by Lauren Smith
Charles frowned. “You send a woman flowers and jewels when you run afoul of a lady—you don’t marry her. I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to. I’m the one marrying her, not you.”
“But—”
Jonathan cut in. “Has she even agreed to the marriage?” He brushed his sooty hands on a cloth rag hanging off the back of the wagon.
“Not yet, but she will.”
The distant sound of children laughing had the three of them turning.
Rosalind and Joanna were chasing a dozen or so children about the meadow, those belonging to the Maple and Higgins families. Joanna’s actions did not surprise Ashton; she had an open heart for everyone, and children seemed to gravitate to her. But Rosalind? He could not believe she had joined in.
Her hair was coming loose from its pins, and her rose-colored gown was wrinkled and dirty, yet she didn’t seem to notice. She captured a boy who couldn’t have been more than two and swung him around, causing the lad to squeal in delight. The older children clapped and laughed.
The rosy hue to Rosalind’s cheeks filled him with warmth. She was feeling better it seemed, and that in turn made him happy. It was clear she enjoyed the adventures of business, but she was also a free-thinking woman with ideas of her own, something which made his conversations with her fascinating rather than tedious. He’d spent many a dinner or ball engaging with young ladies who were only too quick to agree with anything he said or laugh at any comment they thought might be a joke.
It would be quite a stimulating experience to be married to Rosalind and share his life with her. They could ride, plan business decisions, even take long walks in a pleasant silence together. And by the looks of it, she enjoyed children. That gave him a strange light feeling deep in his chest. After everything she’d endured, Rosalind deserved some sort of happiness. Money alone would never achieve that, as he well knew.
I could make her happy. If there was one thing Godric, Lucien and Cedric had taught him, it was that the happiness found when one combined a well-matched husband and wife was not a matter of addition—it was multiplication.
Joanna called out, waving to him and his friends. “Ash, come and have some lemonade.”
“Shall we, gentlemen?” Ashton nodded at the area by the road where two blankets were spread out and refreshments were waiting for them.
His mother was in her element, marshalling the children and Joanna while the men worked. They had decided to make a picnic of it while the local men aided in the removal of the debris. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that his mother was watching Rosalind with an intensity that was beginning to concern him.
Regina knew better than to meddle in his business affairs, but he didn’t doubt for one moment she’d meddle in his romantic ones. All the more reason for his and Rosalind’s game of pretend courtship. He needed to remember to do something today in front of his mother to show his interest in Rosalind.
“Ashton, a word if you please.” Regina was seated on a corner of one of the blankets, a glass of lemonade in one hand and a lacy fan in the other.
“What is it, Mother?” He crouched down beside her on the blanket. She folded up her fan and patted a spot beside her, then held out a glass to him. He took the glass and settled on the ground.
“I thought you were jesting when you said you planned to marry that woman, but I’m starting to see something in her I rather like. I simply wished to let you know you have my approval and blessing.”
“I don’t need either of those things,” he replied coldly, but instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, Mother.”
“As you should be. For once, we agree upon something, and you act beastly about it.”
For a moment neither of them spoke, each of them looking pointedly in different directions. The light breeze that drifted across the blanket and ruffled the grass cooled his body and his temper enough that he gave in to the curiosity of what his mother had just admitted.
They rarely agreed on anything, especially in ladies. She was constantly throwing women at his feet, and he would turn up his nose and walk off, having no interest in whatever young miss she was convinced he should marry that week.
“You truly like her?” he asked.
His mother resumed fanning herself. “I do. There’s something about her, a strength I see in her that reminds me of myself.”
“She is strong.” He certainly agreed with her on that.
“But she’s guarded, and for a reason. You must take care, my boy. She’s been hurt before, that much is clear. It would do neither of you any good to push her too far too fast. Do you understand?”
“I will be careful with her,” he assured his mother.
Regina smiled. “That’s good, because she deserves to be properly wooed. You may start tonight at the Mertons’ ball. I had to turn down our invitations, but when Mrs. Merton learned it was because we had guests, she sent invitations this morning for Charles, Jonathan and Lady Melbourne.”
“A ball?” He stifled a groan. Courting Rosalind was supposed to put a stop to his mother sending him off to these blasted balls. But it seemed there was no way to avoid this one.
“Yes, and you will attend. There’s a nice young man I want Joanna to meet. If you come and show off your new fiancée, it would look well for Joanna. And a decent, respectable country ball will keep your friends out of trouble.”
How bloody thoughtful of Mrs. Merton to think of adding a few more guests to her list.
“I ought to ask Rosalind. She may not wish—”
Regina laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Every woman loves a ball. Dancing is the best way to a woman’s heart.”
Ashton scoffed. “Dancing? I doubt that.” While it was one of his many talents, dancing was not something he particularly enjoyed.
His mother’s fan smacked him in the chest with a resounding whack.
“Of course it is. How do you think I fell in love with your father?” Regina’s face softened as distant memories resurfaced. She sighed and dabbed at eyes, which were suddenly bright. “He was wonderful dancer.” It had been so long since his mother had spoken of his father in a positive light.
Ashton held his breath, wondering if his mother would keep speaking about his father or if the past would be too painful. His mother’s eyes glistened as she looked at him. He’d never wanted to think about how hard it had to be to love someone who hurt you. Regina had loved his father, despite the womanizing and the gambling. She still loved him.
She looked up at the sky. Sunshine covered her face, and for a moment he could imagine how she had looked as a young woman Rosalind’s age. Lovely.
“When a woman dances with a man, she feels safe. It’s a special sort of intimacy, one that promises love. So tonight, my dear boy, you will take her out onto the dance floor and stare deep into her eyes as you waltz. Seduction is not always about what happens between the sheets. Do you understand? Seduce her heart.”
Love. He hadn’t thought of Rosalind in such a way before. Protection, advantage, mutual pleasure, certainly. But love? If he was honest with himself, the thought of love scared the hell out of him. Ever since he’d witnessed Godric and Emily fall in love a secret part of him had yearned for that, but he was a man who dealt in realistic notions and practical behavior. The need to control his life, to protect everything fiercely—it didn’t bode well for any woman who dared to love him.
“Ashton.” His mother’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Promise me you’ll consider it.” She was looking right at him.
“Consider what?”
“Love, you silly boy. Winning her heart.”
Ashton could not believe he was having such a frank discussion with his mother, especially on such a subject. He shifted on the blanket, trying to feel settled, but it couldn’t be helped when a man was discussing love with his mother. Was this how Lucien felt when his mother had tricked him into seducing Horatia last Christmas?
Lord, sa
ve us all from meddling mothers.
“I’ll consider it.” Ashton turned his gaze back to Rosalind. She was wearing a makeshift blindfold now, searching for the giggling children around her. Their little bodies danced out of reach as she called for help to find them. Joanna was laughing and shouting directions to avoid being captured.
With a grin, Ashton left his mother to finish her lemonade, and he crept up behind Rosalind. Before Joanna could speak, Ashton raised a finger to his lips. She smiled back and kept quiet.
“Oh! Where are you?” Rosalind muttered, half giggling as she spun and ran straight into Ashton.
He captured her by the waist, pressing her body flat to his. Her body fit to his with a startling perfection. Her features were animated and lively beneath the spring sunlight, and it filled him with a quiet joy that made his heart race.
She could be mine…if I can woo her.
“Well, it seems like I’ve captured a pretty prize,” he said. “What is my reward?”
Her lips formed a little O in surprise, and she tore the blindfold from her eyes. There was no better time than now to kiss her, in full sight of his mother.
He cupped her face and slanted his mouth down over hers. The taste upon his tongue reminded him of just how much he had restrained himself before. Her mouth opened beneath his, and he encouraged her with his tongue to be bold and not focus on the fact that they could be seen. He wanted her full attention upon him and this single decadent kiss.
When their mouths finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers, their eyes meeting. A blush stained her cheeks as she sought to regain her breath, and that only made him wish they were entirely alone so he could keep on kissing her.
“We don’t have to stop,” he said softly against her lips.
“But the children—”
“Are tired and should settle down to have a bit of lunch. As should you.” With a sigh he stepped back from his tempting Highland lass and nodded toward one of the empty blankets. He was relieved she did not fight his attempt to escort her there. He wanted to show her he could treat her the way a woman ought to be treated, as though she was precious. Even as his business rival, she was still a lady, and he wasn’t about to let her go uncared for.
“It does feel good to rest. I suppose I’m still not feeling as strong as I ought to.”
He had to agree. She appeared far too flushed from the game. He handed her a small plate of finger sandwiches and a glass of lemonade.
“Thank you.” She accepted the food and drink. They enjoyed a moment companionable silence.
“I see you and Joanna have been taking advantage of this fine day.” He chuckled as he watched the children on a distant picnic blanket squirming around Joanna like restless puppies as she handed out sandwiches.
Rosalind laughed. “Yes, it has been wonderful. The children are sweet. I suspect their mothers will be grateful we wore them out in the fields so they will sleep well tonight. Thank you for asking me to come out here with you. I did not believe I’d enjoy it as much as I have.” She sipped her lemonade and nibbled on her sandwich.
Was now his chance? Ask her about the ball while she was happy and with a full stomach? Surely she’d agree—it was part of their arrangement, after all. A dance would be public, and his mother would have little chance to question his motives if he brought Rosalind to it.
“Rosalind, there is a country ball tonight. One of our neighboring families is hosting it. When they found out we could not attend due to the presence of guests in our home, they extended invitations this morning to all of you. Would you like to join me there? Joanna is coming as well as my mother.”
“A ball?” She turned and stared anywhere but at him. “Are you asking me simply because of our agreement?”
He stared at his plate of food and considered how best to respond. “I won’t deny that is my primary goal.” He sipped at his lemonade and then set it aside before he captured her chin and forced her to face him. Sparks lit her gaze, dark flashes of defiance mixing with glints of light from excitement when she battled with him.
She looked at him slyly. “And by doing so in such a public setting, you aren’t trying to pressure me into some kind of actual agreement of marriage?”
Ashton huffed. “Of course not.”
“Good.” Her blunt tone held a challenge in it, one that Ashton was quick to take up.
“But would it be so terrible? As my wife, you would be powerful, twice as wealthy, and safe. I would protect you with my life, and my friends would as well.”
How could she refuse such an offer? The world at her fingertips. What woman wouldn’t want that? It was madness.
And it wasn’t just what he could give her, but also what he wanted. He wanted her to be his, to call this feisty little hellion his own so that no other man would have the right to her.
The smile on her lips began to fall, and a flash of pain in her eyes stung him. “Yet you fail to offer me the two things I value above all else.”
“What are those?” he asked, leaning closer. He didn’t want her to retreat from him. If she told him, he could give them to her, no questions asked.
“Love and freedom.”
Love and freedom? He could not speak with certainty to the first, but the second was not something he understood. How would she not be free? For the first time in his life, a woman had left him baffled.
“You would be free to do as you please,” he argued.
Her laugh was as harsh as a slap. “Really? If I choose to move investments, sell or acquire a company or do anything with my property, would you let me?”
His hesitation in answering cost him. He couldn’t say yes, but not for the reason she expected. If Hugo was using her, he could not let her do anything that would aid the League’s greatest enemy. It was not because he wished to her to cease being the woman he respected.
She set her plate of food down and reached past the edge of the blanket to pluck a long stem of green grass. Rosalind raised it to her cheek, letting the green strand run along her skin before she sighed and let the breeze steal it from her open palm.
“I thought as much. As a widow, I have full control over my destiny. I am not merely the asset of a man. I exist in society, albeit grudgingly. Marriage destroys all of that. I would lose myself and become part of you. Everything I am would vanish in an instant. You cannot understand that. It is the folly of men. You believe you understand our feminine minds and hearts, that we’re simple creatures who crave new gowns and attending balls and that we have no thoughts or opinions or desires that match or exceed your own.” There was a hardness to her face now, a frustration that he’d seen glimpses of in other women throughout his life.
Lucien’s younger sister was a brilliant scholar but could not attend university. Audrey Sheridan was one of the most politically minded women he’d ever met, yet she covered her interests with talk of fashion to avoid ridicule. She would never have a voice in the House of Lords. And then there was Rosalind. She was the most cunning and intelligent business rival he’d ever faced, and he’d been bested by her clever strategies more than once. He suddenly realized that Emily’s Society of Rebellious Ladies might have more of a purpose behind them than to simply distract their husbands.
She gazed into the distance, her eyes full of that sadness that ate away at his resolve to talk her into marrying him.
“I would not give any of that up. Not unless I knew I would be loved and that I would be free. The first you cannot promise, and the second you cannot give.”
He reached out and stole one of her hands, closing his fingers around hers and raising them to his lips for his slow kiss.
“Consider this. I have my reasons for wishing to control your business, but they are not what you believe them to be. I would return control of them to you in time.” It was the most he could reveal without telling her about Hugo Waverly. None of the League had ever divulged the depth of their worries when it came to Waverly. He was far too dangerous, and the less i
nvolved their families and friends were, the safer they were. At least, that was what Ashton believed.
“Assuming you could even find a way to legally protect my property as my own after marriage, when would you give me control back?” A hint of hope in her eyes made him feel wretched since he couldn’t say for sure when it would be safe to do so.
“I don’t know the exact time—”
She jerked her hand free of his and turned her face away. “Because there is no such time. My answer will always be no. I shall not marry you. We shall play our charade for your mother’s sake, and that is all.”
He attempted to ignore the sting of that refusal, but he failed.
“That does not solve your problem, Rosalind. I own your entire life still—do not forget that,” he warned her.
Her eyes glittered like sharp silver pieces of a broken mirror. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I suppose trusting you to hold to our agreement was foolish of me. You will return one company to me, but now it sounds as though you’ll hold the rest hostage unless I marry you? Forgive me for not being pleased with the situation.” She paused, and with a sharp look she added, “If necessary, I shall marry another man, and then you may own him while I shall be free of you.”
“Bloody hell, woman!” He lunged for her, but she moved fast for a woman burdened by skirts. She was up and dashing back towards the children in the field.
“Ashton!” Joanna’s voice interrupted the stream of wild thoughts he was currently entertaining.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“Don’t be a fool.” Joanna was standing over him, arms crossed and glowering.
“My apologies.” He only half meant it. Rosalind’s stubbornness was putting him in a foul mood.
“Mama is right. You are a wretched seducer. I am beginning to wonder if the rumors about you from London are in fact only rumors.”
Ashton got to his feet and frowned at his sister.
“You aren’t supposed to hear such things.” She wasn’t allowed to go unchaperoned to any events and even then only to events he and his mother deemed appropriate. Rumors about his seductions should not have spread to any such places.