by Laura Martin
‘And yet she turned you down,’ Signor Granese said quietly. ‘Why do you think that was?’
Thomas could still see her confused expression, the hope tinged with mistrust written all over her face. She had wanted to say yes, wanted to take the easy path and forget about all her worries, but she had been too wary, too mistrusting.
‘She doesn’t trust me.’
‘Nonsense,’ Signor Granese said. ‘She travels with you alone, allows you to take her off into the deserted countryside. The lady trusts you.’
‘I don’t think she trusts anyone, not really.’
As he took another mouthful of wine he remembered the quizzical look on her face as he’d explained his reasons for proposing. In his head he’d expected her to be so grateful for the opportunity he was willing to give her she wouldn’t question his motives too closely, but that had been the real sticking point. She hadn’t believed him when he’d said he purely wanted a companion for his mother and a wife in name, to provide an heir and look after his estate.
He sighed. He shouldn’t be too surprised—one of the things he liked most about Rosa was her shrewd intelligence, the way her dark eyes bored into you as if she were searching for your very soul. Well, today he’d certainly come up short in her estimation.
‘Women are the same the world over. They want flattery, romance. They want to be chased, pursued, made to feel like the most important person in your life.’
‘Rosa’s not like that.’
Signor Granese shrugged. ‘It’s your choice, but try it and see. Show her the fantasy, the idea of the romantic life you could lead, and I guarantee she will say yes to you.’
The last thing he wanted was to seduce Rosa with romance. His reaction to her earlier that evening had been uncomfortable: the acute desire, the longing to touch her, to kiss her lips. He’d managed to get himself under control, to convince himself it was only natural for a man to have urges when he spent so long cooped up with an attractive young woman. Nevertheless, he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to keep his desire at bay if he started manufacturing intimate situations. Too long he’d spent celibate to ruin things now.
The landlord moved away, bidding Thomas goodnight and leaving a candle flickering on the counter to help guide him to bed.
Thomas finished the rest of his wine in one gulp and stood. He wasn’t sure why he was quite so keen to have this matter resolved so quickly. Part of him wondered if it was the impending sense of something going wrong, the knowledge that he had outlived his older brother already and he was only a few months off the age his father had first noted symptoms of the disease that plagued their family. He had an urge to get things sorted, to tie up any loose ends and ensure everyone he cared for was provided for. Then he would be free to travel again, to set off into the world and pack as many different experiences into his life as possible.
‘Romance,’ he growled under his breath, as if the idea offended him. He pushed back the high stool he was sitting on and got to his feet. The irksome thing was the landlord was probably right. He’d seen how Rosa blushed when she looked at him, how she relaxed when it was just the two of them. A few days of courting and in all likelihood she would say yes to his proposal. The question was, could he be that ruthless?
Chapter Ten
Rosa paced backwards and forward across the small bedroom, trying to prepare herself for the uncertainties of the morning. Part of her wondered if she had dreamed the surreal events of the evening before. The proposal had been unexpected to say the least and she wondered if in the cold light of day Thomas might want to just forget the idea.
Eventually she could delay her descent downstairs to breakfast no longer and cautiously opened the door leading out to the corridor. It was deserted. Rosa sighed in relief—she had half-expected Thomas to be waiting there ready to pounce on her as soon as she emerged. He was a man used to getting his own way, she didn’t expect him to take her refusal without any protestation.
‘Good morning, Rosa,’ Thomas said in her ear as she stepped outside. He must have been waiting just round the corner, out of view.
She jumped, darting her hand to her mouth to prevent a squeal of shock.
‘I trust you slept well.’
She hadn’t slept at all, but she felt a strange obstinacy blossoming. She would not let him see how much he’d unsettled her.
‘Wonderfully, thank you. The bed was very comfortable.’ She smiled as if she didn’t have a care in the world, trying not to stiffen as Thomas took her elbow and guided her downstairs.
‘I’ve asked the landlord to lay on a special breakfast. You ate so little last night.’
‘There really was no need.’
‘Nonsense.’ Thomas waved a dismissive hand. ‘You’re eating for two. I wouldn’t want the child you are carrying to go without sustenance because of me.’
Rosa’s eyes narrowed.
‘I’m sure one evening without food would not make too much of a difference.’
‘I want only the best for you, both of you.’
Rosa looked at him with raised eyebrows, trying to convey that she knew what he was doing and she wouldn’t fall for it. His concern for the baby she was carrying was genuine, that she knew. Throughout the time they had spent together he had taken the utmost care not to endanger Rosa’s unborn child and to ensure she was well provided for at all times. That had been done discreetly and without any need for him to signpost what he was doing.
‘I was thinking; we probably should ask a doctor to check you over before we commence our voyage back to England. Ensure you are fit to travel.’
‘Is that really necessary?’
Thomas shrugged. ‘We won’t know until the doctor gives his verdict.’
‘And if he says I’m not fit to travel?’
‘I know of a wonderful villa on the edge of Lake Garda. Rumour has it the last tenant left quite abruptly so we may get it at a premium rate.’ Thomas’s eyes were sparkling as he grinned at her and Rosa couldn’t hide her own smile.
Breakfast smelled divine as they entered the small dining room and Rosa felt her stomach gurgle in anticipation. She might have protested an evening without food did not matter, but reality was very different.
‘Good morning,’ a ruddy-faced young man said in English, rising as they entered. He was seated beside a pretty young woman of about Rosa’s age. Both had breakfast laid out before them, but the man only had eyes for his wife.
‘Fingers Peterson,’ Thomas roared as he regarded the other man.
‘Hunter. What on earth are you doing here?’
‘Fingers?’ the pretty young woman said in a soft, low voice.
‘I beg your pardon, madam. Just a nickname from our schooling days.’
‘This is Lord Hunter, my dear. Most decent chap at Eton.’
Thomas had been to Eton. Of course he had. Her mother would be fluttering her eyelashes and talking about pure bloodlines right about now.
‘Hunter, this is my wife, Francesca. The most beautiful and sweetest woman in the world.’
They were newlyweds. No one who had spent more than a few months together could look that happy. Rosa thought of her parents. After twenty-five years of marriage they barely spoke to one another and when they did it was usually for her mother to admonish her father about something.
‘A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Peterson,’ Thomas said, taking the young woman’s hand and bowing over it.
The Petersons turned expectantly to Rosa and she felt herself begin to fidget.
‘I had no idea you were married, Hunter. What a dark horse you are. No one’s heard from you for years, travelling the globe, and it turns out you’ve got yourself hitched to a beautiful Italian mystery woman.’
Rosa opened her mouth to protest, but felt Thomas’s hand slip around her waist and
squeeze ever so gently.
‘And you’re expecting a child, how wonderful for you both,’ Francesca Peterson chipped in.
The words of protest died in Rosa’s throat. This was the first time that anyone had directly mentioned her pregnancy—that anyone had noticed solely from her appearance. She wouldn’t be able to hide the growing bump any more. The dresses she had were already stretching over her lower abdomen and she knew her face and figure were filling out as happened to all pregnant women. Now her pregnancy would announce to the world she had lost her virtue and she would have to get used to being shunned by all the decent, godly members of society.
She’d expected to feel stronger, more defiant. She was unmarried and with child, but she’d hoped she would still want to shout it from the rooftops, to hold her head up high and withstand the withering looks and unkind remarks. Instead she wished no one would notice, that she could go back to carrying her child in secret. It was a sobering thought.
‘My darling Rosa,’ Thomas said, lifting and kissing her hand. ‘Although not entirely Italian, she is with child.’
‘Congratulations!’ Peterson beamed.
Rosa smiled weakly.
‘Sit down, my dear,’ Thomas instructed, pushing her gently on to the long bench. ‘You need to eat something.’
‘I don’t think I’ve seen you for, what? Four years. And then we bump into each other in the wilds of Italy,’ Peterson was saying. Rosa felt as though the words were washing over her, but not quite penetrating her consciousness. ‘The last time we were together must have been your dear brother’s funeral.’
Rosa felt Thomas stiffen beside her and frowned. She hadn’t known he’d once had a brother.
‘Your brother?’ Rosa murmured quietly. The look Thomas shot her would have silenced a lion.
‘He was such a decent chap.’
‘He’s sorely missed,’ Thomas murmured. ‘So what brings you to Italy?’ Changing the subject quickly.
‘Honeymoon. I never managed to leave the Home Counties as we planned to at school. None of this travelling the world, but once we were married it seemed like the perfect opportunity to see a little of the foreign lands.’
‘And how are you enjoying your honeymoon, Mrs Peterson?’ Thomas asked.
It was the most innocent of questions, but Rosa would swear the new Mrs Peterson blushed a little under Thomas’s gaze.
‘It is most satisfactory, thank you, Lord Hunter.’
Not the most ringing endorsement of married life, but her husband didn’t seem to notice.
‘Are you honeymooning, too?’ Peterson asked.
‘No. We are travelling to Venice to find a passage home to England.’
Mrs Peterson beamed in delight. ‘We are heading to Venice, too. We must join parties.’
‘What a fabulous idea,’ Mr Peterson agreed.
Rosa felt Thomas stiffen beside her. It would put a stop to any further marriage proposals on his part. She should be encouraging the coupling of their parties, but part of her wanted to push the Petersons away. She enjoyed the moments spent alone with Thomas, much more than an unmarried lady should. And if they travelled together they would have to keep up the charade of being married and of the child she was carrying being of Thomas’s blood. It would be exhausting.
‘We set out straight after breakfast,’ Thomas said eventually.
‘Brilliant. No need to dilly-dally in the provinces. We’ll be in Venice in no time.’ Peterson raised a glass of orange juice in a toast. ‘To travelling companions.’
‘Travelling companions,’ Rosa and Thomas murmured, a little less enthusiastically than their new friends.
* * *
‘Why on earth did you tell them we are married?’ Rosa hissed as she ran across the yard, trying to keep up with Thomas.
‘It seemed the most logical thing to do,’ he said with a shrug. ‘It was either that or explain why I’m travelling with a pregnant, unmarried, unescorted young woman.’
Thomas had to hide a smile at the Italian expletives that coursed from Rosa’s mouth. She’d certainly learnt some of the native tongue during her time in the country, although hardly anything that could be used in polite conversation.
‘And now we’re stuck with this pretence for the rest of our journey.’
‘Think of it as a rehearsal,’ Thomas said.
‘A rehearsal?’
‘For when we are married.’
‘We are not getting married.’
He turned quickly, causing Rosa to barrel into him, and caught her arms gently.
‘We will be married, my sweet.’
He could see the defiance flicker in Rosa’s eyes and wondered if this was why he liked her so much. She knew, in her heart, that the right thing to do was marry him, but still she protested. It was thrilling, if a little frustrating.
‘I could just tell your friends we are not married. That this is not your child.’
‘Go ahead.’
He saw her hesitate, then had to hide a smile as she huffed and stalked away.
It had been a shock to see Peterson as they walked in to breakfast, but now he had reconciled himself to the idea of sharing the journey with his old school friend he thought things had worked out to his advantage. He’d sensed Rosa stiffen besides him as her pregnancy had been noticed, heard her breathing accelerate and felt her agitation increase. For all her desire to not care what the world thought of her, Rosa had been brought up to be a respectable woman with good morals. Admitting to two near-strangers that you were unwed and were expecting an illegitimate child could not be easy.
So he’d given her an escape, a way to preserve her dignity with just a little lie. The timing could not have been better. Hopefully Rosa would realise her entire life would be a series of uncomfortable encounters if she insisted on raising her child alone.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later he was sitting across from her in the carriage, waving to the Petersons from the window. They had agreed to stop for lunch in one of the villages about three hours away, but until then he had Rosa to himself.
‘Lady Rosa Hunter,’ he murmured.
‘What was that?’
‘Just familiarising myself with your new name. Lady Rosa Hunter.’
‘I like my current name, thank you very much.’
‘How would you like me to address you in front of the Petersons?’ he asked, watching her wriggle in her seat. ‘Lady H.? Darling Rosa? Rosie-Posie? Sweetheart? Sugar plum?’
‘Just my name will do very well,’ Rosa said, trying hard not to rise to his baiting.
‘We are meant to be in the first throes of love,’ Thomas mused. ‘Maybe we should endeavour to be closer to one another.’
Before Rosa could protest he slid in to sit beside her, looping an arm around her waist.
She regarded him with a haughty expression, but through the thin fabric of her dress Thomas could feel the pounding of her heart.
‘I’m sure the Petersons will expect us to kiss,’ Thomas murmured. ‘I’m assured all newlywed couples do.’
They were close, their faces mere inches apart, and as Thomas’s gaze flickered down to Rosa’s lips he realised he wanted this. Not because it would further his aim, but because he wanted to taste her lips, to run his fingers through her hair and pull her against him. He wanted her.
‘I think ours was a more practical marriage, most assuredly not a love match.’
Thomas leaned in closer and could feel her breath dancing across his skin. He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger for a few seconds. Rosa swallowed, her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Thomas felt something tighten deep inside him.
‘Well we must have liked each other at least enough to consummate our marriage,’ Th
omas said, his voice low.
Rosa glanced down, then back up, her eyes meeting Thomas’s. He saw confusion in them, tinged with desire, but there was something else as well. She was nervous, he realised, more nervous than she should be.
Slowly, against his better judgement, Thomas sat back, breaking off the intimate connection between them.
‘What happened, Rosa?’ he asked, the levity gone from his voice.
‘Wh-what do you mean?’ Rosa stuttered.
‘How did you end up being alone and pregnant?’ It was blunt, but he knew Rosa wouldn’t tell him anything unless he asked directly.
‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what occurs between a man and a woman for a child to be made.’
Thomas levelled his best aristocratic stare at her.
Rosa sighed. ‘It’s not a particularly interesting story.’
‘Like it or not, Rosa, our lives are tied together at least until we reach England. Help me to understand what happened to you.’
‘What do you want to know?’ Rosa asked, looking at him with large eyes imploring him to skim over the details.
‘How did you meet him?’
‘David? I’ve known him as long as I can remember.’ Rosa stared off into the distance as if remembering a time far back in her childhood. ‘My family had a country house in Kent and David’s family owned the property next door.’
‘You were of an age?’
Rosa shrugged. ‘He was four years older than me, but he had a younger sister I spent my summers with.’
The allure of a friend’s older brother. Thomas had known of a few young women seduced by someone who should have been looking out for their welfare, not exploiting it.
‘So what happened?’
‘I allowed myself to be seduced.’ She paused, her eyes flitting about the carriage as if she weren’t sure where to look. ‘There wasn’t any grand plot on his part, no excessive subterfuge.’
‘Did you love him?’
Thomas realised the answer to her question actually mattered to him. He wasn’t just asking because he wanted to work out the best way to proceed with her resistance to his proposal, he truly wanted to know if she had been in love with this man.