Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous)

by Hemmerling, Catherine

  When he reached the empty hallway, Simon paused to determine the best place to find some privacy. Luckily Miss Jardin was there—who would have thought that would ever be considered lucky, he thought—and she was able to point him in the direction of an empty room off of the main hall.

  “In here, Simon,” Sarah said.

  Simon looked at her askance. He was quite sure he had not given Miss Jardin leave to call him by his given name, but now did not seem like the time to bring that up. Besides, she was clearly a good friend of Rose’s, so it seemed an inevitability that she—and frankly, her entire gaggle of friends—would be calling him such soon enough.

  Not wishing to remain in a public area any longer than necessary, Simon hurried into the room Sarah had pointed out. As fortune would have it, the library had a fainting couch and Simon was able to lay Rose down upon it. He knelt beside her and used his fingers to brush tear-dampened strands of hair from her face. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  Rose nodded jerkily but was clearly still too upset to speak.

  When she tried, Simon pressed his fingers to her lips and said, “Don’t speak. Just try to calm down. Everything will be fine. I will talk to my parents tomorrow about…about nullifying…the marriage contract.” Simon thought just saying the word nullify would kill him, but he was beginning to realize that Rose’s happiness was far more important than his own.

  Rather remarkable, that.

  Rose let out a strangled gasp and began shaking her head frantically. “N-n-n-n, n-n-n—” Finally she gave up and just flung her arms around Simon and began kissing him with all her might.

  To say that Simon was surprised by Rose’s sudden decision to kiss him would be the understatement of the century, but he certainly wasn’t going to argue about it. He was, in fact, rather enjoying it. In fact, it wasn’t long before the roles reversed and he became the aggressor. Again, no argument was heard.

  …

  Lady Lancaster quietly came upon the group and watched with amusement as the young people expressed their concern over their friends.

  Alexander turned to the group and said, “Well, that is the friendliest breakup I have ever had the pleasure to witness.”

  Emily hit him on the arm.

  Alexander raised his hands. “What?”

  Shaking her head, Emily proceeded to push and shoo David and Alexander out of the room. The gentlemen put up a token resistance, but it was clear that there was nothing seriously wrong with Rose—and certainly not with Simon—so they finally gave up and left. They nodded at the duchess, but as of yet, the ladies had not noticed her.

  Rose and Simon were still locked in their passionate embrace and showed no signs of stopping any time soon, so Hannah whispered to Sarah, Emily, and Hope, “Perhaps we should go?”

  “We can’t leave them here alone!” Sarah whispered back. “Who knows what he will end up doing to her. She is clearly in no condition to say no…as we all just witnessed.” Sarah motioned to the couple in exaggeration to indicate what happened when Rose had tried to say no just moments earlier.

  “She does have a point,” Hope acknowledged.

  “Fine, then what do you suggest we do?” Hannah asked in some exasperation.

  “Where’s a water pitcher when you need one?” Sarah said.

  “I really don’t think we need to resort to that quite yet, ladies,” the duchess intoned from behind them.

  “Lady Lancaster! You scared the wits out of me,” Emily gasped, putting a hand to her chest.

  “Yes, well, then perhaps you should go sit down and rest for a while in the ballroom…your friends here can help you. And I suggest you spread the word that Rose is suffering from a headache and imply that she simply fainted during the dance and Mr. Trumbull is aiding her.”

  The duchess looked pointedly at all of them and, amid a chorus of whining and moaning, the ladies left the room.

  Once she was alone with the clearly oblivious couple, Lady Lancaster shut the door firmly behind her and clapped her hands loudly in an effort to intrude as modestly as possible upon the lovers’ private moment. When that didn’t seem to work, the duchess cleared her throat and became more ruthless in her approach. “Mr. Trumbull, Rose! I must ask that you stop that at once.”

  …

  Simon, having been fully aware of his audience the entire time he was kissing Rose (but not particularly caring), realized that Lady Lancaster could not be ignored as easily as the other on-lookers. So, with much regret, he slowly broke off his kiss with Rose.

  Very slowly. So slowly, in fact, that to the casual observer he looked as if he were still kissing her. Which he was. Shorter, less involved kissing to be sure, but there was still much meeting of the lips.

  “Ahem!”

  “Arrgh, fine,” Simon groaned against Rose’s lovely, pliable, clearly kissable mouth. He lifted his head to confirm that Rose was no longer crying, but was in fact smiling. Indeed she almost seemed on the verge of laughter. He found he couldn’t be too upset, either, in light of the fact that apparently Rose did not want their engagement broken.

  “Now, then,” Lady Lancaster said. “Perhaps you could tell me exactly what is going on here?”

  Simon looked at Rose and Rose looked at Simon. They were both grinning at each other with large goofy smiles. Then Rose peeked over Simon’s shoulders to look at Lady Lancaster and then back at him. She cocked her head to one side and motioned in the direction of the duchess, as if to say, Shall we?

  Simon sighed deeply and began to face the indomitable duchess, but before he had quite turned away from her, Rose leaned forward quickly and whispered in his ear, “I love you too, by the way.”

  Simon whipped back around to look incredulously at Rose. “Really?”

  Rose’s eyes were shining with more tears—and love, such unbelievable love—as she nodded ardently.

  “Oh, Rose…” Simon sighed, leaning in for another kiss.

  “Mr. Trumbull!” Lady Lancaster said loudly and Simon’s head snapped back up. Amazingly, he had forgotten for a moment that the duchess was there. He closed his eyes in mock defeat and got up from the floor where he was kneeling in front of Rose and instead sat next to her on the couch. She smiled at him and nothing in the world could have stopped his smile in return.

  “Judging from the looks on your faces, I gather everything is all right?” she asked drily.

  “Oh, yes,” Rose replied, eyes brimming over with happiness.

  Simon just kept grinning.

  “Hmph,” Lady Lancaster grunted. “You do realize that if you two weren’t already engaged, that little scene out there would surely have resulted in such?”

  Simon looked at Rose and shrugged. Clearly that particular consequence was fine with him and he was quite sure with her, as well.

  The duchess sighed, rather like a long-suffering parent. “And regardless of the fact you are currently engaged, I would highly recommend you marry sooner than later, after that spectacular exit.”

  “I will certainly give that some thought, my lady,” Simon replied. He was beginning to become a bit annoyed by the woman’s concern about something that was between Rose and himself.

  Lady Lancaster narrowed her eyes at Simon but said nothing else on the subject. Instead she said, “I suggest we return to the ballroom together. Perhaps entering with me will lend a little respectability to your actions.”

  Simon was about to tell the dowager what she could do with her respectability, but Rose grabbed his arm and looked at him with pleading eyes. “She’s right, Simon. If nothing else, it will appease my parents. Because as much as I want to marry you, I don’t necessarily think we should do it next week. Do you?”

  Why not? Simon found himself wondering, but he would rather have that conversation with Rose in private, so he nodded grudgingly in agreement and stood. He then turned to help Rose up and she immediately went to the small round mirror, which was hanging on the ornately and intricately carved wood paneled walls, to see about her ap
pearance. Luckily, all that Rose had to do was re-pin the cap in place and she appeared none the worse for wear.

  Once she had completed that task, Rose turned to face Simon and Lady Lancaster. “I’m ready,” she announced.

  Lady Lancaster nodded and then glided majestically from the room.

  Rose looked ready to melt back into his arms, which Simon would have fully supported if they hadn’t reached the ballroom just then and discovered that their entrance had caused a hush to fall over the room and every set of eyes to be trained on them.

  Lady Lancaster smiled grandly at the party guests and she leaned in to give Rose a kiss on the cheek. While she was there, she whispered to Rose, “You need to say good evening to Mr. Trumbull now, dear.” Then she straightened with the same regal expression on her face.

  Rose turned to Simon and did as the duchess suggested. “Good evening, Simon,” she whispered, followed by a proper curtsy.

  Simon remained politely impassive when he said, “Good evening to you, as well, Rose. Thank you for the…er…dance.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss, but when he went to release it afterward, he found Rose would not let go. Looking deeply into Simon’s eyes, Rose said very deliberately, “The pleasure was all…mine.”

  When she said mine, it was after a significant pause and in such a husky whisper that she could only have meant one thing. Simon felt a stab of pure lust in his loins, which was followed by an immense feeling of joy everywhere else. Never before had he been so happy to hear her say—out loud, with purpose—the nickname she used to have for him. And hearing her say it made bidding her good-bye so much easier.

  “I shall call upon you tomorrow,” he promised.

  Rose nodded and then allowed Lady Lancaster to draw her away from Simon and deliver her to her parents.

  Simon watched them depart with poignancy. Nothing had gone right that evening—from his initial encounter with Rose, to their ill-advised dance, to the expressions of their feelings for each other—but for the life of him he couldn’t remember ever having such a wonderful night.

  He was young and in love…and, as fate would have it, the girl he loved actually loved him in return. How marvelous, indeed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Plan in the present to enjoy a good future.

  —The Duke of Lancaster

  It was well after noon when Rose woke up the next day to the sound of someone knocking on her door. Simon? she thought frantically. She hopped out of bed and then groaned as she eased herself back down to a sitting position. Lord, but she was still sore from her excursion with Simon the other night; though judging by where she was most tender, she suspected the real culprit was what happened after the outing.

  Blushing at the thought, Rose had just decided movement was the best remedy when she heard another knock at the door. “Yes?” Rose called out, expecting Chauncy to alert her of Simon’s arrival.

  Instead the door flew open and Lady Holderness swept in holding what appeared to be a ball gown. Rose quickly drew a blanket about herself. “Mother!”

  “Rose, dear,” Lady Holderness trilled before coming to an abrupt halt. “Oh my, are you just getting up?”

  “Ah…yes,” Rose said weakly. “I was especially tired after last night’s dance, I guess.”

  Lady Holderness immediately laid the dress over the armchair by the door and hurried over to press the back of her hand against Rose’s forehead. “Are you still not feeling well? It would be a shame to miss the Alvanley ball!”

  “The Alvanley ball …” Rose echoed in dismay.

  “Surely you have not forgotten the ball, Rosebud! It is certain to be the party of the season,” Lady Holderness scolded, before leaning in to whisper, “I heard that Prinny, himself, may attend!”

  The Prince Regent, “Prinny” as his intimates called him, was an impulsive, pleasure loving gentleman given to extravagance and excess. As the next King of England, he carried traits that Rose perhaps thought were not the most desirable, but who was she to say? In any case, the ball had slipped her mind, which was surprising, because as her mother had said, it was supposed to be the grandest event of the season. Everyone who was anyone was planning to attend.

  “Everyone who is anyone,” Rose repeated softly to herself. Including Caleb and undoubtedly William and Hannah!

  Suddenly Rose was hit with the certainty that the ball was where Caleb planned to strike next. It would be perfect. Not only was it an almost foregone conclusion that William would be in attendance, there would be hundreds of people around causing all sorts of distractions and diversions. It would be so easy to simply slip something in a person’s drink or food and be lost in the crowd before anyone even realized what had happened.

  She needed to tell Simon. Now. There was no time to wait. For all she knew, he may have remembered the ball and decided to talk to her there, rather than coming here first. The timing was obviously tight, as her mother was already there telling Rose she needed to prepare for the party.

  Rose would send him a note immediately. That would ensure he stopped by her house first. In fact, she would ask him to be her escort, Rose thought sensibly. Then they could leave directly from her house. And early…they should arrive at the Alvanleys’ as early as was socially acceptable. They needed to be able to track Caleb’s every move once he made his appearance and to do that they needed to get there first. Rose wrapped the blanket around herself sarong-style and made her way over to her writing desk, where she hastily penned her missive.

  “Primrose, darling,” Lady Holderness enquired, “does this mean you are feeling better?”

  “Yes, Mother, I am quite well, but I thought I might ask Mr. Trumbull to accompany me to the ball tonight.”

  “What a splendid idea, Rosie! Give me your note, dear, and I will send a footman over forthwith. In the meantime, I found this positively stunning material when I was out shopping the other day and I had Madame fashion you a gown out of it.”

  Rose’s mother once again held up the diaphanous sea foam green dress that she had carried into the room earlier. It was truly magnificent.

  “Oh, Mother,” Rose gushed, for once giving in to her girlish tendencies, as she handed her mother the letter and reached out for the gown. “It is gorgeous! Thank you ever so much!” Rose held it up against herself and twirled around in front of the mirror. The gauzy green dress did wonderful things for her skin and it was the perfect foil for her hair. If she hadn’t already caught her man’s attention, this dress certainly would do the job. It wouldn’t hurt to keep his attention, however, Rose thought with a grin.

  “I will send Janice up to help you dress, dear,” Lady Holderness said, leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her, but Rose was still too absorbed in her new dress to pay her much mind.

  Janice was just finishing Rose’s hair when Chauncy announced the arrival of Mr. Trumbull.

  “Oh, thank you, Chauncy!” Rose exclaimed. “Will you please tell him I will be right down?”

  “Certainly, miss.”

  Once Chauncy had left her room, Rose impatiently waited for Janice to pin the last few locks of her hair in place. She had purposely requested a long flowing style, since Simon seemed to really like her hair and, surprisingly enough, its color.

  Once Janice declared her hair a masterpiece, Rose jumped up and did a final review of her appearance in the mirror. As she suspected, the dress her mother had commissioned for her suited her coloring perfectly.

  It was a gloriously deep shade of mint green silk with an airy, whisper light layer of pale mint muslin over the top. The waist began just below the breasts in the empire style that was so popular this season and was lined with a two-inch-wide silk ribbon in the same dark sea foam green color. The sleeves were short and puffed and edged in three rows of delicate lace. The same lace edged the bottom of the gown and a single row was stitched around the low scooped neckline.

  Rose wondered at the lowness of the neckline, but Janice assur
ed her it was not in the least bit vulgar and Rose allowed herself to be convinced, if for no other reason than the thought of witnessing Simon’s face when he saw her dressed thusly.

  She was extremely excited about seeing Simon again, but nervous as well. What did one say to a man who had seduced her completely with unbridled passion and pleasure and then told her he loved her in the middle of the dance floor? Just the thought of their behavior caused Rose to blush hotly.

  Shaking off her embarrassment, Rose realized now was not the time to retreat into her formerly shy and timid self. There was a murderer to catch and she would need all her wits about her to stop him…or at least to help stop him, Rose admitted wryly.

  Squaring her shoulders, she took one last look at herself in the mirror. She certainly didn’t look like the typical Bow Street Runner, but then she wasn’t trying to have Caleb arrested just yet, she only wanted to prevent another poisoning. And to do that she would need to blend in…and how better to blend in at the fanciest ball of the season than in a truly splendid dress?

  With a curt nod to herself, Rose hurried downstairs to meet Simon. She had been a bit longer than the fifteen minutes a gentleman expected to wait for a woman and she didn’t want him to think there was anything wrong.

  …

  Simon was beginning to think something may be wrong. While it was typical for a woman to make a gentleman wait a quarter of an hour—God forbid she appears anxious to see me, he thought drily—before making an appearance, Rose did not usually stand on such principles and as it was now somewhat longer than fifteen minutes, Simon wondered if everything was quite as it should be. Surely Rose was not having regrets about last night? Frankly, last night had been the best of his life and Simon truly hoped that Rose felt the same. Otherwise, the trip he had made to the jewelers that afternoon would have been for naught.

  Simon was saved from having to dwell on that unpleasant thought for long, for just seconds later he heard the soft patter of footsteps coming down the stairs. When he turned to look, he felt as if he had completely lost the ability to breathe.