Rose and Miss Austen had already discussed every other book she’d written, and she knew that the author was pleased that some enjoyed Emma. The sales were strangely not as great as her other books had been, which was probably the reason Lord Stonewhire had ordered so very few.
She wondered what the marquess would say if he knew that Rose alone—with the addition of Miss Austen’s father and her publisher—was the only one to know who the anonymous writer of such great works as Pride and Prejudice actually was.
How had Gerard found her?
This gift was extraordinary and left Rose breathless. She wanted to weep at the knowledge that he’d gone out of his way to do this for her.
Perhaps Alex was right. Perhaps Gerard did feel something for her. Perhaps…
The door opened, and Rose stood. She was surprised when Gerard came into the room followed by Lord Stonewhire.
Rose blinked and then bowed. “My lord.” When she looked at him again, she was sure he noticed her silly grin. “Whatever are you doing here?” She then thought better of her words. “I mean… I don’t know what to say.”
Stonewhire crossed the room, and his expression became serious. “Rose, I must speak to you in private.”
Rose held his eyes. “Is something wrong? Is it the library?” Had he come all this way to drag her back to London?
He shook his head. “It’s not the library. It’s…” He looked around and met Miss Austen and Gerard’s eyes.
Gerard crossed the room and took Miss Austen’s arm. “I’ll show you to the breakfast room and have someone pour you tea, unless you’d wish for something else.”
Miss Austen smiled in reply. “Thank you, my lord.”
Gerard turned to Rose. “Ring for me if you need anything.” He held her eyes and waited for her to confirm she would follow his instruction.
She nodded and watched him leave.
Stonewhire took the seat that Miss Austen had occupied and Rose retook her own.
She stared at him and didn’t know what to say. “Did you come for Lord Grant’s lectures?” She knew Stonewhire to be a man who was ever in pursuit of knowledge.
The marquess was staring at the door and asked, “Who was that woman?”
Rose smiled. “I can’t say. It’s a secret.”
Stonewhire’s gaze moved to the small table that sat behind them and his gaze caught the book. His blue eyes danced with mischief. “Is she—?”
“I can’t say,” Rose said once more, though she knew her grin gave her away. Still, she’d honor the author and never utter her name.
The marquess chuckled, and his expression lightened before he found her eyes. “However did Obenshire find her?”
“I don’t know.” But her heart was full with the knowledge that he had, and not for anyone else. Just for her. She realized the marquess was looking at her oddly. His knees were crossed, and he leaned away from her with an elbow positioned on the chair’s arm.
“When I said you’d make a fine lady, I didn’t know you had the ambitions of being a duchess.”
Rose’s eyes widened. “I… Gerard and I… I mean, Obenshire… We’re not together. We’re just friends.”
Stonewhire lifted a dark brow, which made him even more handsome. “Well, your friend made it very clear that if I harmed you, I would be forced to answer to him.”
Rose straightened in her chair. “He threatened you?”
“Yes, and I am not a man who men threaten. Not even his father can control me,” Stonewhire said. “But I’ve no doubt that if I did hurt you, he would fight to his last breath to see to my demise.” The marquess’ smile caught her off guard.
Why did Gerard’s threats please him?
She had a better question. “Why does Gerard believe you’d ever hurt me?”
Something passed in Stonewhire’s eyes, but he averted his gaze before righting himself. He picked up his cane and began to turn it in his palms. Was he nervous?
His nervousness was making her nervous.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Is it your family?”
Stonewhire looked at her and shook his head. “No, you know I’ve only my wife left. Our children never lived long.” She suspected the blankness in his eyes hid pain.
Rose lowered her gaze. She knew about Stonewhire’s children. He’d had three and each had fallen to illness. His heir was a distant cousin. She reached out and took his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He squeezed her hand then looked down at where they touched. She’d never touched him before, but then again, they’d never been alone. They’d always sat in the center of the library where anyone could hear their conversations on literature and news.
His family was something they’d never spoken of before.
“Is it your wife?” Rose asked. “Is she all right?”
The deep indifference in his gaze startled her. “She’s fine, I suppose, though we rarely see one another. I allow her to live her life as she pleases, while I do as I wish. I never loved her. We married because it was what our parents wished of us.”
Her eyes widened, but it wasn’t the story that surprised her. It was the admission. “I’m… sorry.”
He went on as though she hadn’t spoken, staring once again where their hands touched. “To be frank, I never loved anyone.” He looked at her again. “After the death of my first heir, I stopped trying.”
She could understand that. Her grip on his hand tightened, but she froze at his next words.
“Until you, Rose.”
She blinked while she gazed into his eyes and then her heart began to race as she tried to take back her hand. His hold tightened. “My lord, I believe—”
He shook his head and then laughed. “Oh, Rose, I don’t mean it in the way you think.” His eyes held her steady.
She pulled in a breath. “Then what way do you mean?”
His gaze was unwavering as he said, “You must have suspected it, did you not? You're the youngest woman I’ve ever employed. I have assisted in your education and aided in securing your financial future. I have allowed you to have full reign over my library. Tell me, why would a man such as I do those things?”
She still didn’t understand. Yet as she stared into his eyes, her deepest hopes rushed to the surface and stole her breath. She choked, and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know.”
He leaned toward her. “You do.”
She shook her head and tightened her hand on his. “Who are you?”
“Who do you think I am?” Tears started to pool in his own eyes, making his eyes look like the sea.
“Say it,” she whispered. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m your father.”
* * *
25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
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Gerard stood outside the private family sitting room and tried to hear what was taking place in the room behind him. If he heard anything that he didn’t like, he planned to storm into the room and beat Lord Stonewhire to within an inch of his life. His servants had taken one look at his face and done well to avoid him.
He looked up when another face he’d not expected to see appeared in the hall. “Lord Eastridge? What are you doing here?”
Reuben Smith glared at Gerard, but Gerard knew he himself was not who Reuben was angry with. “Where is Rose?”
Gerard lifted a brow. “Why does everyone want her today?”
Reuben stilled before him. “Who else is here?” He looked nearly panicked, which started Gerard’s own heart racing.
“Lord Stonewhire.”
Reuben cursed. “Where?”
Gerard didn’t answer. He simply turned toward the door and opened it.
Rose turned toward him and what he saw on her face broke him. She was weeping. Her eyes and face were red and swollen. She looked devastated.
Gerard’s gaze moved t
o Lord Stonewhire and before he knew what he was doing, he was across the room with the man’s throat in his hand. “I’ll kill you for hurting her.” His fist came down and connected with the marquess’ startled face. The marquess’ own tears made the hit less effective, causing Gerard’s hand to slide. Why had he been crying? It didn’t matter. He’d die where he stood.
He lifted his fist again.
“No!” Hands grabbed his arm, and he turned to find Rose standing next to him, holding him back. “Don’t hurt him.”
Gerard’s anger made his skin tight. Fury burned his lungs. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “Please, don’t hurt him.”
“Did he… touch you?” Gerard glared at Stonewhire… whom he still held in his grip. The man struggled to breathe. If Gerard added just a little more pressure…
“He didn’t touch me.” Rose pulled on his arm, forcing him to turn to her. She cupped his face, her hands soft and cool against his heated flesh. “Let him go, please. He only brought news. Nothing more.”
Gerard let go of the marquess and touched Rose, cupping her cheeks and running his hands down her neck and shoulders, searching her face for evidence that he should have ended Stonewhire’s life when he had the chance. “Are you hurt?” He touched her face again.
“No.” She blinked rapidly, and more tears fell. “I’m… all right.”
“Rose,” he whispered as he brushed away her tears. “You’re weeping. You’re not all right.”
Rose turned to Stonewhire, but Gerard turned her back to him.
“What did he do?” he asked.
She inhaled and then released her breath slowly. “Do you remember what I told you about him? About who I tended to imagine him to be?”
Gerard wrapped his arms around her, protecting her as he thought.
Then he recalled what she’d said and stilled.
“Lord Obenshire.” Reuben stood by Stonewhire, helping the man collect himself. He’d almost forgotten about Reuben’s presence and noticed Rose’s brother was watching them closely. He realized he should let Rose go.
But he didn’t.
“I’m her father,” Stonewhire said through gasps.
This was unbelievable, yet the evidence of the truth rested in Rose’s eyes… and on her face.
“I’ll not apologize for what I did,” Gerard told him. “She was weeping. You caused her pain. I told you what I would do.” And he couldn’t imagine what she was feeling at the moment. He wanted to carry her far away from all of this.
Rose tried to move away, but he tightened his hold and, after going still for a moment, she relaxed and moved closer to his side, clinging to him in a way he liked greatly.
He looked at Reuben once again. “You knew about this?”
“It was printed in the papers three days ago in London,” Reuben said. “I must have left right after Stonewhire did.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper.
Gerard turned to Rose. “Have you seen this yet?”
She rested her head on his chest and shook her head. “But he’s told me what’s inside.”
Unwilling to let her go, he escorted her over to the couch and sat close to her as he opened the paper.
Mary Elizabeth Best’s journal entry read much like the one she’d written about Alexandra.
Rose’s father was identified as Stonewhire. Her mother’s identity left him speechless. Jessamine Bryce still took to London stages, and though older than when she’d first appeared, the world claimed that she’d aged gracefully.
The rest of the article shocked him. He looked at Stonewhire and then Rose again before he looked at the marquess once more.
“How did the writer get hold of your will?” Gerard asked.
Stonewhire hung his head. “I don’t know. Rose wasn’t supposed to know until after I’d died.”
“So it’s true?” Reuben asked. “You’re leaving her everything that’s not tied to your title? The libraries? Your other businesses?”
Stonewhire lifted his eyes, caught Rose’s, and then nodded. “I’ve been preparing her for it. She’ll be ready when the time comes.”
Rose stood and nearly ran to her… father. She knelt at his feet and took his hands. “Why would you do this? Why didn’t you tell me?” She broke into tears again and rested her head on their joined hands. “I don’t want you to die. I just got you.”
Stonewhire took his free hand and stroked her hair. “Rose…” But he didn’t manage to say anything else. He choked on his next words and remained silent.
The scene was moving and called to Gerard’s emotions as nothing he’d ever seen on a stage could do.
Reuben went to Gerard. “We should leave them alone.”
“No.” Gerard didn’t want to leave her. Her tears were like poison to his blood. He wanted to make them stop.
Reuben placed a hand on his shoulder. “Gerard, we should give them time alone.”
Gerard turned to look at him. It was the first time Reuben had addressed him by his given name. Gerard had invited him to the party and had been surprised when Reuben refused, sure the man would wish to keep a close eye on his sister.
Yet he was here the moment Rose needed him.
Gerard stood and slipped from the room with Reuben. Rose didn’t even lift her eyes to look at him and a part of him worried.
Reuben closed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”
Gerard shook his head. “I know just as much as you do.”
“No.” Reuben crossed his arms. “I’m not talking about Rose and Lord Stonewhire. I am asking about you and Rose.”
Gerard gave his usual ready answer. “We’re friends.”
Reuben lifted a dark brow.
Gerard looked away and figured that perhaps her brother earned the truth. “I care for her.” He looked at him then. “I’d do anything for her.”
“Including the murder of a wealthy and powerful marquess.”
Gerard shrugged. “If he deserved it.”
Reuben chuckled. “That does not sound like a man who sees a woman as a friend.”
“We’re very good friends.” Gerard didn’t want to be far from Rose but started down the hallway in an attempt to get away from Reuben.
Eastridge followed all the same. “You’re in love with her.”
* * *
26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
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Gerard turned around to glare at Rose’s brother. “Lower your voice,” he whispered. Though his heart beat loudly in his ears.
“Do you dispute it?” Reuben asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re lying,” Rueben shot back with a grin.
“No.” He couldn’t. It was a very bad idea to love Rose. A terrible idea.
Though if he had to love any woman in the world… if he must fall for someone, it would be Rose. His Rose with those beautifully soft pink lips and those enchanting eyes that twinkled when she made up a story.
She made him feel as though birds had taken flight in his belly, their wings flapping with anxiety.
And he could listen to her speak endlessly for days and knew he’d never bore. There was nothing boring about the woman.
And now scandal would make her even more popular. She was a wealthy heiress. Second and third sons would likely begin to fight for her hand. Titled men as well. Men who didn’t know her. Who didn’t understand her needs and wishes.
She’d need protecting.
Reuben seemed capable. After all, he’d likely won the war against the French single-handedly. He was a brave man, but would he do what had to be done to keep Rose safe? Gerard had never thought himself ruthless, but he would be if it stopped Rose’s tears before they could even start. He’d protect her with his body if it came down to it.
Protect her and love her—
“We’re just f
riends,” he said, cutting himself off with fear. “Can’t a man and woman be close and nothing more?” He was asking himself this question more than Reuben.
“No,” Reuben told him plainly. “You love her. Does she feel the same?”
Gerard looked around in panic and though they were alone, he knew the walls had ears. He walked a little farther and slipped into his father’s study, glad Reuben didn’t speak again until the door was closed behind him.
“Does she feel the same?”
“I... don’t… know her feelings for me.” Gerard fell into a chair and covered his face.
Have mercy, but he was in love.
He was in love with Rose.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing can ever come of it. Not while my father breathes.”
“So wait until he’s dead.”
Gerard looked at him. “The man has been dying for years. It could be years more before that happens.” He’d already had this conversation with himself. Who wouldn’t want to marry Rose? “And even if we did wait, my father would destroy her.”
“I’ll protect her,” Reuben said. “As will Chris and Nash. Perhaps even Stonewhire.”
The thought was promising, however…
An image of Best Home ablaze gave him pause. Would his father do such a thing while children were in the building? It was very possible.
Gerard shook his head. “No. Everyone enjoys speculating about what my father is capable of, but I have seen it firsthand. I have lived it, had terrible dreams because of it, and I won’t have that on Rose.”
Reuben straightened. “Do we speak of murder?”
Gerard looked away. “I’ve known people to… disappear, but I’ve heard my father in private say that he doesn’t wish his enemies death.” And just before Reuben could relax, he added, “Instead, he likes to watch his victims suffer. He’s driven men and women to take their own lives, yet his remains clean… for the most part.”
The Games the Earl Plays Page 15