“What?”
“Henry,” Gerard said again. “The child Mary Elizabeth Best took in who belonged to a Duke of Avon.”
Avon’s gaze changed significantly right before he paled. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a hard cough. Gerard waited for his body to calm, but it seemed only to get worse. Blood appeared on Avon’s lips, and his eyes began to roll. Then he slipped out of the chair.
Gerard bent over and caught him before he hit the ground. “Help! Someone come quickly!” Rushing feet came down the hall and then the door was thrown open by two footmen. “Help him to the bed and call for a doctor.” His orders were carried out quickly, and Avon was asleep before he hit the bed.
Justin rushed into the room moments later. “How is he?”
Gerard looked up at him and it took a moment before he could speak. “I… don’t know.” Gerard looked at his father again and understood the decision he had to make. “I can’t... leave him like this.”
Justin said nothing, and Gerard was startled when his friend’s hand landed on his shoulder.
“Take all the time you need,” Justin told him. “We’ll wait for your arrival.” He would allow him to be with his father, but he’d not bend on Gerard making an appearance at his home.
Gerard nodded and watched Justin leave. His heart was torn. He wanted to speak to Rose. His heart raced with the need. He had to make things right with her, but what sort of man would he be if he abandoned his father? He knew the man had many flaws, but that didn’t mean that Avon hadn’t cared.
It was his need to control Gerard and everyone around him that drove them apart.
Guilt ate at his soul. He’d caused this. They’d caused this together with their anger. Would Gerard’s anger one day get the best of him as well?
He was there when the doctor arrived and there when he left, not daring to leave his father’s side until the next morning.
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32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
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Manners. Deportment. Elegance.
Rose chanted these tiring words in her head as she waited for the servants to set out their breakfast. She and Emma were pretending that the meal in question was a formal dinner, thus Rose had to catch herself as she moved to thank the servant who poured her tea.
One did not acknowledge a servant during a formal meal. Rose thought the rule to be rude, but nevertheless, she would master it just as she did everything else she set her mind to.
In attendance at the ‘formal’ meal were Emma, Rose’s father, who did not take it seriously at all, which put a smile on her face, and her cousin William, who seemed to take far too many things seriously, almost to the point that it gave Rose anxiety. And today, just as she had the last few, Alex kept her distance, seeking out a book or remaining in bed, because the man exhausted her as well.
Justin had taken Nash, Chris, and Reuben hunting, but Rose was almost sure the trip was mainly so they could speak privately. When William had offered to go along, they’d kindly turned him away.
At the moment, William was grinning wildly and looking down at his bread, meat, and coddled eggs as though he’d been presented a feast, just as he was at most meals. William dressed the part of a dandy, but Stonewhire had warned her that her cousin had little money to call his own, and she should be prepared for him to ask her for money.
As it stood now, he’d not asked for a shilling, and already two weeks had gone by without him even hinting that he would. He actually seemed to enjoy Rose and, though she knew it was wrong, his manner made her laugh. Everything about him was overdone. From the vibrant fabrics of his clothes to the excessive movement of his hands. When he was happy, as he was at that very moment, he held his fingers closed together in front of his heart and, while he spoke, they flipped over this way and that again and again. Everything he said he did as though it were profound. He spoke as though every word were his last and he wished the world to remember them once he was gone. It didn’t matter if it was ‘pass me the marmalade’ or ‘oh, bother, my handkerchief has lost a thread.’ He was a living thespian, and he had lifted Rose’s spirits. Though she thought he was aware of this fact, he was surely unaware as to why.
Or perhaps he wasn’t and simply didn’t care. More than once, Emma had slipped and laughed aloud in the middle of a lesson. William had accompanied her to her lessons most days and always seemed to have a story that helped remind Rose of the lesson.
A paper sat beside Stonewhire, and Rose couldn’t help but ask, “How is our timber investment fairing?”
He’d been gazing at the paper but looked over at her and smiled. “Very well. I was actually planning to begin my journey back to London today.”
The news startled her. “So soon?” She didn’t want him to leave, but she understood that he’d taken this time to be with her when she’d needed him and that meant so much to her. It was clear that he’d needed someone to love him, and doing so had helped Rose put aside her own pain to concentrate on him.
That must have been clear in her eyes because his gaze softened. “I can’t remember the last time I was missed.”
Her heart ached, and she was reminded of the last time her heart had hurt so badly—a
week ago, when she’d allowed herself to think about Gerard and his involvement in the worst night of her life. She rarely ever thought of any of the good that had once been between them. She could barely remember it, as though that one tragedy had rewritten the history of them.
Justin had told her about Avon being confined to bed two weeks ago, and she’d prayed for both the duke and his son, but she hadn’t allowed herself to think of Gerard for the remainder of the week.
Until now. It all hit her at once.
Stonewhire stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”
Rose excused herself from the table and took the marquess’ hand.
“Oh!” William leaped from his chair. “Are we to have a turn around the garden?” His eyes brightened at the prospect as he used his serviette to dust away any crumbles from his jacket.
Stonewhire pointed at him. “Sit.”
William sat and stared up at him. He was clearly not invited.
Rose bit her lip to suppress a smile and then let her father lead her out of the room.
It was the middle of October, and the air had begun to cool in the early mornings and late afternoons. At the moment, it was still very warm.
“You could always come to London if that is your desire,” he said. “There are many things I wish to show you now that you know what you’ll be inheriting.”
She smiled at him and tightened her hold on his arm. “I would enjoy spending more time with you, but… I’m not ready to return to the city yet.” She wasn’t ready for the stares or people who would pay call just so they could see London’s newest oddity. She was of Chris’ thinking at the moment and wouldn’t mind confronting whoever was exposing Mary Elizabeth Best’s letters.
Stonewhire touched her hand. “I understand. So while I’m away, do mind your cousin.”
She sighed. “William does not seem as bad as you’ve made him appear.”
He turned away, looking down the path. “Well, to be quite honest, I don’t know William at all, but I do know his father. If they are anything alike, then I don’t want him near you.”
She thought a moment about the implication. Were sons so very much like their fathers? Having grown up in an orphanage, she didn’t know many men who knew their fathers. Gerard and Avon came to mind. Were they alike?
No, her heart said. While it would have made her life easier to think Gerard the same villain as his father, he was not. Yes, he’d hurt Rose, but there were whispers that Avon had done far worse.
What if Avon was who Gerard would ultimately become? Surely, it was best that her love for him die now.
But it wouldn’t go away.
“Write to me,” Stonewhire told her. “When I return to the country, I would very much like to show you the family estate, if you are up to it.”
Her smile widened. “I would love nothing more.”
They walked the remainder of the garden, speaking of subjects that interested them both before they returned inside. An hour later, she saw her father away.
William stood at her side as her father’s carriage left. Rose’s chest grew tight as the carriage faded into the distance and then disappeared behind a line of trees.
Her cousin touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear. He’ll return before you know it. Oh, and look!” He laughed. “Here comes a carriage now. Is he returning so soon?”
No. The carriage and team of horses did not belong to her father. While her father’s horses had been a rich brown, these great beasts were black and their coats shined in the sunlight.
She knew at once who they belonged to, yet still she prayed that she was wrong.
But as it drew closer, its symbol could not be misread.
The carriage came to a stop and the very last man she wanted to see—had expected to see—bent his head out the door and froze.
Their gazes held, and Rose stopped breathing.
Her cousin bowed. “Oh, Lord Obenshire! I didn’t know you still intended to come. Tell me, how is your father?”
It took Gerard a moment for his hazel eyes to turn away from her. The moment they did, Rose pulled air into her burning lungs.
“He is better. I thank you for asking.” Gerard stepped out of the carriage and came to stand before her.
Rose didn’t meet his eyes and neither did she speak. She couldn’t. An agonizing turning sensation had begun in her belly just as her chest began to cave.
She kept her face low, though it went against Emma’s teachings. She could hear the woman telling her to lift her chin, throw her shoulders back, straighten her spine, and stare the earl in the eyes.
And she’d planned to. All these weeks, she’d sworn to herself that when she saw him again she would not fall apart, but that was exactly what she was doing. Her eyes burned and the urge to strike out consumed her.
But it wasn’t him she wanted to hit. It was herself. She’d been a fool to believe in him. To love him.
“My lord,” William started.
Gerald cut him off. “Mr. Montgomery, would you be so kind as to give Miss Rose and me a moment alone?”
William hesitated and then he moved.
But not as Rose thought he would.
Her cousin placed a hand on her elbow and said, “Actually, my lord, I don’t believe I can. You see, Miss Rose is an unwed young woman and though she is not entirely in my care, she is for the moment. If you would like to speak to her—”
“No.” Rose turned to William, her fingers digging into his arm. “I’d like to go to my room.”
A glitter of blue fire burned in William’s eyes. “Very well, dear.” Then he swung to face Gerard. Literally. His entire frame moved with great defiance and straightened as though he were an actor on stage. “It seems my cousin doesn’t wish to speak to you. So… good day, my lord.” He snapped his feet together and turned toward the door, taking Rose with him.
Rose clung to William and allowed him to take her into the house, barely managing to hold herself together, with the hope that Gerard would leave and never approach her again.
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33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
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Gerard walked into the dining room when the evening meal was called.
Seven pairs of eyes looked up at him. Justin, Chris, Rueben, Nash, Rose’s cousin William— who Gerard hadn’t decided if he liked or not—Emma, an old friend of both Gerard and Justin’s, and Rose. He suspected Alexandra was resting and recalled why he’d come.
No one looked welcoming, though none of Rose’s brothers looked angry. Gerard suspected that Reuben had shared the reason he’d done what he had to end his relationship with Rose, but what any of them thought of it or his current presence in the house, he didn’t know.
Rose stood before his feet crossed the threshold. “I believe I’d rather dine in my room.”
“No.” Gerard backed out. “Stay. I’ll go.” Then he left before another word could be said.
Because what was he going to say? His father was dying, most likely, though who really had the answer to the question.
He’d hurt Rose greatly. It was there in her every feature, and while imagining the hurt from afar had been unbearable, seeing it so close left him numb. He barely made it to the parlor before he caught himself on the back of a chair. Then he slowly went to the sideboard to search for brandy.
As he should have suspected, there was none in sight. Justin had stopped drinking and never looked back, but surely his friend kept some for his guests. He searched the drawers until he found it.
Satisfied, he poured himself a glass and finished it before pouring a second.
A pair of glass doors led from the parlor to the balcony and he went outside.
What had he been thinking to present himself at dinner? He hoped Alexandra hadn’t been made upset by Rose’s obvious anger and pain.
Gerard would have to be delicate about this matter. He’d have to find a way to deal with Rose without upsetting his hostess and causing the loss of her baby. He didn’t want that to happen.
“Why are you here?”
He swung around and nearly fell back at the sight of Rose. She’d startled him completely.
She skirted around him and moved to the balcony. How strange it felt to find her this way again, on a balcony during a cool autumn night. Only instead of desire and love in her gaze, there was profound hate and a thick measure of hurt. Her blue eyes were darkened by emotion.
Yet she’d come to him.
“Rose.” He had her alone, and still he didn’t know what to say. His fingers began to tremble, and he put the glass down before turning to her again.
She spoke before he could. “I’m only here because it is what Alexandra wishes, and until that child is born, she shall have from me whatever I can provide her.”
“Rose—”
“I want you to leave.” She held his eyes. “I can’t be around you, Gerard. I poured my soul out to you, and it meant nothing.” Her lips trembled, and she closed her eyes. She began to breathe for a moment and then opened her eyes again. “I’m barely holding it together. Your presence makes it worse.” She was so bold, holding nothing back and making herself vulnerable in every way.
Why could he not do the same?
Because his feelings for her were dangerous.
Yet her openness and willingness to show her true self to him deserved the same from him.
And more.
She deserved so much more.
“My father has threatened the Best Home if I don’t let you go.”
The surprise that covered her features triggered a reaction in himself, and he found he could not have this conversation without touching her.
And then, once his fingers were around her arms, he knew it was more than just this moment. He could not imagine a future where they stood as strangers in a room another day. This was the woman he would die for. It was time that he live for her as well. “I regret hurting you, Rose. But at the time, there was no other choice. I knew your feelings for me…”
She looked down. “So…” she said, her voice trembling. “You hurt me because of him?”
“No.” He touched her cheek and waited for her eyes to meet his again. “I hurt you because I was a coward. I never should have let my father control me, though I fear I’ve grown used to him doing it my entire life.” It had been that way since he was a boy. He’d lost friendships because Avon wanted to have full reign over Gerard’s every decision.
“I should have known,” she whispered.
He pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “No. I’ll not let you blame yourself for this. This was my fault.” He withdrew his fingers and touched her shoulder. “Can you ever forgive me for what I said to you, Rose?”
She nodded and asked, “How is your father?”
He was not quite done with their other subject but decided he would answer her. He led her toward a wooden bench and sat with her. “He’s as well as one can expect. He also told me that Henry was his father’s son. Avon claims to have never met him, though I don’t know if I should believe him.”
She frowned. “Why do you doubt him?”
Gerard looked away and recalled the evening he’d asked his father about Henry. “The question startled him too greatly for the story of Henry to be so finite.”
“Perhaps Henry is the reason your father hates me and Alexandra so much,” Rose offered.
Gerard nodded. “I’m beginning to believe so as well. I simply wish there was more to find out about Henry.”
“Maybe there is.” She smiled softly. “The rest of Mary Elizabeth’s collection has yet to be found. Who knows what else awaits us.”
Gerard wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with anything else. Rose being the daughter of a marquess had been very unexpected. But he thought this a topic for another time. It was time they spoke about themselves. He turned toward her as much as the bench would allow and took her hands. “Rose, did you mean everything you said on the night of the ball?”
She tightened her hold on his fingers as she looked away. In the low lighting, he still noted the change in her color. “I…” She tried to take her hands back, but he held onto them. She started to tremble, and he released her hands only to touch her cheeks.
“Do I truly fulfill your every wish, Rose?” He touched her hair. “Even without my wealth and titles, you would take me?”
The Games the Earl Plays Page 19