by Cheryl Holt
Oscar had begun to believe that Summerfield would eventually be his. He could practically see himself seated in the big chair at the desk in the library.
According to Stanley’s prior wife—who’d been crude and spoiled and very, very vocal about her unhappiness with Stanley—he was incapable of performing the marital act. Stanley was too proud to admit it, but Oscar knew the truth.
There was no way Stanley could sire a babe on Miss Ralston, and regardless of how he paraded her around, regardless of how he boasted their wedding was pending, no date had been set.
What did that mean?
Supposedly, Stanley was impatient to marry immediately, but one of Stanley’s cooks was extremely devout, and she regularly reported to Oscar on the goings-on in the manor. There had been no talk of Stanley’s wedding among the servants, no orders from Stanley to prepare for the celebration.
Why not? Why the delay? Wasn’t he in a hurry?
Oscar had once taunted Stanley that Miss Ralston would have to conceive by immaculate conception, and he hadn’t been joking. If Miss Ralston turned up with child, Stanley couldn’t have planted it. Oscar was sure of his facts and determined to prove Stanley’s deficiency. Oscar just had to figure out how.
He wouldn’t be cheated out of his inheritance. Not by Stanley. And most definitely not by Miss Ralston.
“I’ll find out what’s happening,” he muttered to the cold, dark night. “If I hear you’re increasing, Miss Ralston, I’ll dig and dig until I uncover the truth. You have my word on it.”
He clicked the reins and drove off.
CHAPTER TEN
“Egypt, really?”
“Yes.”
James glanced over at Lucas. They were discussing Rose who’d suddenly become his favorite topic. He couldn’t get her out of his head.
“That’s an exotic personal tidbit,” Lucas said. “Why were her parents in Egypt?”
“They were missionaries.”
“I had a cousin whose parents died in Egypt when she was little. Or maybe it was India. I don’t remember.”
James frowned. “How could you not remember something like that?”
“There was some trouble—with my relatives there always is—so they’d been disowned or disliked or some such. We never mentioned them.” Lucas brightened. “You don’t suppose she’s my cousin, do you? It would be hilarious to find out we were kin but hadn’t recognized the connection.”
“She’s an orphan,” James told him. “When her parents passed, she didn’t have any other family.”
“Poor girl. No one to claim her, and now, only Stanley to wed her.” Lucas gave a mock shudder. “Do you imagine he will?”
“He insists he wants to.”
“What about her? She doesn’t appear to have many options.”
“No. Her plight makes me glad I’m a man. You and I can just pick up and leave. It’s so much more difficult to be a female.”
They were in the main parlor, having a lazy afternoon whiskey and gazing across the park. Out on a groomed path, Rose and Veronica were walking and chatting. He should have leapt up and joined them, should have rescued Rose from Veronica’s adolescent prattle, but he couldn’t stir himself.
In their bonnets and shawls, they were very fetching, especially Rose who was wearing a green gown that was the exact color of her eyes.
Since she’d arrived, she’d worn only her drab schoolteacher’s dresses, and he couldn’t stop watching her. He couldn’t guess where the money had come from for the purchase, but it fit perfectly and flattered her in every way.
From the first, he’d thought she was very striking, but in the new garment she was even more stunning. The realization disturbed him, and he couldn’t discern why. He wasn’t blind. He knew she was attractive, so why obsess?
“I had the strangest conversation with Stanley this morning,” Lucas said.
“What about?”
“He practically begged me to stay at Summerfield for awhile. Is he ill?”
“No, why?”
“I’ve been trying to make sense of his request. He loathes me. Why would he ask it of me?”
“He wants me to stay,” James explained. “He’s figuring if you don’t leave, I won’t, either.”
“Why would he want you to stay? He doesn’t like you much more than he likes me. Originally, he seemed eager to be shed of both of us.”
“You talk as if I have a unique insight into the man’s thinking processes. He’s always been unfathomable.”
“Yes, he has, so what’s his game? Is he scheming on you for some reason?”
“If he is, I’m not aware of it.”
James chuckled and sipped his drink, his attention focused outside on Rose and Veronica. He couldn’t let Lucas notice his expression.
For all Lucas’s sloth and ineptitude, he was actually very astute, and he’d known James forever. If he had any idea of the conflict roiling within James, he’d have jumped on James in an instant and forced him to spill all.
Although James had informed Stanley that their bargain was off, it was obvious Stanley was hoping to keep it percolating. No doubt in his convoluted mind, he expected proximity to ignite a romance between James and Rose.
The great problem with the scenario was that it skirted very close to the truth of the situation. Where Rose Ralston was concerned, James was just as despicable as Stanley. He constantly ruminated over the fact that she was all alone in the world, that there was no father or brother to protest any ill treatment.
She was lonely and looking for an amorous adventure before life dealt her more painful blows. It would be easy to convince her she should engage in some naughty flirtation.
He should have left for London at dawn, but he hadn’t, because he felt something wonderful could happen to them. Absurd as it sounded, it seemed Fate had thrown her into his path, and he shouldn’t walk away without getting to know her in a more intimate fashion.
It was madness. It was lunacy. It was all rolled up in his peculiar, disturbing relationship with Stanley. Privately, James couldn’t help preening over the notion that he could have her in ways that Stanley would never be able to manage.
In a sick, twisted manner, James wanted to take Rose from Stanley—even though seduction would hardly be taking her. He simply couldn’t abide the prospect of Stanley ending up married to her. It galled. It infuriated, when James couldn’t comprehend why.
He had no intention of marrying her himself, so why would it matter if she wed Stanley or anyone?
“I saw Veronica’s breasts,” Lucas suddenly said.
“You what?”
“I made her show them to me.”
“You did not.”
“I did.”
“Bared?”
“Yes, and I can merrily attest that they’re quite fine.”
James rippled with irritation. “Didn’t I tell you to be careful? I wasn’t joking. She’s a tart.”
“She definitely is.”
“She could get you in all kinds of trouble.”
“I warned her right up front that it was futile to try.”
“Well, her stepfather might decide it was worth it to ensnare you. If he caught you fooling with her, there’d be hell to pay.”
“It wasn’t my fault. She asked me to go into the woods with her.”
“And you just went? What are you, a dunce? You’re twenty-five and she’s eighteen. Have some sense. You couldn’t say no?”
“Why would I have?”
They were sitting side by side in their chairs, and James reached over and whacked Lucas on the arm as hard as he could. The blow jostled Lucas’s drink, and he nearly dropped the glass on the floor.
“What was that for?” Lucas grouched.
“For being an idiot,” James chided.
“I may be an idiot, but I saw her partially unclad. The virginal little vicar’s daughter is chaste as a nun, so I consider it a huge victory. Besides”—he flashed a sly grin—“she’s not interested i
n me any longer.”
“Why is that? Did she figure out you’re a horse’s ass?”
“No. I set her sights on someone else.”
James frowned. “Who?”
“You.”
“Me! Are you mad?”
“She was desperate to know if you were sweet on her, so I told her you were.”
James snorted with disgust. “You are too annoying to be believed.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“Just stay away from her. Please?”
“I will. The first encounter was thoroughly disagreeable.”
“So there’s no reason for a second one.”
“Gad,” Lucas groused, “you sound just like my father.”
“With how you’re acting, I’m beginning to have some sympathy for him.”
“If I wanted to be scolded like a disobedient boy, I’d trot home to Sidwell.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I can’t go now. Stanley needs me to remain at Summerfield. I couldn’t bear to disappoint the old fellow.”
James rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he’ll be eternally grateful.”
“I’m sure he will be too.”
Lucas stood and started out, and James said, “Where are you off to?”
“I thought I’d say hello to Veronica.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, then, I’ll flirt with Miss Ralston. She’s crazy about me.”
“She is not. I told you she doesn’t like you.”
“Yes, but since then I’ve ingratiated myself. She’s wild about me.”
The notion of Lucas flirting with Rose was enormously vexing. James stood too, and they walked into the hall together.
“Why don’t you leave both women alone and find a trollop in the village?”
“I’ve met all the trollops in the village. They don’t amuse me in the least.”
“Then ride to the next village and look for some over there.”
“I might.”
“And let’s depart for London in the morning.” James felt overwhelmed by temptation and crushed by the need to be away. “It was our initial plan. We never intended to tarry here.”
Lucas considered, then shrugged. “As you wish. We can go or not. It makes no difference to me.”
“Good.”
They went to the foyer, and when Lucas turned toward the rear verandah so he could step outside and chat with Rose, James steered him in the other direction.
* * * *
“I’m so glad you’re at Summerfield,” Veronica gushed.
“I am too,” Rose replied.
She kept her smile firmly in place, not certain if the comment was a lie. She’d thought she hated the estate, that she was angry and ashamed, but maybe she wasn’t. Maybe the fling in her room with James Talbot had changed her mind.
She’d assumed she was too smart to involve herself in a romantic entanglement, but maybe she wasn’t. It was highly likely that she had no sense at all.
They were strolling in the garden. She hadn’t actually wanted to socialize with Veronica, but when Veronica had stopped by it would have been rude to decline.
The more time she spent with Veronica, the clearer it was that they didn’t have much in common. Rose was seven years older, and Veronica was nearly the age of Rose’s prior students. When Veronica prattled on and on, Rose felt ancient, as if she was back at Miss Peabody’s school and listening to a pupil.
“My mother died many years ago,” Veronica said.
“Yes, I had heard that.”
“There’s never anybody to talk to about my concerns or difficulties.”
“It must be hard, living with your stepfather.”
“It is! It is! Mostly, if I have questions about an important subject, our housemaid is quite brilliant in her advice.”
“It’s a bit tricky, though, gossiping with the hired help. I’m certain you know to be careful.”
“Usually, she’s the only one in the house.”
“That would present problems.”
“But now, you’ll be marrying Stanley, so I can come to you instead.”
Rose simply nodded, neither confirming nor denying any pending nuptials. She’d promised Mr. Oswald her discretion, and whatever else might transpire between them, she wouldn’t betray his secrets.
“I hope I can be as brilliant as your housemaid,” Rose facetiously said.
“I’m positive you will be.”
Rose peeked over at Veronica, and there was a slyness in Veronica’s eye, as if she didn’t like Rose or expect she’d be brilliant at all. Rose ignored Veronica’s pettiness and continued walking.
They were headed back to the manor, and shortly they’d be inside. Rose would make an excuse about having an appointment and send Veronica on her way.
“What is it you’d like to discuss with me?” Rose inquired.
“You have to swear,” Veronica warned, “that you won’t tell a single soul.”
“I won’t. You have my word.”
“This conversation must be private.”
“I understand.”
With each passing second, Rose was reminded more and more of her students. At Veronica’s age, every incident that occurred was grand or tragic. There wasn’t any middle ground in their swings of emotion.
“It’s about a boy,” Veronica explained.
“A boy…well!”
“Not really a boy. A man.”
“What man? Is it anyone I’ve met?”
Veronica leaned nearer and whispered, “James Talbot.”
“Mr. Talbot…” Rose kept her expression blank. “I see.”
“He’s wild about me.”
“Is he? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know? Has he confessed his feelings?”
“Not directly to me. No.”
“Then what makes you think he’s smitten?”
“I talked to Mr. Drake. I asked him if I had a chance with James.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said yes, absolutely.”
Suddenly, there were so many issues swirling that Rose couldn’t decide where to start.
Veronica was much too young and naïve to fraternize with a bounder like Lucas Drake, and she was out of her league with James Talbot too. And there was the problem with Rose and her budding attraction to James.
Rose was closer in maturity and temperament to James, and he’d been completely eager to misbehave with Rose. She hadn’t doubted that he was beginning to like her as much as she liked him.
A wave of jealousy swept through her, which was ridiculously misplaced.
She was scarcely acquainted with James, had no claim on his affection, and didn’t want to have a claim. She’d frolicked with him in order to learn what the amorous fuss was about. It had been like a scientist conducting an experiment. She’d tested the waters, found them pleasant, but didn’t intend to try again. Still, she had to bite down the comment, He’s mine. You can’t have him, you fool!
She took a deep breath and let it out. Took another and let it out too.
“So…what are you asking me?” she cautiously ventured.
“I’ve known him since I was tiny, when he’d come home for visits from the army. He’s always treated me as if I was a bothersome little sister.”
“I can see how that would happen.”
“But I’m all grown up now. Mr. Drake says James has noticed.”
“Has he?” Rose tightly said.
“Yes.” Veronica seized Rose’s hands and squeezed them. “Do you suppose he’ll speak to Papa Oscar about me? Is there a way to find out? That’s what I’m dying to discover. How should I proceed under these circumstances?”
“All right.” Rose forced herself to seem calm and wise. “I have many pieces of advice for you.”
“I figured you would!”
“First, I don’t believe you should spend any time with Mr. Drake.”
Veronica frowned. “Why not? He’s like a big brother to me.”
“Yes, but you mentioned how you’ve grown. You’re not a child anymore.”
“I’m so glad I’m not!”
“You need to be more careful. You need to guard your reputation.”
“Well, that’s silly. How could I harm my reputation by chatting with a man I’ve known for most of my life?”
“It’s just”—Rose paused, struggling to locate the proper words—“different once you’re older. You can’t carry on as you did when you were younger.”
“And what about James? How can I learn what he’s thinking?”
If Rose had had a thousand years to ponder, she couldn’t picture Veronica and James together, and she hated to crush the girl’s romantic fantasy. But honestly!
“You probably shouldn’t count on Mr. Talbot.”
“Why not? Mr. Drake was very clear.”
“Yes, but has Mr. Talbot shown any inclination toward you that’s changed?”
Veronica thought and thought, then admitted, “No.”
“Then you must be patient. If his fondness blossoms, you’ll know immediately.”
“I can’t bear any delay! I want it to occur very fast, so I can marry and move to London with him.”
“My! What a grand plan.”
“I don’t belong in this stupid town. Neither does James. He’s the perfect husband for me.”
“It’s fun to dream, isn’t it?”
“It’s no dream,” Veronica firmly stated. “It’s meant to be. It’s simply a matter of time before it all works out.”
“I hope you’re right,” Rose lied.
Up on the verandah, the door opened, and James stepped outside.
Veronica gasped and murmured, “He saw I was here! He came out to speak with me!”
Rose bit down another caustic reply. He came to see me. Me! Not you!
Yet she couldn’t say so aloud, and after her conversation with Veronica, she wasn’t sure of anything.
Was James smitten with Veronica? Could he be announcing his affection for Veronica to his friend, while dabbling with Rose in the dark of night? Was he that crass? That cold-hearted?
Rose hadn’t a clue how to judge his true feelings.