by Lauren Smith
Hugo dragged his hands through his hair, his eyes a bit wild and his face a mask of ferocity, causing Nelson to take a small step back. “We cannot delay. If she has the cipher, our efforts should be focused on getting to the letters before her. Kincade would not have sent those letters to London in case they were lost en route. No, he’s too cautious for that. I would bet my life he has them somewhere in his castle tucked under a floorboard or behind some loose stone. I will find them and retrieve them and then collect the cipher from Lady Melbourne as time allows.”
Sheffield nodded. “Suppose we approach the lady’s brothers? You mentioned a falling out with her and their father. They might be willing to do our work for us and retrieve Lady Melbourne from Lennox’s clutches and bring her home to Scotland, especially if they thought she was in some sort of danger.”
“Excellent idea. Better to have them tangle with the League than us. Kidnapping can be a messy endeavor.” Hugo began rifling through the papers on his desk. He and Sheffield were seemingly unaware that Lewis was still watching them as they made plans.
Without raising his head, Hugo said, “You may go, Lewis. Send reports here if there’s any change. Sheffield will have a man waiting to see you. You will know him as the Black Boar.”
“Understood, sir.” Lewis turned and fled the room. Waverly paid well, but there was something dark in that room that disturbed Lewis. Better to be back at the Sheridan house where he was out of sight and out of mind until he received his next orders.
*****
Lips burned with desire, whispered words, the imprisonment of her hands, those blazing blue eyes…
Rosalind woke from the hazy dream that replayed last night. The other side of the bed was cold. Ashton was long gone. She sat up and hugged the sheet around her. Last night she and Ashton had made love, passionately, wildly, and then tenderly. It had been unexpected and wonderful, yet now regret weighed heavily upon her.
What have I agreed to?
There was no way to escape this. She was going to marry Ashton, and he’d own her. She’d cease to be, all over again.
Breathe, just breathe.
She covered her face with her hands and drew slow breaths to steady her heart. It would have been easier to hate the man if he hadn’t been such a wonderful, giving lover the night before. He always seemed to find a way to draw her in, seduce her into trusting him.
But he couldn’t be trusted. His motives for marrying her had nothing to do with love and everything to do with giving him control of her properties. It did not matter that he claimed he would restore them to her later. Once he had her, he would be under no obligation to honor those words. She hadn’t worked so hard the last few years to build her business up just to hand it over to her biggest rival. How would she puzzle her way out of this?
A servant knocked on the door.
She flopped back onto the bed, pulling the coverlet over her head to hide herself. “Enter.”
“Your Ladyship, you should get up. I’ve drawn a hot bath and laid out a gown for you.” Claire’s voice came from somewhere above her.
Rosalind pulled the covers back down. “Fine.”
Claire stood beside the bed, a blue dressing gown held up for her. Her maid’s eyes critically assessed her, as though to check for damage.
“I must say, you look well, Your Ladyship. No harm done?” Claire’s question was carefully worded.
“No. No harm done.” What had occurred last night had been entirely consensual, and she wouldn’t play as though she hadn’t wanted or agreed to bedding Ashton. Rosalind slipped out of the bed and donned the dressing gown. After a long night, she was unprepared for what she knew would be a long day.
“His Lordship will be back this afternoon to tour the church with you. Lady Lennox will take you to town with Miss Lennox to select a wedding trousseau.” Claire was smiling, pleased as punch.
“Claire, I’ve sworn to despise Lennox, and you’re grinning like a cat who has fed on too much cream. You’re my servant, not his.”
“Oh, but I am, Your Ladyship. I know how clever you are, and it’s only a matter of time before you have him eating out of your hand. That is what you want, isn’t it? To take control back from him?”
Rosalind didn’t reply as she approached Ashton’s copper tub. Steam curled up from the hot water, warming her skin as she slipped out of the dressing gown and laid it over Claire’s outstretched arm.
“Is everyone else up?” She squinted at the pale light through the window.
“Aye. You’ve slept ‘til close to noon. You were fast asleep the last few times I checked on you.” Claire bustled around the table by the bath, setting out a hairbrush and some pins.
Rosalind groaned. “Noon?” How had she slept so late? She had always been a light sleeper, waking at dawn—if not before then—to start her day. She rarely slept all the way through the night. Those nights she did, demons from her past tended to emerge in nightmares that haunted her through to morning. Yet she’d slept like a babe last night in Ashton’s bed.
“If it’s not too forward of me to say, sometimes a man in your bed can help a lady sleep.” Claire had her back turned as she folded a towel, but Rosalind knew her maid was smiling. She could hear it in her voice.
“I don’t see how. The bloody oaf took up most of the bed and left little room for me.” And she’d been forced to curl into his body, which meant he’d wrapped an arm around her all night. Damned infuriating…wonderful man… With an angry little growl, she scrubbed a bar of soap over her skin.
“I suppose it goes back to the old days,” Claire mused as she hung up the dressing robe on a peg by the door.
Rosalind rubbed the lather of the soap over her body. “What do you mean?” The scent hit her, the masculine aroma. Ashton’s. Fresh memories from last night swept through her and she dropped the soap, splashing water out of the tub. She slicked her hair back and then dug around the bottom of the tub to find the slippery thing.
“A woman likes to know she will be safe, that someone will protect her. Hate him or love him, Lord Lennox is very much a man to protect what is his. Last night you became his, and deep down, you know he will care for you, Your Ladyship. That is why you slept so well.”
“How did you know about what happened last night? The marriage, I mean.”
Claire shrugged. “Servants always learn about these things first. Whispers are like wildfires in the corridors of any great house.”
“So the entire house knows we are to be married.” The thought of everyone knowing her shameful situation gave her a dull throb behind her eyes.
“Yes, but…” Claire paused. “The staff seem fascinated by the thought of their master marrying. They say he’s never shown lasting interest in a lady before, at least not with a mind to marriage, and according to the upstairs maids, he has never had a woman visit Lennox House.”
“I wasn’t exactly invited,” Rosalind reminded her. She washed her hair and glanced around for a towel. Her maid held one out.
“Well?” Claire asked.
“Well what?” Her response came out a tad harsher than she intended, but the idea of everyone knowing the intimate details of her private life had proved upsetting.
“Is it true that he is showing you favor?”
A derisive snort escaped Rosalind. “If by favor you mean to blackmail me, cause me to wager my future on a game of chess, deceive me about his skill at the game, and seduce me into bed with bloody good kisses, then yes, I’m a favorite of his.”
Claire was biting her lip to keep from laughing.
“What?” Rosalind snapped.
“Bloody good kisses? Oh dear, Your Ladyship, we mustn’t let that happen again.” Amusement honeyed Claire’s sarcastic tone.
“It’s not funny!”
“Of course it is, Your Ladyship. He sounds like quite a man, and you’re fighting the fact that you like him.” Claire giggled.
“I do not!” Rosalind started to laugh, despite her best attempts not
to. She was fighting the fact that Claire was right.
Claire smiled. “You’ll win him over. I would guess he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand in a fortnight.”
Calming down, Rosalind finished drying her hair with a cloth and went back into Ashton’s bedchamber. She found the light rose Jaconet muslin gown her maid had selected draped over one of the chairs, along with white stockings embroidered at the ankles with spring buds. A sky-blue shawl, white gloves and half boots in the same color finished her outfit. It would be elegant, yet show her figure to advantage. Claire had chosen well. If she was to suffer through this marriage business, she might as well look pretty.
“No bonnet?” Rosalind sat in a chair to pull the stockings on.
“Heavens no. It would be a shame to hide your face away on a day like today.”
Rosalind dressed quickly and let Claire style her hair in loose ringlets with a threading of blue silk in a band around her head in Grecian fashion.
“They’ll be dining at a late luncheon, if you’re ready,” Claire added as Rosalind headed for the door.
The dining room was empty save for two people, Charles and Rafe. When Rosalind saw them, she halted in the doorway.
“I hear congratulations are in order.” Rafe raised a glass of juice in her direction, then winced, touching his arm. The arm she knew she’d shot when he’d robbed her coach.
Quelling the rush of her temper, she walked over to take a chair beside him and then, without any warning, punched his concealed wound.
Rafe howled, leaning away from her, his blue eyes flashing with ice. “Bloody Christ!”
“You assured me he was a subpar chess player. You lied.”
Charles made a grand show of settling in to watch the scene across from him, sipping his tea.
“Of course I lied. You shot me!” Rafe growled.
“You robbed me, you blackguard. Did you think I wouldn’t figure out it was you that night on the road? I demand you return my money to me at once!”
“I most certainly will not! Consider it a country toll, you damned hellion!”
“Don’t call me that!” she shot back.
“Ash calls you that,” Charles noted. Both Rosalind and Rafe shot venomous glares his way.
“Well, he’s to be my husband, and I let him because he means it sweetly. Unlike you, you thieving cur!”
Rafe attempted to rise from his chair, but Rosalind struck his wounded arm again. Rafe cried out as his chair toppled over and he flew backwards onto the floor.
Charles clapped, even when Rosalind turned an icy glare at him. “I’m a pugilist. I cannot help but admire a good punch. Please, continue.”
Rafe got to his feet, cradling his bad arm and throwing daggers at her with his eyes. “I hope you drive Ashton mad. He deserves a harpy like you.” And he stalked off, leaving her and Charles alone.
“Don’t let him bother you. Rafe has always been a bit of an arse. He and Ashton are very different and rarely see eye to eye.”
Rosalind calmed and brushed a few wisps of hair back from her face.
“Did you not hear what I said before? That man robbed me. He was the reason I had to walk here in the rain and mud.”
Charles frowned, though he still seemed somewhat amused. “Yes, Ash had warned me that might be the case. I’ll be curious to see how he deals with the man when he returns. I suspect he saw the event as some sort of lark. You’re lucky he had no intention of hurting you.”
“He’s lucky the storm blinded me, or my shot would have struck his chest, not his arm.
“Rather bloodthirsty of you. Not surprising for a lady of Scotland. Your lot are still warriors at heart. Your brothers especially.”
“My brothers? You know them?” Rosalind stilled, a little afraid. The thought of her past colliding with her present at such a point in her life sent chills through her.
Charles licked a dab of honey from his fingers before setting a piece of toast down on his plate.
“Oh yes. Godric and I had a tussle with them a year or so ago. Never saw a trio like them before in my life. Heads like boulders and fists like anvils. It didn’t matter how many times I got a punch in, didn’t seem to do anything to them.”
Rosalind’s heart leapt into her throat. “You fought them? Whatever for?”
Charles blushed. “Godric and I may have been enticing a few of the sweet little bar wenches at a tavern in Edinburgh. I believe the chits had initially promised to go home with your brothers. That was before they met us, of course. They decided we might be more fun instead. Your brothers took offense.” He grinned. “It was one of the few fights I’ve ever run from. Scary blokes, your brothers.”
“Scary indeed,” she muttered, but they weren’t the true terrors of the family. Charles had no idea what sort of monster her father was. Her brothers were good men, and for as long as she’d known them they’d never done any harm to those undeserving. But they did enjoy the fairer sex, and like her, they did have tempers. She was not too surprised to learn they’d fought Ashton’s friends over women.
“I must admit, I can’t believe you thought Ash would be a poor chess player. Whatever gave you that idea, other than foolishly trusting Rafe? It’s a game of logic. It seems natural he would excel at it.” Charles leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, watching her.
Meeting his stare, Rosalind shrugged. “When someone is desperate, they are likely to believe in things they otherwise would not. I overestimated Rafe’s dislike of his own brother, and I underestimated his dislike of me.”
“Well, you did shoot the man. It would make any decent fellow a bit vengeful.” Charles finished off his slice of toast.
“How many times must I say this? He robbed me!” She slammed her teacup down on the table, making it rattle.
“Hmm, yes, so you’ve said.” Charles hummed thoughtfully. “And now you must marry Ashton.”
“Yes.” Rosalind finally ate a bit of lunch and helped herself to some marmalade.
Joanna burst into the room, a vision of loveliness in a light-blue muslin gown, her face beaming. “Rosalind! What do you think?” She performed a little twirl, and halted when she saw Charles, her cheeks turning a cherry red.
“It’s perfect,” said Rosalind.
“You look lovely, Joanna,” Charles added.
“Thank you, Charles.” She ducked her head a little as she took a seat next to Rosalind. “Is it true? You and Ashton are officially affianced? Mother was worried it would not happen, but Ashton told her this morning before he left that he was setting a date!” The hope in her voice surprised Rosalind. She’d only known Joanna a few days, but she acted as if this was news she desperately hoped was true.
“Yes, it’s true.”
“That’s wonderful! Oh, Rosalind… Wait, may I call you that?”
“Please.”
“I’m so happy for you! For us!” Joanna’s grin was nothing if not infectious. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
“Joanna, you have one. Or are you forgetting Thomasina?” Charles asked.
“She was married when I was still a child. It will be wonderful to have you here. With Rafe and Ashton around, I’m always outnumbered.”
Rosalind patted her hand. “But won’t you be married soon, and with your own children?”
Joanna paled. “My seasons have not gone well. Not one card, not one call at the house. I don’t know what’s wrong with me that no man should—”
“Now see here, Joanna,” Charles growled. “Don’t put the blame on yourself. It’s your brother who’s scaring men off, even though he doesn’t mean to. It’s the same with my sister Ella. She can’t find a soul to court her, because all the sensible men believe I’d test them in the ring at Fives Court.”
“Would you?” Rosalind asked.
“Of course. Anyone who couldn’t best me wouldn’t be allowed in my drawing room.”
“That hardly seems fair to your sister.”
Charles shrugged. “It is what
it is.”
This declaration made matters worse by the way the color drained from Joanna’s face. “Then I’ll never have a chance.”
“No, don’t say that. I can help you. Ashton and I both will.” If she was to be part of this family and Joanna wanted to marry, the least Rosalind could do was help her with that.
“Thank you.” Joanna’s eyes brightened again. “I heard we’re going shopping today for your trousseau?”
“Apparently.” Rosalind chuckled. “I look forward to it.”
“Shopping? Lord, what a bore.” Charles pushed his chair back and rose from the table. “I’m off to do a bit of riding.”
Rosalind and Joanna finished their meal before leaving the dining room.
A footman came forward. “The coach is ready. Lady Lennox is already waiting.”
“Thank you.” Joanna took Rosalind’s arm as they walked toward the carriage. “Can you believe it? We’re actually getting my brother married.”
Rosalind sighed. Yes, and in doing so she was sealing her fate.
Chapter Eighteen
“If I ever have to look at another bonnet again, I’ll die.” Rosalind laughed as she exited the milliner’s shop.
Joanna yawned. “Agreed. I didn’t know there would be so many to try on.”
After spending two hours at various clothing establishments searching for gowns and other assortments of items needed for a trousseau, the Lennox House footman was laden with boxes piled so high he could barely see. Rosalind and Joanna couldn’t stop giggling each time the poor fellow bumped into something while they walked along the street.
Regina joined them, pulling on her gloves. “I believe we must have bought half the shops out.” She nodded to the footman. “Thank you, Jacob. We’re done for the day. I believe it’s time to return home.”