A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante

by Laura Martin

  She’d seen Thomas’s reaction when she had suggested they return to their rooms immediately after the wedding, seen the desire overshadowed by something else. Throughout their short relationship he had acted warily around her and she rather supposed it was because of the small life growing inside her, and the manner in which it was conceived.

  If she was truthful, Rosa was nervous. She didn’t know how she would react to another man’s hands on her, but this wasn’t any man. This was Thomas. Her husband. The man she wondered if she was falling in love with.

  ‘I’m sure you’re weary, my dear,’ Thomas said as he unlocked the door and escorted her into the set of rooms.

  ‘It has been a wonderful day,’ Rosa said.

  ‘You must rest before our journey to England begins tomorrow.’

  Rosa nodded, wondering whether he would take his place in her bedroom immediately or leave her to change first before coming in.

  Thomas stopped outside her bedroom door and kissed her gently on the forehead, his hands lingering on her arms as if reluctant to let go. Then all too soon he had turned around and disappeared into his own room.

  Rosa darted into her bedroom, closed the door and rested her head on the painted wood. It was cool under her forehead and immediately she found herself calming. She wasn’t being asked to do anything she didn’t want to do, nothing more than what thousands of women around the world did on their wedding nights every single day.

  Slowly she started to loosen her clothing, letting the layers drop to the floor one after another. Once only her chemise remained Rosa diligently tidied her clothes away and stood looking nervously at the door.

  She had no nightclothes, nothing special to slip into on her wedding night. For the last few weeks she had slept in a simple chemise, not needing any further layers in the heat of the Italian nights. It hadn’t bothered her until now, when she wondered what Thomas would think to his bride greeting him in her cotton undergarments.

  Rosa grimaced and then climbed into bed. She felt a fluttering in her stomach, acknowledged the nerves that multiplied by the minute as she waited for her husband.

  Ten minutes passed, and then fifteen. Despite reclining on the stack of plush pillows Rosa didn’t feel in the least sleepy. There wasn’t a chance she would doze off on her wedding night.

  * * *

  When forty minutes had passed without a peep from Thomas, Rosa got up from the bed and padded over to the door. Maybe he was waiting for her in his bedroom. She had never been married before, didn’t know the etiquette. Her mother hadn’t deemed it necessary to impart any feminine wisdom to her, so maybe it was usual for the bride to go and seek out her husband on the wedding night.

  Feeling a little foolish and uncertain, Rosa opened the door to her room and stepped out. There were no candles burning, suggesting Thomas had indeed retired to his bedroom. No doubt waiting for her and wondering what was taking his new wife so long.

  Quietly Rosa tapped on the door and when she didn’t receive an answer turned the handle and pushed it open. The room was in darkness, but a soft glow was cast across the bed by the moonlight shining in through the window. Rosa could see Thomas’s hair on the pillow, his body beneath the sheets. Summoning up her courage, Rosa stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. Without listening to all the tiny doubts clamouring to be heard in her head, she lifted up the covers and slipped in beside Thomas.

  As soon as her body touched his she felt him stiffen. For a few seconds she expected him to touch her, to murmur something to her and then to kiss her until she begged him to do more. That was what she’d been imagining ever since their first kiss on the balcony, what she’d pictured a thousand different ways each more pleasurable than the last.

  He didn’t move. Rosa lifted her hand, felt it tremble, but continued anyway. Gently she placed it on his chest and felt his heart thumping beneath his skin. With her own breathing becoming shallow Rosa let her fingers trail down Thomas’s body, feeling his muscles tense.

  ‘Rosa,’ he groaned, sounding almost pained.

  She moved in closer to him, aware that as yet he still hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything but accept her caresses. Something felt wrong, but she didn’t know what. Maybe it was just her inexperience.

  Angling her head upwards she moved in to kiss him, softly brushing her lips against his. For a short moment he kissed her back, went to grasp her and pull her close and Rosa felt herself relax. He wanted her.

  Then his hands were on her, but pushing her away. She saw him leap out of bed, wondering how he moved quite so quickly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked sharply.

  Rosa felt her entire world crumble. She’d done something terribly wrong, broken some rule she didn’t even know about. All she’d wanted was to be a good wife, to show Thomas she would not let her past stop her fulfilling any part of her new role.

  ‘I thought...’ she stuttered.

  ‘You can’t be in here, Rosa.’

  ‘It’s our wedding night.’ She heard how pathetic and lost her voice sounded, hated the naivety there.

  ‘Go back to bed, Rosa.’

  Suddenly she rallied. This was not her fault, this was not normal. Throughout her short time as a debutante all the girls had whispered about what occurred once you were married. Everyone knew intimacy in the bedroom was saved for the wedding night, but then a husband would insist on consummating the union, and often.

  They were married, there was absolutely no reason for them not to be intimate. Unless...

  Rosa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth and then to her abdomen. He thought of her as sullied goods. She was carrying another man’s child, she’d already given herself to someone else. He might care for her enough to marry her to protect her future, or whatever reason he insisted on keeping to himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to be intimate with her.

  She could feel her thoughts running away from her. A small voice of reason tried to protest, tried to tell her that Thomas did find her attractive, to remind her of the passion she’d felt when they’d kissed, but the horror and the embarrassment were way too much.

  ‘We’ll discuss this in the morning.’

  Rosa climbed out of the bed, barely able to look Thomas in the eye. Wrapping her arms around her, she cursed her thin chemise, wishing she was wearing something more robust, more conservative.

  Quickly she backed away from the bed, watching as Thomas kept as much distance between them as possible as if he was afraid she might attempt to rush at him again.

  She’d almost reached the door by the time she’d recovered enough to meet his gaze.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, forcing her voice to remain firm and hating the slight quiver at the end of the sentence.

  ‘We will talk about it in the morning,’ Thomas repeated firmly.

  Rosa felt the tears brimming in her eyes and knew she could not let him see her cry. She was confused, shaken by his rigid rejection of her, but she still had a modicum of pride.

  Taking a deep breath, Rosa concentrated on holding her head high as she turned and walked from the room. She didn’t look back, she couldn’t, for as soon as she’d turned around the tears had started to fall down her cheeks and nothing on earth would entice her to let Thomas see how upset she was.

  * * *

  Thomas cursed and threw his boot across the room. It was difficult to get on at the best of times, but this morning, after tossing and turning all night long, the tough leather had got the better of him.

  Forcing himself to calm down, Thomas retrieved the boot and tried again. Losing control would not help. He needed a clear head and a silken tongue. Rosa was a sensible woman, last night had just been a simple misunderstanding. Once he had explained things he was sure she would come round.

  Thomas knew he was deluding himself.
The look of hurt and confusion as he’d jumped out of bed, the sobs he’d heard through the walls despite her attempts to muffle them—all of it confirmed that he was a complete and utter bastard.

  He could protest for hours that he hadn’t led her on, hadn’t let her believe their marriage was anything other than one of convenience, but Thomas knew it wasn’t true. Yes, he had told her they were marrying so she would get the protection of his name and he would gain a companion for his mother and someone to oversee the minor estate business whilst he was away, but his actions hadn’t backed up that cold reasoning. He’d seduced her, wooed her, courted her and then finally kissed her. Of course Rosa had been expecting a conventional wedding night.

  Thomas knocked softly on her door. No response. He paced backwards and forwards for a few minutes before knocking harder. Still no response.

  Letting out a low growl, he banged on the door with his fist before realising he was taking out his guilt on the ornately carved inanimate object.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later Rosa still hadn’t emerged from the room and Thomas began to feel uneasy. She had every right to avoid him for as long as possible, but their ship left in less than three hours and he hadn’t heard even the faintest hint of movement.

  ‘Rosa, can I come in?’

  He waited, listening for any sound that might reassure him.

  ‘Rosa? Again nothing. ‘Rosa, I’m coming in.’

  He waited for another few seconds, half-expecting her to rush at the door to prevent him invading her private space, but there was still no sound. Gently he tried the door. It wasn’t locked and opened smoothly.

  Inside the room was filled with morning light. And completely empty.

  ‘Rosa?’ Thomas shouted, looking round in disbelief before going to search the rest of their rooms. It didn’t take very long. With just two bedrooms, a sitting room, a bathroom and the large balcony there weren’t many places to hide and Rosa wasn’t in any of them.

  ‘Rosa,’ he shouted again, just in case he was being completely blind, but the reality of the situation was already sinking in. She’d left. Less than one day into their marriage and she’d left him.

  A wave of concern washed over him. Rosa was young and pretty in a city she didn’t know. Although in appearance she could pass for an Italian, as soon as she opened her mouth it was obvious she was foreign, which made her even more of a target. With no money of her own she wouldn’t last more than a few hours.

  Visions of all the awful fates that could befall her flashed across Thomas’s mind and quickly he tried to suppress them. Imagining Rosa set upon by thieves or cornered by one of the many rowdy groups of sailors that tore through Venice as the ships docked made him curse out loud.

  Quickly he dashed out of their rooms and down the stairs to the street, all the while trying to work out exactly where Rosa might seek solace in this city of strangers.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rosa stared out over the rail at the shimmering water and frowned. It was getting late and soon the captain would want to weigh anchor and set sail, with or without his most influential passenger.

  When Rosa had first fled their rented rooms not long after the first rays of sunshine had filtered in through the windows to signal a new day she had been so upset and angry that she’d planned on not informing Thomas of her plans at all. He hadn’t given her the courtesy of telling her the truth about their marriage so why should she let him know of her plans. She’d boarded the ship, early, been shown to a small but perfectly comfortable cabin, and spent the morning pacing the deck and brooding.

  Finally she’d relented and found a boy to take a message to Thomas to tell him of her whereabouts, but that had been well over an hour ago and there was still no sign of her odious husband.

  Perhaps it would be better to sail for England alone. The passage had already been paid for and once back on English soil she could just pretend the whole embarrassing affair hadn’t happened.

  Just then Rosa caught sight of a familiar figure sauntering towards the ship as if he had all the time in the world. She heard herself growling and clamped a hand over her mouth. It was just like Thomas to expect the entire world to revolve around him, to be confident a ship wouldn’t leave until he was aboard.

  She wondered if she should retire to her cabin, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. Last night she had run from Thomas, but today she would not. With hours to analyse his behaviour, to revisit every little thing they’d said to each other, every little thing they’d done, Rosa knew he had been hiding something from her all along. He’d proposed, and then when she hadn’t fallen into his arms, a twittering mass of gratitude, he’d courted her and seduced her. She’d even found herself thinking she might be falling in love with him. Today she knew he was in the wrong and she wouldn’t leave to save him the embarrassment of having to face her, even if her actions hurt her as well.

  ‘Rosa,’ Thomas said in greeting, obviously aware of the audience they had on the ship.

  ‘Lord Hunter.’

  ‘I hope you are well.’

  ‘As well as can be expected.’

  Thomas stepped closer, his voice dropping low, his hand reaching out to touch her elbow.

  ‘I was worried about you, Rosa. Don’t do anything like that again.’

  ‘Like what?’ Rosa asked sweetly.

  ‘Don’t run off.’

  ‘You noticed my absence?’

  ‘Of course I noticed your absence. I was worried out of my mind.’ He ran a hand through tousled hair and Rosa realised he was speaking the truth. ‘I’ve spent the entire morning chasing around Venice, imagining you dead or robbed or worse.’

  ‘Worse than dead?’

  ‘Don’t joke, Rosa. I was worried about you.’

  ‘I sent a message.’

  ‘An hour ago.’

  ‘I didn’t expect you to be up any earlier. Not after the exertions of your wedding day.’

  ‘Our wedding day.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He was standing close to her and they both spoke in low voices, conscious of the crew preparing the ship to leave around them.

  ‘Rosa,’ he said, having the common sense to break off first from their shared gaze. ‘What happened last night...’ He trailed off.

  Rosa waited for the apology she knew would never come. Thomas was too used to getting his own way, too confident in his ability to win people over.

  ‘I thought we had an understanding,’ he said eventually.

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘We both gained something from the marriage. You get the protection of my name for yourself and your child. I get a wife who will look after my family interests and be a companion for my mother.’

  She regarded him without answering for over a minute. As the seconds ticked by he began fidgeting, something she’d never seen him do before.

  ‘Lord Hunter, do you have any family interests on this ship?’ Rosa asked, satisfied with Thomas’s confused expression.

  ‘No.’

  ‘And is your mother currently in the vicinity requiring a companion?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I suggest we talk again when we reach England.’

  ‘Rosa...’

  ‘Lady Hunter,’ she corrected icily.

  ‘Rosa...’

  The rest of his protestation was lost to her as she spun on her heel and stalked off across the deck and down to her cabin below.

  ‘Don’t worry, little one,’ Rosa whispered as she bent her neck and looked down at her now sizeable bump. ‘Mama is here for you. We don’t need anyone else.’

  * * *

  Four and a half weeks. It was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. Four and a half weeks they had been on this ship and she hadn’t uttered a singl
e word to him. When he greeted her she nodded politely in acknowledgement, but didn’t speak. Whenever he approached she neatly extracted herself from whatever conversation she was engaged in with their few fellow passengers or the captain and glided away. He hadn’t even had the chance to ask her a direct question and force an answer from her lips.

  ‘Heave!’ the first mate shouted from a few feet away.

  Thomas watched as the sailors battled with the sail, trying to rein it in and secure it before the wind battered the ship even more. Four and a half weeks they’d enjoyed sunny skies and balmy temperatures and today, within sight of the English coastline, a storm was coming.

  ‘Heave! Heave!’

  The order was shouted again and again and Thomas could see the exertion on the sailors’ faces. Suddenly one toppled, letting go of the rope which snaked through his arms, whipping backwards and forward like a wild animal. Quickly the other men braced themselves, but Thomas could see it wouldn’t be enough. He jumped forward, caught hold of the rope, clenched his hands into fists and added his weight and strength to the line of men.

  ‘Heave! Heave!’

  Feeling his muscles bulge and burn, he heaved alongside the sailors, desperately trying to pull in the sail. Little by little they advanced and by the time it was safely tied down Thomas was sweating despite the bracing wind.

  Just as he was rubbing his hands together to get rid of the rope burn Thomas felt the first of the fat raindrops on his face, and within seconds the rain was bouncing off the deck. In the distance the clouds looked ominous and dark and Thomas knew it wouldn’t be long before the thunder and lightning hit.

  ‘Lord Hunter,’ the captain had to shout to be heard over the crashing of the waves. ‘Your wife just headed below deck looking unwell. We’re advising all passengers to stay in their cabins until the worst of the storm passes.’

  ‘Will we reach the harbour today?’

  They were heading for Portsmouth, the town almost visible on the horizon, but Thomas knew the ship battered by a storm might end up anywhere along the coast.