose in her cheeks—even from across the room.
Although, he supposed irritably, her flushed appearance could be from all the dancing she was doing. It seemed that every man in the room had taken a turn around the dance floor with her and yet he could not even drum up the courage to go say hello.
He thought he saw her glance his way during her quadrille with David Rochester, but within a blink she was looking elsewhere and he wondered if he had imagined it. He really needed to just go over there and talk to the girl. The sooner he found out how she was feeling, the sooner he would know how to behave around her. He would very much like to get back to the kissing phase of their relationship as soon as possible, if he were being honest.
So much for keeping my hands off her, Simon thought, kicking himself mentally.
Squaring his shoulders, he headed across the room to speak with his fiancée. Before he was even halfway there—the Abingdon ballroom was one of the largest in the London area, after all—he saw Emily grab Rose’s arm and nod in his direction.
…
Rose turned to look and when she saw Simon striding toward her, her heart leapt in her throat.
It is about time, she thought with exasperation. He had been watching her from the back of the room all night. In fact, she had just been arguing with Emily and Sarah about the wisdom of approaching him herself. Of course, Emily had advised against it. Apparently a lady never chases after a man, but that was easy for the prettiest girl of the season to say. Every man in the room was chasing her, save a few married ones, and even they couldn’t seem to keep themselves from looking.
Frankly, had Rose not taken the initiative of involving him in her intrigue earlier in the week, she was quite sure she and Simon would still be going along with absolutely nothing to say to each other.
But it appeared the point was now moot as the gentleman in question was finally coming to her. She found her gaze drawn to his and the intensity she saw in his eyes caused her breath to catch. Any negative thoughts she may have been harboring all faded away in an instant.
…
Within moments Simon was at her side and the two stood there staring at each other for what could have been forever, except for the glaring fact that Rose’s two friends were standing next to them, gawking openly.
Simon turned to give Emily and Sarah the most pointed of looks. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, clearly implying they should leave forthwith.
Therefore he was quite disappointed when Sarah replied, “Yes…you can. You can explain why it took you all night to come over here.”
Emily had the decency to look a little aghast at her friend’s forwardness, but that lasted only the briefest of seconds before she reconsidered her stance and began nodding in agreement and looking at him expectantly.
Ah, yes, Simon thought. This was Miss Sarah Jardin, the young debutante with absolutely no verbal filter.
He had heard other men, in particular David Rochester, speaking of her and her mouth…and not in the way most men discussed a female’s mouth.
For some reason David had a soft spot for his sister’s awkward friend and could always be counted on to ask the girl to dance, which was, in Simon’s estimation, something worthy of a medal. One did not return from a dance with the tall clumsy Miss Jardin without being hobbled in some way.
In addition to her abominable dancing, Miss Jardin was also known for saying exactly what she thought when she thought it, regardless of the situation. He remembered her comments at the dinner party he and Rose had hosted. Simon had actually found her outbursts somewhat amusing then; tonight he had a feeling he would not be so amused to be on the receiving end of her unusual candor.
“I, ah,” Simon began uncertainly. He looked briefly at Rose, but judging from the way she was looking back, he suspected she was as interested in the answer as her friends. Taking a deep breath, he decided to stand his ground. “I’m quite sure that it isn’t any of your business,” he said in a tone that indicated the matter closed. Or so he thought.
“Oh, please,” Sarah huffed. “You didn’t honestly expect that to work, did you?”
“I rather thought it would, yes.”
All three women crossed their arms and stared at him.
“Fine!” Simon said, throwing up his arms in defeat. “I didn’t approach Rose immediately because when I left her company earlier today it was with a rather bad impression and, frankly, I wasn’t sure if she still wanted to have anything to do with me. Are you happy now?”
Sarah nodded slowly. “Yes, thank you.” She then turned to Rose with a knowing look and said, “And just what did he do to give you such a bad impression, hmmm?”
Emily’s jaw fell open at Sarah’s blunt implication and Rose blushed deeply.
“Ah, I see.”
“No, no, you don’t,” Rose rushed to say. “I…he…ah—”
“Say no more,” Sarah interrupted, holding up her hand. “Emily and I will leave you two lovebirds alone. It sounds like you have much to…talk about.” She winked suggestively and Emily groaned before pulling the taller girl away.
When he looked back at Rose, she was still flushed with embarrassment. She quickly said, “I am so sorry about Sarah. She sometimes doesn’t know when to be quiet.” At Simon’s arch look, she amended, “All right, Sarah never knows when to be quiet, but she does mean well.”
“It is fine, Rose, really,” Simon replied. “It’s nice that your friends care about you so much. And honestly, I should have come to talk to you the minute I arrived…I just didn’t think I could bear it if I found you were still disappointed with me. The truth is, I have done a lot of things in my past of which I am not proud. Recent events with Collicott—and with you, if I am being honest—have given me a lot to think about. I have begun to realize that your opinion of me matters, perhaps because we will be married someday. I would hate to think the progress we have made in our friendship may have been lost due to something stupid I have done in my youth.”
“No,” Rose admitted. “I find I am enjoying our new friendship as well. I should have told you earlier that I understood, rather than let you stew about it all evening…”
“But you probably felt I deserved it a little bit?” Simon finished for her.
Rose smiled and held her thumb and index finger apart about an inch. “Maybe just a little.”
Simon laughed and pulled Rose in for a quick hug, propriety be damned.
Rose blushed furiously, but Simon could see she was pleased by his impromptu action. And that pleased him. Good Lord, this was getting out of hand.
“Perhaps we should discuss our next steps in finding Caleb’s ring?” Rose said, thankfully distracting Simon from his dangerous thoughts.
“Good,” Simon said. “I managed to locate the invitation to the Yorkes’ house party and it is a three day affair, starting yesterday. Which means tonight is the best night to try and find the ring, for we cannot guarantee when Caleb will return home tomorrow.”
“That sounds logical enough,” Rose agreed. “So, what time will you be at my house tonight?”
“Your house?”
“Yes, you don’t expect me to walk to Shrewsbury Manse alone in the dark, do you?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Simon replied.
“You are taking me along with you, aren’t you?” Rose asked.
“Of course,” Simon replied. He would need her help locating the room, after all, but suddenly he wondered if he should be putting her in such danger. Great, now he was worrying about her safety. What was next? Falling in love with the girl? Simon waited for the overwhelming fear that afflicted him every time he was even remotely close to falling for a chit. It never came. That’s when his stomach clenched. When did possibly loving a girl stop making him panic?
Rose smiled cheerfully, clearly unaware of Simon’s private thoughts. “Splendid! I shall be ready at midnight. I will be hiding in the alder buckthorn on the southeast corner of the house.”
Simon groaned. This is a very bad idea.
“Will you be able to get out of the house all right?” Simon asked resignedly.
“Oh, yes,” Rose chirped. “I am very adept at climbing down the rose trellis under my window.”
This was definitely a terribly bad, insanely idiotic idea. “Should I even ask why you are so adept at climbing down the rose trellis?” Simon sighed. He shuddered to think of her using the trellis as some nightly escape route to God knows where.
“Nothing so tragic. Mother simply bought too much furniture during one of her sprees a few years back and the way to my room was blocked for a number of days. It seemed easier to climb the trellis—it is very much like a ladder, you know—than to tell my mother that her purchases were blocking the way to my room.”
Simon shook his head in astonishment. He had no doubt that what she said was true. No one could make up something like that.
“All right, Rose-love,” Simon said, the endearment rolling very naturally off his tongue and he immediately knew he needed to get out of there. “I will be by at midnight. I suggest you dress in dark clothing. It is only a short way to Caleb’s, but we do not want to chance being seen.”
“Oh, yes,” Rose agreed. “That is a great idea.”
“Then I shall see you then,” Simon said with a bow.
He gave Rose one last long look and then turned on his heel and walked out of the ballroom.
Chapter Thirteen
There is nothing quite like the thrill of the hunt.
—The Duke of Lancaster
At five minutes to midnight, Rose was climbing down the rose trellis outside her window. It had been a number of years since she had used the trellis as an exit and she was surprised by the amount of growth there was in comparison to the last time she had made the descent. It seemed every step was fraught with more thorns and vines that snagged at her clothing and attempted to thwart her endeavor.
Rose jumped down the last few feet to the ground. Once again on terra firma, she ran quickly to the corner of the property where a large alder buckthorn shrub grew. Crouching there, Rose waited. Simon would arrive shortly, she knew, but as she hid there among the branches, she was very glad she had borrowed one of David’s old childhood coats from Hannah. Her pelisse would have done very little good against the cold winter night.
“Rose?”
Rose broke off her rambling thoughts quickly when she heard Simon call her name from somewhere nearby.
“I’m here,” she whispered as she stepped out from behind the buckthorn.
…
Simon was standing just in front of the large shrub, partially hidden by its shadow. The moon that evening was large and bright and it provided a surprising amount of light, once one’s eyes adjusted. And once Simon’s eyes had adjusted, it took him barely a second to realize that Rose was not wearing what he expected her to be wearing.
She was dress
ed all in black, certainly, just as he had requested. However, where there should have been skirts cascading down from beneath what appeared to be a young boy’s overcoat, there were instead legs clad in breeches. Presumably from the same young lad’s closet.
“Rose…what, may I ask, are you wearing?” Simon asked with what he considered surprising calmness.
Rose looked down at herself. “It’s all dark, per your suggestion, is it not?”
“It is not the color that I am questioning, my dear.”
Smiling, Rose said, “Oh, these are some old childhood clothes of David’s…er, Rochester, you know. Hannah loaned them to me.”
“I see.”
Rose’s smile faltered slightly. “Ah, Hannah found them useful during a…er…nighttime excursion she went on recently and she thought I might find them beneficial, as well. Certainly, they will be more maneuverable, don’t you think?”
Rose proceeded to twirl around so that he could see the entire ensemble. As Simon watched, he caught a glimpse of her adorable derrière encased in the rather snug fitting pants and he thought he would expire on the spot from the desire running rampant through his suddenly rock hard body.
Groaning, he closed his eyes tightly and willed certain parts of his body to relax. When he opened them again, he found Rose staring at him with concern.
“Are you all right, Simon?”
“Not exactly,” he said roughly. He just had to avoid touching Rose while she was in her thoroughly enticing attire. If he touched her, he would be lost.
He had only caught a glimpse of the delectable curve of her buttocks when her whirling caused the edge of the overcoat to lift. If he were to see the rest of what promised to be a deliciously shaped body, he would have no choice but to take her right then and there under the alder buckthorn.
Running a frustrated hand over his face, Simon let out a ragged breath. Rose stepped forward with some alarm and was reaching up to caress his cheek when he caught her hand and rasped, “Not now, Rose…not now.”
Seeing the crestfallen look on Rose’s face was almost more than Simon could bear. Turning his hand to twine his fingers through hers, he lifted her hand to his mouth for a brief kiss.
Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) Page 10