by Bree Wolf
“Would you excuse me, Father?” Rose asked, knowing that she would not be able to keep the emotions that this letter would surely elicit from playing over her face.
“By all means,” he said, his voice even despite the hint of suspicion that lay in his narrowed eyes.
Retreating to the drawing room, Rose sank onto the settee and for a moment simply stared at the letter in her hands. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she felt strangely reminded of Diana as though she were following in her cousin’s unfortunate footsteps.
Maybe she ought to destroy the letter without even opening it. Who knew what it contained and how the words within would affect her?
With shaking hands, Rose broke the seal.
Unfolding the single sheet of paper, she took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down. Her eyes settled on the neatly penned words, and she could not help but run her finger over the lines.
Dear Miss Lawson,
Please forgive my intrusion into your life; however, I feel the need to apologise for the distress I caused you. I implore you to believe me that it was not my intention to cause you any pain.
After a rather uneventful fortnight in London, I merely meant to reacquaint myself with the beauties of the British Museum the day we met. However, I am compelled to tell you that I was pleasantly surprised to meet a kindred soul in the very spot that has held my heart until now. Forgive me for being so frank; however I must speak my mind.
Would you allow me to call on you in order to renew our acquaintance?
Yours sincerely,
Robert Dashwood
Holding her breath, Rose stared at the words before her. Could she believe them? Or was he merely playing with her? Had her parents not happened upon them, would he have stolen Diana’s virtue that night in the gardens?
That thought instantly jarred Rose awake as the tender emotions that had begun to blossom in her heart were instantly squashed by the knowledge that she could never tolerate such a behaviour in the man who vied for her hand−if indeed his intentions were honourable, which was doubtful.
Voices echoed over through the closed door, and Rose looked up just as the door opened and Diana strode into the room.
Rather shocked to see her cousin, Rose shot to her feet and the letter slipped from her hand. “Diana,” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here so early?” Kneeling down, she reached for the letter as her cousin came to stand beside her.
“I came to apologise for the way I spoke to you last night,” Diana said, taking off her gloves and seating herself on the settee. “I know you only meant to help me.”
Quickly refolding the letter, Rose sat down beside her cousin. “Do not worry yourself,” she said as her heart hammered in her chest. “I could see how distraught you were.” Sliding the sheet of paper back into the envelope, Rose casually meant to deposit it on the side table when her cousin’s eyes shifted to the red wax seal.
Instantly, Diana’s eyes narrowed before they moved upward and met Rose’s gaze. “It is from him, is it not?” she gasped, her voice feeble. “He sent you a letter.”
Rose swallowed. “He did. But−”
“Why?” Diana asked, a hint of anger burning in her eyes. “Why would he send you a letter? He only danced with you once. You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t know,” Rose lied for the second time that day. “Please believe me, I did not encourage him.”
For a long moment, Diana simply sat beside her, her eyes distant. “You cannot trust him,” she whispered, and her eyes met Rose’s. “I was foolish enough to do so and…” She took a deep breath and for a moment closed her eyes as though trying to find the strength to continue. “He will do to you what he did to me, what he has probably already done to countless gullible girls like us.”
Like us.
The words echoed through Rose’s mind. Never had she thought herself cut from the same cloth as Diana. They had always been so different, were to this day, and yet, they had both fallen for the same man.
“I promise I will not allow that to happen.” Taking her cousin’s hand into hers, Rose looked at her imploringly. “Thank you for looking after me.”
The ghost of a smile flashed over Diana’s face. “You’re the sister I never had.”
“And you are mine,” Rose said, drawing her cousin into her arms.
Glancing at the letter in her hands, Rose knew that she should have burnt it without even reading it first. And although it was too late to keep that man’s words from touching her heart once again, it was not too late to rid herself of the letter.
Determined, she rose from the settee and strode over to the fireplace. “To a happy future,” Rose said, meeting her cousin’s eyes. “For the both of us.”
And with that, she dropped the letter into the flames.
Goodbye, her mind whispered, and her heart ached.
Chapter Seven − A Chance Encounter
As the days dragged on without a reply from either his brother or Rose, Charles thought he would lose his mind. Never before had his own studies failed to occupy his mind to such an extent that everything else simply faded away in comparison.
Since he was no longer considered a member of the Royal Society nor the Society of Antiquaries, Charles set out and headed to White’s. Usually, he rarely spent time at the exclusive gentleman’s club due to the most prominent topics discussed there: politics and gambling. However, without other options, he welcomed the chance to distance himself from the constant questions that assaulted his mind day and night.
Upon walking through the door, Charles found himself the object of quizzical looks and raised brows, which was not surprising since his brother had not been a frequent member of White’s either considering that it was an all men’s club.
Trying his best to blend in, Charles ventured from room to room, here and there listening in on the conversations and spending a few moments watching the Earl of Kindham beat his brother at billiards. However, Charles never lingered for a long time because neither distraction served him well as his mind continued to venture to the one woman whose determined rejection plagued him.
“I am so glad to be back in London,” old Lord Tennally laughed. “Country life does not suit me at all.”
Stopping, Charles glanced around the room, his eyes shifting from one gentleman to another, trying to remember their names if he knew them at all. Since they had run in different circles before, he could only conjure a handful of names. The other men, however, at least looked familiar−mostly.
“Last week’s ball was quite a success. I’ve rarely seen so many lovely ladies in one place,” another gentleman, whose youthful face suggested that he was still unmarried and searching for a wife, chimed in.
Many agreed whole-heartedly, and the ball as well as its female attendees were discussed at length. Bored, Charles only listened with half an ear, his eyes gliding over the many paintings decorating the walls when one comment suddenly had his head snap around.
“Her name is Rose Lawson. I believe this to be her first Season.”
“I’ve never heard of her.”
“Her father is the late Baron Cuthwill’s second son, a real history enthusiast.”
“I’ve heard his daughter is a lot like him.”
“What a shame! She is quite beautiful.”
“Why would you care about her interests? As long as she’s−”
“Radcliff!” Lord Tennally rebuked the young man harshly. “Mind your manners!”
Radcliff, however, laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “All I’m saying is that considering her beauty, I do not mind her interests.” Looking around the small circle of men, he raised his eyebrows. “This might be her first and only Season.”
As laughter echoed through the room, Charles turned on his heels and left.
Sick to the stomach, he walked the streets of Mayfair without direction, without thought for where he was going. All he could think about was Rose.
Even though she migh
t never accept his hand, his stomach turned upside down at the thought of her marrying a man like Radcliff.
Anger boiled in his veins, and he felt the sudden and irresistible need to strike the man down.
Stopping in his tracks, Charles drew in a deep breath, shocked at his own reaction. Never before had he experienced anything like it. What was she doing to him?
“You look troubled,” a familiar voice spoke out behind him, and Charles spun around.
Coming to stand before him, Mr. Lawson’s eyes narrowed as he regarded him with open curiosity. “Very troubled,” he corrected himself. “I hope it is nothing serious if you don’t mind an old man prying.”
Somewhat taken aback and yet glad for the company, Charles sighed. “Honestly, I do not know.”
“A woman then?” Mr. Lawson asked and laughed when Charles averted his gaze. “Either that or you’ve reached a dead end in your research.”
Charles smiled. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“I am,” Mr. Lawson admitted, gesturing for Charles to fall into step beside him. “I frequently feel the need to leave the house and clear my head. It helps me to focus.”
“Where are you headed?”
“Nowhere in particular. I simply walk around until brilliance strikes,” Mr. Lawson continued, and a grin came to his face, “or I feel too tired to walk on.”
The two men continued on in silence for a few minutes before Mr. Lawson asked, “Is it my daughter?”
As though someone had punched him in the face, Charles’ head snapped around and he stared at Mr. Lawson open-mouthed.
The older man chuckled, “May I take this as a confirmation?”
Charles swallowed, regarding the other man carefully before he nodded. “You may.”
“May I ask what troubles you?”
“Your daughter does not care for me,” Charles admitted, feeling strangely liberated at confiding in her father. “She’s made her disregard for me perfectly clear.”
“I see,” Mr. Lawson mumbled, his eyes distant as though only half-aware of Charles’s presence. Then a youthful grin spread over his face, and he slapped Charles on the shoulder good-naturedly as though they had known each other for years. “Why don’t you come to supper tonight, and we’ll discuss this further?”
Thunderstruck, Charles stared at him.
“Some friendly advice,” Mr. Lawson whispered, leaning in conspiratorially, “others will only believe you worthy of their affections if you believe yourself to be.”
Smiling, Charles nodded. Although he was far from the charmer that his brother was, Charles had never been insecure around the fair sex. However, ever since he had taken on Robert’s identity, he had felt unsteady in his dealings with the rest of the world.
“Does that mean I may order another place setting tonight?” Mr. Lawson asked.
“Yes, you may,” Charles said. “I’m looking forward to it. Thank you.” Although he doubted that Rose would receive him with a smile, he could not bring himself to pass up the opportunity to see her again, especially considering the intimate setting.
After exchanging their calling cards, Charles headed home, his heart a million times lighter.
***
Turning the page, Rose sighed, realising that she could not recall details of what she had read in the last half hour as her mind was too occupied with a certain gentleman she tried her best not to think about.
Defeated, Rose closed the book and rose from the settee. Walking over to the windows that opened up to the quiet street running the length of their townhouse, Rose stared into the distance, unaware of the people walking by on the pavement.
Therefore, she did not see her father return from his walk. Noticing her standing by the window, he stopped and gave a quick wave. However, when she failed to respond, he climbed the stairs and entered the house.
Only when the door to the drawing room opened and his voice reached her ears did Rose become aware of his presence.
“You look thoughtful,” her father observed, sinking into the armchair by the fireplace. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket, he dabbed his forehead, his breath slightly quickened. “It is days like these that make me feel old,” he mumbled, and Rose smiled, shaking her head at him.
“You look refreshed, Father,” Rose declared, and a grin spread over her face as he met her eyes.
“Do not mock me, Child,” her father chided, a humorous twinkle in his eyes. “Are you not aware that you’re supposed to respect your elders?”
Re-taking her seat on the settee, Rose looked at him in bewilderment. “Of course I am. If you point one out to me, I shall be most respectful indeed.”
Laughing loudly, her father shook his head as the earnest expression Rose had forced on her face cracked, and she bit her lower lip, trying to hide the smile that wouldn’t be denied. “My dear Rose, you are truly one of a kind.”
“Well, I suppose we are more alike than we ever thought possible.” Watching the laughter lines on her father’s face deepen, Rose cleared her throat. “Tell me, Father, what put you in such a great mood?”
Wiping a tear from his cheek, her father sat up and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. “My walk was quite enjoyable. In fact, I met an old acquaintance.”
“You did? May I ask whom?”
Holding her gaze for a moment, her father said, “Lord Norwood.”
As the remnants of a smile slid off her face, his gaze remained fixed on hers, observing her carefully.
Noticing his watchful eyes, Rose cleared her throat. “How nice.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “You dislike him.”
“Well…” Rose drew a deep breath. She had feared this would happen. Despite her decision to end their connection, that man had found a way to embed himself into her life, and now, she was forced to lie to her father on an even deeper level. For how could she explain her aversion to Lord Norwood if not with the truth?
“Has he been disrespectful towards you?” her father enquired.
Rose sighed. Not towards her. But towards Diana. “No, he has not. However, that man has a most scandalous reputation.”
Lifting his arms off his belly and settling them on the armrests of his chair, her father humphed. “Personally, I’ve always believed that one ought not to allow others to define one’s own opinion. Frankly, I am astonished to hear you rely on rumours spread by people you have no deeper connection to.”
Her father’s open reproach stung, and Rose felt the strong need to defend herself. Of course, she did not base her opinion on hearsay; what she knew she knew due to a very intimate connection. However, she could never betray Diana by revealing her secret, and so she remained quiet.
“My own observations,” her father continued, “lead me to believe Lord Norwood to be a forthright and truly honourable man. I welcome his quick wit and honest opinion, which is precisely why I invited him to dine with us tonight.”
For a moment, Rose doubted her ears. However, when she met her father’s calculating gaze, she swallowed, and her heart skipped a beat as the meaning of his words sunk to her core. “You invited him for supper? Tonight?”
“I did,” her father confirmed, rising from the chair. “I thought you might enjoy some company.” Smiling at her, he turned to leave. “Do not worry, my dear. For even if he does have a scandalous reputation, my presence ought to guarantee your safety.” Chuckling, her father left the room.
Shaken to her core, Rose closed her eyes and, bending her head, rested her face in her hands. For a moment, she concentrated on drawing one deep breath after another into her lungs, afraid to allow her thoughts to venture to the consequences of her father’s invitation.
Consequences? She wondered. Of course, Diana would learn of the invitation and be less than gracious in her reaction. However, despite her inevitable anger, Rose would be able to defend herself against her likely accusations. After all, her father had been the one to issue the invitation, not her.
Nevertheless, the
more she thought about Diana, the more Rose realised that her mind merely attempted to distract her from the one thing that truly unsettled her.
Would he be able to shake her resolve? Could she spend an evening in his presence and resist his charms?
Despite feeling disgusted with herself for admitting this, Rose knew that she felt strangely drawn to him. Ever since that day at the museum, he had been in her thoughts and dreams. Not a day passed that she did not relive the dance they had shared or the feel of his hands resting on her shoulders, his deep eyes searching hers.
Even just remembering him, Rose could feel herself respond. Her heart jumped with joy, and a myriad of butterflies took flight in her belly.
Groaning, Rose shook her head, wondering about the disaster that night would bring.
Chapter Eight − A Night to Remember
“You seem less troubled,” Mr. Lawson observed, offering him a glass of brandy while they waited in the drawing room for Rose. “Quite the contrary, in fact.”
Charles smiled, taking a sip. “My spirits have indeed improved thanks to your kind words and even kinder invitation.”
Elated at the thought of seeing Rose that night, Charles had spent the afternoon contemplating his options. Despite her open hatred of him, Mr. Lawson was kindness personified, honestly concerned about Charles’ well-being. In turn, that observation had led Charles to believe that whatever had caused Rose’s dislike of him, she had not shared her reasons with her father. Being ignorant of them himself, Charles could not help but wonder why.
Therefore, he was determined to further his relationship with Mr. Lawson and attempt to redeem himself in his daughter’s eyes. Hopefully, she would come to see him for the man he was and not the reputation he now possessed.
For the next half hour, Charles talked to Mr. Lawson about the man’s work on deciphering the Rosetta Stone until the door opened and Rose appeared.
Complementing her auburn hair, shining almost golden in the candlelight, Rose wore a dazzling gown in a deep midnight green that honoured her name, making her look like the beautiful rose she was. Or rather a brilliant Rose, Charles corrected himself as his eyes met hers, and he read in them the same curiosity and intelligence that had so bewitched him the day they had met at the museum.