Eventually Rosalind stopped wriggling, admitting defeat. She was embarrassed at the undignified way she was being held, her cheeks burning, from being upside down and the mortification she felt. The only consolation was that they were not within sight of anyone.
Peter felt Rosalind’s body sag against him. He would normally have released her and begged her forgiveness, but things had to change; he was sick of being the good person all the time. He waited for her to speak.
Eventually, Rosalind broke the silence. “Would you please put me down?” she asked.
Peter bent down and slowly raised her into the upright position. He kept hold of her arms to help steady her; she had been upside down for a few minutes. He prevented the smile spreading across his face; she was flushed, and her eyes flashed at him, but he could tell she was trying to contain herself.
“Thank you,” Rosalind said, stiffly. “Was there really any need?”
“I think so, or I would not have done it,” Peter replied.
“What are you hoping to achieve from this madness?” Rosalind asked.
“I want to stop the nonsense that has developed between the two of us,” Peter said, finally being able to speak. “I am sick of my family ultimately dictating what I should or should not be doing even though they are dead. It is ridiculous, and I’m going to stop feeling obliged to do the right thing all the time!”
Rosalind was wary of the way Peter was reacting. Since the first few days together she had realised what an even tempered man he was. He was not one for dramatics or anger, he was good, but this was different. He seemed to be struggling with pent up anger, and she was not sure what he wanted to achieve.
She tried to be consoling. “People like you for being who you are.”
Peter laughed a bitter laugh. “Yes they like me; they think ‘good old Peter’: he is the one who can be relied on. Well quite frankly I’m sick of it!”
“What do you intend doing?” Rosalind asked, a little afraid of what the answer would be.
“Things are going to change,” Peter assured her, his eyes flashing, challenging her to contradict him. “I am no longer going to be the pushover that I have been for the last twenty nine years. If I want something, I am going to have it; if I don’t like something, I am going to say it; and if people don’t like it, they can disappear from my life!”
Rosalind was not sure of how she fitted into this change of perspective, but was not about to ask. She continued to try and tread carefully. “I see; so there are going to be changes. What kind of changes?”
“For a start, I am going to resume relations with my wife,” Peter said, grabbing Rosalind’s arms and pulling her towards him. He wrapped her in an embrace before she had time to recover her balance. “I do not like you being distant, and I want it to stop.”
Peter did not wait for a reply: that was what a good man would have done; he was no longer being good. He pressed his mouth down on Rosalind’s firmly but not with the butterfly kisses he usually gave her. He felt her initial resistance, but he pulled her tightly against his body and deepened the kiss.
Rosalind’s initial reaction was to pull away, but that lasted barely a second before her heart lurched, and she wrapped her arms around Peter’s neck. She pulled on his hair, responding to him as she had never done before.
Peter groaned with pleasure but did not break the contact. He had wanted it for too long to release her so soon. He continued the kisses while discarding the shawl, allowing him unhindered contact albeit over the dress. His hands roamed her back, her waist and her bottom, squeezing and feeling the contours of her body. He had missed her so very much.
Eventually he pulled away and rested his head on Rosalind’s forehead; they were both breathing deeply. It pleased him to see how dilated with passion Rosalind’s eyes were. “I am still only learning how to be bad,” he said quietly. “I am not at the stage where I would take you in an open field, but don’t think I don’t want to.”
Rosalind’s eyes widened slightly, but her heart rate increased, something that she thought was not possible until it happened. She was not sure what had initiated it, but she quite liked the change. She reached up to the side of his face with her hand, tracing her fingers down his jawline. “I did not know how to make things better,” she whispered.
“The fact that you wanted to reassures me,” Peter said gently.
“I didn’t think you would ever accept me as your wife again,” Rosalind said, finally voicing her fears.
“Why did you leave me?” Peter asked, the rogue having disappeared as quickly as it had emerged and the true man emerging once again.
“The situation with Annabelle wasn’t going the way I had promised myself it would, and I didn’t know what else to do,” she admitted. “It was the worst few days of my life; I wanted your comfort, and instead I pushed you away.”
“Well, no more,” Peter said, kissing her gently. “Don’t do that to me again! Even if Grace wants to marry the stable-boy, stay with me.”
Rosalind laughed but soon became serious. “Sometimes I just don’t know how to be married,” she admitted. “I’ve been self-sufficient in so many ways, I am finding it difficult to share or rely on someone else.”
“We are both finding our way,” Peter said gently, “But we need to find our way together, or it will never work. We cannot live with the fear that you will run away every time you feel out of your depth.”
“I realise that now; I suppose I was angry, but I was also worrying about Annabelle. She’s shown me that perhaps I shouldn’t take everything on myself. My sisters are fully grown now and able to make their own decisions. I never want to feel as bad as I did in St Annes,” Rosalind said quietly, finally admitting a little of how she felt about him.
Peter kissed Rosalind, but her response was such that coherent thoughts soon left him. “I want you in my bed every night, but today I think we should return to bed in the afternoon; I think it would do us both the world of good,” Peter said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
Rosalind flushed but laughed, slightly shocked. “What would the staff say?”
“I don’t give a damn what the staff say, think or do, when it gets in the way of my pleasure,” Peter growled, resuming his passionate kisses.
Rosalind thought her knees were going to give way but, Peter was holding her so tightly it probably would not have altered her position. She could barely believe that he had forgiven her foolishness; not only that, he had missed her. The misery of the last days was disappearing with his every kiss.
Eventually they separated and started walking back to Sudworth Hall hand in hand. At first they were silent, both feeling happiness, relief and anticipation of the afternoon to come. Peter broke the silence, kissing Rosalind’s hand. “Annabelle has a good chance of being happy,” he said.
Rosalind frowned slightly. “I hope so, but in some respects it is an even worse start to the one that we had.”
Peter raised his eyebrows at her, “We are making it work though aren’t we?”
“Yes!” Rosalind said quickly. She was not about to start something that would result in further anguish between the two of them. “It just seems different; we married for a purpose, but they are married without that focus: it just seems a waste.”
Peter squeezed her hand gently, “Don’t forget that they were caught kissing,” he reminded her. “There must be some attraction, which is a good start.”
“Um,” Rosalind replied; she wondered what had really happened. Annabelle had not fully explained, and she would probably never know. She knew that Annabelle was of the age that she could make her own decisions, especially now she had a husband. It was time to let her sister go.
It was a relief when Sudworth Hall came into view. Rosalind had been correct; her boots were made for fashion not walking. They were ruined. They, along with her dress and petticoat, were probably beyond repair, but she would not have changed the morning for anything. To have cleared the air with Peter was worth
a dozen dresses.
They smiled at each other as they started up the steps at the front of the building. They might look a sight, but the afternoon was full of promise. Peter lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Come Duchess: Time to reacquaint ourselves.”
Rosalind’s heartbeat raced with anticipation, but she tried to control the smile when Bryant appeared at the door.
Bryant was looking unusually sombre, something which put Peter immediately on the alert. “What is it Bryant?” he asked.
“Your Grace, Baroness Leyland and a young lady are waiting for you in the morning room,” Bryant said.
Peter frowned; he wondered why Baroness Leyland was visiting. She had not been near since the ball: if she had come to gloat, she would get short shrift from him; he had other things to occupy his mind.
Rosalind interrupted his thoughts. “I shall join you in the morning room when I have changed,” she explained. “You may be able to appear with mud on your boots, but it would not be well received if I appeared so. I shall be as quick as I can.”
Rosalind left Peter to attend to Baroness Leyland alone. He took his time discarding his gloves and hat and straightening his neckcloth before walking into the morning room, hoping the meeting would be brief.
Chapter 21
The morning room was smaller than the drawing room and faced a different side of the garden. Since Rosalind had undertaken to improve the rooms, it was decorated with pea green walls and cream and pea green upholstery. Excess furniture had been removed with pieces left behind that fitted the fresh look of the décor. The room looked elegant and welcoming.
The two ladies who waited for him sat together on a sofa near the grey marble fireplace. Baroness Leyland stood as soon as Peter entered; it was obvious she was desperate to speak.
“Your Grace! I am relieved that I can finally introduce you to my companion. I wanted to speak to you about her on the evening of your ball, but events overtook us somewhat,” Baroness Leyland said with some glee.
Peter made his bow; he was on the alert. He had never liked the Baroness. “Madam,” he said coolly.
“Allow me to introduce you to my new friend, the Dowager Duchess of Sudworth,” Baroness Leyland said, stepping to one side, so that the seated lady could be seen.
“I beg your pardon? Is this some sort of joke?” Peter said sharply, before looking at the woman with more interest. She was younger than he, around five and twenty. She had black hair and olive skin; her features were pleasing, but she looked as if she had seen better times. Her clothing was of fine quality but worn. She returned his gaze, obviously wary about the meeting, but there was also defiance in her expression.
She looked at Peter, before replying in a heavily accented voice, “This is no joke.”
Baroness Leyland looked between the pair and was silent for a moment or two, wishing to build the tension in the room. She eventually smiled, obviously enjoying herself immensely. “I am sorry to spring it on you, but I did try to break the news without having to bring the Dowager Duchess to our first meeting, but time has passed since then that has forced the issue somewhat.”
There was something about the young woman that made Peter’s stomach clench in dread of what he was going to be told. He was prevented from further speech at the entrance of Rosalind; thankfully she had been true to her word in undertaking a speedy change of clothing.
Baroness Leyland’s smile increased, “Ah, Duchess, I was just explaining to your husband that I have brought the Dowager Duchess of Sudworth to be introduced to her family.” The woman was obviously in her element; her smile could not have been wider.
Rosalind looked quickly at Peter before calmly walking across the room to a seat. She had seen the tension in Peter’s stance and braced herself for what could only be news that would cause upset. She sat, appearing calm, fixing her dress around her, before folding her hands in her lap. She nodded to Peter and Baroness Leyland. “If you would both be seated, perhaps you can explain fully what is going on.”
Peter admired Rosalind’s reaction and sat near to her. Baroness Leyland returned to her seat next to the newcomer. She looked as if she could hardly contain herself. “I came across this young woman walking along the lanes just the day before your ball. She explained who she was, and I immediately offered her shelter until I could speak to you, Sir; but obviously events at the ball put paid to that, and I have held back from visiting until your sister’s wedding occurred. It was a little more delayed than I had expected, but nevertheless we are here now.”
“And who is ‘we’?” Peter said, his tone ice cold. Baroness Leyland looked about to speak, but Peter held up his hand to stop her. “I would like to hear from your guest who she is.”
Baroness Leyland did not look pleased, but turned to her companion. “You tell them what you told me, my dear.”
The young woman already sat bolt upright, but she seemed to raise herself slightly before she spoke. “I am the Duchess of Sudworth, but since my husband’s death, the Dowager Duchess,” she said. Her voice was heavily accented Italian, but her words were clear.
Baroness Leyland had the pleasure of seeing the colour draining from the faces of both her hosts but encouraged her friend to continue. “Tell them all of the details my dear.”
“I met the Duke in Florence,” the visitor said. “He was very charming, but I resisted his charms; I would not bring shame to my family. He wanted to marry me even though I had but a small dowry. My father refused his first request, wanting to test his character. Robert was angry and left Florence in temper, but two months later he returned and requested again that he have my hand in marriage. My father waited weeks before giving his blessing and Robert was true to me. We married one month later with my family around me.”
“Can you prove this?” Peter asked, trying to suppress the rage he felt against his brother.
“I have the marriage certificate,” the young woman replied defiantly.
“What happened after the marriage?” Peter asked.
“We lived in a house that Robert rented,” came the explanation. “It was the grandest in the area. We were very happy.”
“I’ll bet you were,” Peter said bitterly. “Why did you not write when my brother was ill?”
Tears filled the eyes of the young woman, “It was so quick: he was ill for two days only and then no more.”
“The letter I received was from staff, not his wife,” Peter persisted.
“I was ill; I took to my bed, but then the money men came,” she replied with disgust.
“The money men?” Peter asked, already guessing the answer.
“Robert had not paid bills, many bills. I had no money; I was just Isabella de Lucca. I had no money, so I returned to my family; I was angry with Robert.” By now, she was obviously agitated, her hands expressing her emotions.
“You aren’t the only one to be angry with him,” Peter admitted. “But why have you chosen now to come forward?”
“It is not for me alone,” Isabella responded. “My son deserves to know his family.”
“His son?” Peter asked, a sickening feeling rising in his throat.
“Yes, Roberto is our son; Robert did not know him,” came the sad response.
The room fell silent, apart from the gentle sobbing from the apparent Dowager Duchess. Baroness Leyland looked as if she had found the crown jewels, she looked so pleased with herself. Rosalind was watching Peter closely; she wanted to comfort him, but it was not appropriate in front of their guests.
Peter’s mind was reeling. Robert not only had an illegitimate daughter, but now a son who could be legitimate. If it was proved to be correct, everything would change once again. He turned to the visitors. “Please leave me the documentation that you have; I shall have my solicitor verify it. It may take some time, but you will appreciate that we have to make sure of your claims. Robert never mentioned you in any of his correspondence. When we have more information I shall contact you. I am presuming that you will be
staying with Baroness Leyland?” There was some satisfaction at the expression on the gossip’s face.
“I am not to live here?” the Dowager Duchess asked.
“Not at the moment,” Peter said firmly. “You are a stranger, and there are more than myself and my wife to consider in all of this.”
“I had not anticipated being burdened with a guest for a long stay,” the Baroness said, not pleased at the realisation of the cost of keeping a guest for months while her identification was proved.
“We shall make arrangements to ready one of the estate cottages,” Rosalind said, the first words she had uttered throughout the exchange. “I think that way, we have a direct link to the Dowager Duchess and Roberto until the proof is received.” She had no doubt that the woman could be speaking the truth, and she did not wish for the Baroness to know all their business.
“We shall contact you in a day or two when the cottage is ready for you,” Peter said. “Now if you would excuse us, you will appreciate that we have a lot to do.”
“Of course,” Baroness Leyland stood and the two ladies were shown out of the room, leaving Rosalind and Peter behind.
“My blasted brother!” Peter snapped when there was no doubt that they would not be overheard.
“Poor Lady Joan,” Rosalind said. “He married a poor woman after all.”
“What could he have been thinking?” Peter ground out. “In fact, it was obvious that he was not thinking at all! He probably married her because she refused him; he could never abide not getting what he wanted.”
“Your assumption seems to support what the Dowager was saying. He went off in a huff at first but then returned to try again,” Rosalind said with a shake of the head. “What a man!”
“It was a good idea for you to offer a cottage for their stay,” Peter said with a smile.
“I just thought it might be a good way of introducing them to Annie,” Rosalind explained.
Peter groaned, “I need to send for my solicitor,” he said. “The quicker this is all resolved the better.”
Rosalind: A Regency Romance (The Four Sisters Series Book 1) Page 18