Lady Rosabella's Ruse

by Ann Lethbridge

  Her shivers had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. It was in her heart she felt cold, in her bones. ‘You don’t want to marry me any more than I want to wed you—why not wait until we are certain there is a child? If there is not, we can go our separate ways.’

  An odd expression passed across his face—not anger, it was too hard and cold for that. His lip twisted a fraction, but she had the feeling his scorn was not aimed at her, but rather at himself, as if she’d touched a sensitive spot. ‘You were willing to be my mistress. Why not my wife? You will not find me ungenerous. You will have whatever you want. Jewels. Money. Whatever your heart desires, within reason.’

  Within reason. What fell within the realm of ‘within reason’? ‘I have debts. Responsibilities. More than you know.’

  ‘I see,’ he said in a chilly voice.

  ‘You don’t see. My sister was ill. I borrowed from a moneylender to pay the doctor and their school fees. I needed a singing role to pay him back.’

  ‘As your husband, your debts become my debts. Your responsibilities become mine.’

  ‘It would be a marriage of convenience.’

  ‘Yes.’ He seemed not to see anything wrong with it.

  ‘I wanted a love match.’ Spoken in relation to this man it sounded ridiculous. She stared at him defiantly and, heaven help her, secretly hoping.

  ‘There you go again.’ He shook his head with a grimace of distaste. ‘All women spout about is love, when all they need is a man who will provide the necessities of life.’

  ‘By necessities I assume you mean food and heat and a roof. What about a man who will be faithful and true? A man who will share joys and sorrows? A helpmeet?’

  He shifted as if the very idea made him uncomfortable. ‘Without food and heat and a roof, a person cannot survive. Especially not a child.’

  ‘A child cannot survive without love.’

  At that he laughed outright. It had an ugly ring to it. ‘I don’t know who filled your head with such tales, but children survive all the time without love. Use your head. Look around you. Men only care about satisfying their lust and getting an heir. If they could do the last without getting married, they would.’

  ‘It broke my father’s heart when my mother died. He loved her and he loved his children.’

  ‘Then why make no provision for you?’

  Silent, she stared at him.

  ‘He should have,’ he said. ‘But not out of love. Out of duty and honour. Love is merely a figment of overwrought female imagination.’

  ‘You are awful,’ she whispered, but the cold feeling spreading into her stomach was the fear he was right. Fear that the love she remembered, clung to, held on to like a child clinging to its mother, was all her own creation.

  A myth.

  ‘I simply tell the truth,’ he said.

  She would not let him destroy her beliefs. ‘You are wrong.’

  Another twist of his lips. ‘All right, then, name your price for this marriage. Anything in my power to give.’

  What she wanted most in the world was to know her sisters would have a future. Have the chance to choose a man for love, not out of desperation. For Sam to see a doctor without fear of the debtors’ prison looming over their shoulders. Could she give up their futures while she searched for the perfect man? A man who would love her back, when she had so much love inside her to give.

  It wouldn’t be fair to them, when she could solve everything right now.

  And for her there would be physical passion with this man. Nights like tonight. She’d been attracted to him from the first, and if what she’d thought was love was merely infatuation, if she never let it become more than that, wouldn’t it be more than bearable? Wouldn’t it be more than many women of her class experienced?

  He must have seen the weakening of her resolve, her acceptance, because he stroked her shoulder, a sort of solace because he knew she’d give in.

  He looked just too smug about her succumbing to his superior male logic. A hot buzz built up in her veins. Anger. The same anger that had driven her to the moneylender, so she would not have to listen to the doctor lecture her about the money she owed.

  An anger tainted with the desire to salvage what little pride she had left.

  ‘You spoke of giving me whatever I wanted in exchange for this marriage. These are my terms, then. Pay my debts. They are considerable. Pay for a come-out for each of my sisters and provide them with a reasonable marriage settlement and I will agree to be your wife. But if there is to be no faithfulness on your side, then there is no need for any of this.’ She gestured vaguely at the bed.

  As he stared at her, the gleam in his eyes an acknowledgement that he’d won, a slow seductive smile curved his beautiful mouth. Her insides clenched, unable to resist his allure.

  ‘I will agree to all but the last,’ he murmured. ‘As my wife, I expect you in my bed.’ The smile broadened, became wicked. ‘I promise I won’t force myself upon you, but I defy you to resist me.’

  Her unruly stomach tumbled over. Resisting him seemed to have been out of the question from the moment she saw him on Lady Keswick’s terrace. But she would not submit without a fight. ‘Nothing you can do could induce me into your bed.’

  ‘Are you so sure?’ He bent his head and brushed her lips with his. Softly. Sweetly. Her heart tumbled with longing.

  Longing for more than physical attraction.

  It was not to be. And for the sake of her sisters, she must endure.

  She turned her face away. ‘Very well. If that is part of the price, I will agree. But I want our agreement in writing.’

  He laughed. ‘Good for you. It seems you have learned something after all.’

  Instead of learning about love, she had learned the art of striking a bargain, if she dared trust him to keep his word. Her father hadn’t kept his word and she’d trusted him. A bitter taste filled her mouth. ‘Then once the contract is signed the matter is settled.’

  Cold enveloped her.

  Garth really couldn’t blame her for her misgivings or her wariness. He’d done his best over the years to ensure that even the most desperate of matchmaking mothers wouldn’t accept him, even if he crawled on his belly.

  Fortunately, she’d shown him the cards in her hand and he’d played to them. Debts.

  Large enough to make her desperate.

  Even so, she’d bravely held her ground for longer than he had expected. Was there something behind her reluctance? Had Penelope revealed the circumstances of his birth? Mark knew. Had he told his wife? His back teeth ground together. Dammit, he didn’t care if she knew or not. The agreement was set.

  She could think what she liked of him. He’d had his unworthiness drummed into him since he was a child. No woman had the power to hurt him, because he didn’t allow himself to feel. And if he produced a son as a result of his carelessness, then he’d find another way to make it up to Kit. He might be able to break the entail. It wasn’t as if his brother was relying on the title or the land, it had just seemed the right thing to do. A way of making up for stealing his brother’s birthright.

  He glanced down at his wife to be. She looked none too happy. Might as well deliver all the bad news. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right. ‘About the singing.’

  She looked hopeful.

  ‘If you want your sisters to make good marriages, it is out of the question.’

  Her face fell. The urge to comfort her took him by surprise.

  ‘There are lots of hostesses who have musical evenings. Once they hear your voice, I am sure you will be invited to sing, not for money admittedly, but people will want to hear you nonetheless.’

  He hoped. Most of the ton’s hostesses shunned him as if he carried a disease. His own fault. Once he’d learned the truth about his birth, he’d shunned them and their trumped-up mores.

  He would have to tell Rosabella that he wasn’t exactly considered good ton, but not until after the wedding. He wouldn’
t give her an excuse to refuse him. Which was madness, since he should be glad she didn’t want to wed him. No. Not madness. No child of his would suffer what he had gone through.

  ‘Or we could have our own,’ she said more cheerfully. ‘You could invite your friends.’

  His friends, most of them, were not the sort of men he wanted meeting his wife. He would have to enlist Mark’s help.

  Or he could ask his mother.

  He’d sooner be roasted on a spit over a slow fire than ask his dear mother for anything.

  Too bad Kit had left England. He was probably the one person who would be happy to help, even if he was the person who should resent Garth the most. But Kit was abroad, so Mark it was. He hated asking his friend for help, when it seemed he had troubles of his own.

  ‘If you are having second thoughts,’ she said, pulling her nightgown on over her head, ‘I really would be quite happy to rejoin the opera company.’

  Could she read his mind? He gritted his teeth. ‘I am not having second thoughts. I am just thinking about the best way to go about this.’

  She leaned down and picked her discarded dressing gown from the floor. She turned her back and put it on, effectively distancing herself. He pretended not to notice, but rose naked from the bed and picked up his robe from the chair. He shrugged into it.

  ‘First thing in the morning, I will visit your grandfather and request his permission to wed you.’

  ‘Why? He cares nothing for what I do.’

  ‘Because it is expected and right. And it will help stem malicious gossip. I assume he has guardianship of your sisters until they are of age?’

  ‘No. He wanted nothing to do with us when my father died. I am their guardian.’

  The whole thing was odd. To leave a young woman with so much responsibility and no wherewithal to carry it out. No wonder she had debts. ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Three and twenty.’

  She said it as if that made her a woman of the world. ‘You are little more than a child.’

  She shot him a glare and he wanted to laugh, but decided against it. He had her where he wanted her and women were unpredictable when their tempers were aroused. They threw things or cried. He hated tears. ‘Then we’ll ask for his blessing, if not his permission. He’ll give it, because he won’t want his name bandied around as the man who let his granddaughter be ruined.’

  Suspicion filled her expression. ‘Do you have enough money to make good on your promises right away? My sisters’ need is urgent.’

  ‘I do. Give me a list of your debts first thing in the morning and my man of business will see to them immediately.’ Kit hadn’t kept his financial brilliance to himself and his generosity had filled Garth’s coffers very nicely, despite an expensive and dissolute lifestyle. He’d made sure of it for Kit’s sake.

  ‘Thank you.’ The words sounded heartfelt and full of relief. A considering expression crossed her face. ‘There is one other thing you could ask of my grandfather.’

  Ah, here it came. The real reason for her sneaking around in Gorham Place. ‘What?’

  ‘My mother’s chest and my father’s writing desk. I’d like to have them as mementos.’

  Surprised, he stared at her. Why would she want old furniture? Mementos of parents who had abandoned her? He shrugged. ‘I’ll ask.’

  She glanced around his room. ‘Am I to stay at your house until we are married? It would probably be better if no one knows I am here. Unless you think it won’t matter?’

  He hadn’t thought. And it did matter. She would have enough trouble with the high sticklers, without throwing their odd arrangement in their faces. ‘You are right. We will have to keep your presence here a secret. You won’t be able to be seen in public until we are wed, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Won’t your servants gossip?’

  ‘You will find them very discreet.’

  ‘I suppose they have to be.’

  A niftily placed barb. He gritted his teeth. ‘Indeed.’ He glanced down at the pile of rags on the floor. The breeches and shirt she’d worn from the theatre. ‘Where are the rest of your clothes?’

  ‘I only brought one gown with me from Lady Keswick’s house. It is at my lodgings in St Giles, with my valise.’

  ‘I’ll collect it in the morning.’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Now, sweet betrothed of mine, let us go back to bed.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not until after our contract is signed.’

  The hackles on the nape of his neck rose. ‘Are you afraid I won’t keep my part of the bargain?’

  ‘Is it likely?’

  She didn’t trust him and he didn’t blame her one bit. ‘No. Not likely, until I am tired of teaching you the art of lovemaking. That isn’t going to happen for a very long time.’ He brushed her mouth with his, then nipped her lip.

  For all that she was trying to hide her desire, her eyes grew slumberous.

  His body sprang to life. Impossible as it seemed, he was more than glad he was marrying this woman, even if it did ruin his plans.

  All he had to do was make sure he didn’t take any chances. Keep firm control and spend outside of her body so if it turned out she wasn’t with child, everything would be perfect. He could have what he wanted and still keep to the promise he’d made to himself the night Christopher left England.

  He gazed at her lovely face. She looked weary, as if she hadn’t slept well for many nights.

  He reached out and took her hand and led her to the bed. ‘Lie in my arms and sleep. Tomorrow we will begin our explorations anew.’

  He felt exceedingly pleased when she smiled and let him help her on to the bed. He wasn’t a boy without control; he could lay with her, enjoy the feel of her, without touching.

  In time, she would come to trust him.

  Garth awoke with a start to the sound of a clock chiming six somewhere below. His usual time to awake no matter what his activities the night before. He generally went riding in Hyde Park before it became crowded with people wanting to talk.

  He rolled on his side to watch Rosabella curled up facing him, her cheek pillowed on her hand, breathing deep and untroubled. She looked like a child. Twenty-three. Viewed from his years of profligacy, she was terribly innocent, yet seemed much older, more self-assured than most of the débutantes he’d carefully avoided all these years.

  A smile tugged at his lips. Clever enough to catch him in her web of lies and deceit. Why didn’t he care? Not that he’d let her deceive him again.

  In winning her over, he’d made some promises that would not be easy to keep. No riding today. First he’d visit Mark and, depending on the outcome, would move on from there.

  He hopped out of bed and went to his dressing room, where his valet was already waiting.

  ‘Good morning, my lord,’ Callen said.

  ‘Good morning, Callen. The lady in my bed is to be treated with the utmost respect since she will soon be your mistress and my wife.’

  Callen’s jaw dropped. ‘Y-yes, my lord.’

  ‘I will inform the other servants on my way out.’

  Callen bowed and began stropping the razor. ‘May I offer my congratulations, my lord?’

  Garth looked at him for a minute. Tested whatever it was unfurling in his chest. The pleasant knowledge of sharing his life, his hopes and ambitions, as well as his bed. Waking up beside Rosabella had apparently filled a void he hadn’t known existed.

  Surprised, he sat down in the chair in front of the mirror. ‘Yes, Callen. I believe congratulations are indeed in order.’

  After a visit with his man of business to ensure he had enough ready funds on hand to pay off Rosabella’s debts when he received her accounting, Garth found himself at Mark’s front door in Golden Square, confronting his friend’s cheery butler. ‘His lordship isn’t available to callers.’

  Garth forked over a crown. ‘Nonsense, Steed. He’ll see me.’ He pushed inside the door.


  ‘Wait here,’ the butler said, pointing to a carved wooden chair against the wall. ‘I’ll enquire if he is up.’

  Garth followed the man down the hall, practically stepping on his heels, and was through the dining-room door before the man could speak.

  Mark was eating breakfast, dressed and ready for the day. ‘Off to the Home Office?’ Garth asked, sitting down and helping himself to a piece of toast.

  Mark glared at him, then nodded at the butler. ‘That will be all, Steed.’

  The man withdrew and closed the door.

  ‘How’s the chin?’ Mark growled, setting his paper aside.

  Garth touched his jaw. ‘Never better.’ He reached for the coffee pot.

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you bring my wife home when you found her?’

  Still brooding about that. Still suspicious. Garth leaned back against the chair and grinned at the surly face of his friend. Mark had grown possessive since his marriage and Garth couldn’t resist the urge to needle him. ‘You mean you wanted me to manhandle your wife kicking and screaming into my carriage? Or perhaps you wanted me to seduce her into coming back to London with me?’

  Mark straightened. ‘You put one finger on my wife—’

  ‘I was more concerned about not allowing anyone else to put their fingers on her. Not that she showed any interest,’ he added hastily as Mark started to rise. He had no wish to drop Penelope in the soup. He didn’t care a fig about the girl. She was a stupid little chit who didn’t recognise a good man when she found one. They never did from his observation over the years. But he didn’t want to see his friend hurt so he kept his own counsel about Bannerby.

  Mark sank back on to his seat. ‘It’s a bloody mess. She refuses to say why she went there in the first place. Or who she was meeting.’

  ‘I don’t think she was meeting anyone. She turned up with Maria Mallow. You know what a troublemaker she is. Where were you?’

  ‘On a mission for the Home Office. I had to escort a woman to Yorkshire. She had information about these troublemakers at the mills. I had to talk to some people she knows.’

  ‘A woman?’