by Meara Platt
Her sprained ankle chose that moment to twinge. “I think not. I had better stay off the foot for a few more days.”
Nicola’s mouth curved downward in a pout. “No, no, no. You can’t leave me alone to face that horrid Valentina on my own. She’ll be there with Julian, brazenly clinging to his arm. What am I to do? The rumors are rampant that he intends to propose to her by the end of this month.”
Rose patted her hand. “That gives us a fortnight to come up with a plan.”
Nicola’s shoulders sagged. “Come up with one? Do you mean to say you haven’t got one yet? Oh, Rolf! I was counting on you to save us! My family is doomed unless you think of something. You must! And you can’t abandon me to face that witch alone. We’ll be seated most of the time anyway, forced to endure Lady Winthrop’s daughters singing and playing their harps, both abysmally. The only one worse at the harp is your sister Lily and I’m sure she does it on purpose because she’s brilliant in every other respect. Surely she can master the workings of a few strings if she sets her mind to it.”
Nicola paused only long enough to take a deep breath before continuing. “But enough about Lily. Why isn’t your ankle healed yet? Isn’t your Uncle George the best doctor in all of England?”
“Of course he is. But he isn’t a magician.” She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Do calm down. It isn’t as if you’re facing Napoleon’s army. The countess is just one woman.”
“But an evil one!” Nicola said in an emphatic whisper.
Rose rolled her eyes again. Fortunately the din in the parlor drowned out their conversation so that no one could overhear them. “You think she’s evil because you don’t like her, but your brother must see something special in this woman to take her into his heart.”
Nicola’s eyes began to water. “Believe me, I’ve searched and searched for a reason, but I can’t find one. She’s hateful. What can I do, Rolf? I must stop their wedding or she will ruin his life.”
“Very well.” Rose sighed, wishing the countess would conveniently disappear. However, she was not about to condone her murder. “My sisters and I discussed the possibilities and finally settled on a solution. I fear it’s an imperfect one, but here’s the plan.”
“You do have one, after all!” Nicola let out a squeal. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I’m in agony over my brother’s idiotic choice. We actually have a plan? Thank heavens!”
Rose had never seen her friend so exuberant. In truth, it pained her, for her plan wasn’t very good and not likely to work. “It will require the cooperation of your aunt and uncle. They—”
“They’re in. Whatever it is, they’ll agree to it.” Nicola’s eyes were now glowing with excitement. She popped a piece of lemon cake into her mouth and eased back, her relief evident. “What must we do?”
Rose took a sip of her tea to calm her nerves. “You’re going to abduct him.”
Nicola, who had also just taken a sip of her tea to wash down the lemon cake, gasped. The tea went down the wrong pipe and she fell into a fit of coughing. Too late, Rose realized she ought to have slowly eased her friend into the plan. In her own defense, she was uncertain about it and knew that she had to blurt it out before she turned coward and didn’t propose it at all.
Well, it was out there now, hanging in midair like a cannonball on a dangerous trajectory. Nicola finally calmed enough to respond. “I must have misheard. What did you just say? Abduct my own brother?”
“You asked for a plan and I’ve come up with one. If you don’t like it, we don’t have to go through with it. After all, there’s so much involved in its proper execution. Anything can go wrong at any time. Forget I said anything. It’s too absurd to contemplate. I’m sorry I even suggested it. Can you ever forgive me?”
Nicola wiped her lips with her napkin and set it back on her lap. “Rose, you misunderstand. I love the idea. I think it’s brilliant.”
“You do?” The contents of Rose’s stomach began to churn and she felt herself grow pale, unlike Nicola, who had now stopped coughing and wore a broad grin on her face that accentuated her dimples.
“Yes, and so will my aunt and uncle think it is the best idea ever.” She edged closer and smiled conspiratorially. “What must we do to put this plan into effect?”
“Leave London. Your uncle has a lovely estate in the Cotswolds, near Chipping Camden, doesn’t he?”
Nicola frowned. “Near Birdslip to be precise, but why must we go there when my brother is here in London?”
Rose glanced about for help from her sisters, but they were busy talking to their neighbor, Lady Eloise Dayne. They’d known the kindly older woman only a few months, but she was quickly becoming as dear as a grandmother to Rose and her sisters. “Oh, Nicola, remind me to introduce you to Lady Eloise. She’s simply wonderful. We all adore her.”
Nicola nodded. “I know her already. She’s great friends with my aunt, Lady Darnley. I’ll greet her in a moment, but do go on. I’m on the edge of my seat with excitement. My brother is in London and we’re to go to Darnley Cottage, my uncle’s charming home in the Cotswolds. Why?”
“The plan is to lure him out there.” She cleared her throat. “As Lily explained it to me, the object is to separate one deer from the herd, to lure him away from the other deer who might protect him. This is what predators such as lions and tigers do when they hunt on the vast plains of Africa.”
Nicola simply stared at her. “What are you saying? Are we to put him on a packet ship to Africa?”
Rose sighed. “No, you miss my point. He’s to remain in England. We’re all to stay in England. But you say that he’s a home and hearth sort of man, only he seems to have forgotten himself while in London. So you’ll take him away for a week in the country. Your uncle will ask him to escort you all to his cottage.”
“And?”
“That’s where you’ll remind him of the simple pleasures that he truly loves and how the countess would be completely out of place in the peaceful countryside, and if he is still too dense to realize it, then… then… you’ll just have to keep him there until he comes to his senses.”
Nicola shook her head in disappointment. “It isn’t a very good plan, you know.”
Rose nodded. “I know. But do you have a better one? Short of doing away with Lady Deschanel?”
“No,” she admitted. “Will you come to the Cotswolds with us? You must, Rose. You’ve taken the lead in this delicate mission, so you might as well see it through to the end. Besides, you like Julian, so why can’t we make him like you? It can work. Once we separate him from his disreputable herd, he’s bound to notice you. He’s the stag and you’re the sweet doe he’s destined to love.” She frowned lightly. “Or wait, are you the predator who separates him from his herd? No, my family will be the predators because you need to be the sweet doe.”
Rose shook her head and sighed. “Stop, Nicola. The more you go on, the clearer it becomes to me that this scheme will never work.”
Nicola now had a stubborn set to her jaw. “It’s excellent and it will work once Julian has the chance to know you. I’ll ask my uncle to write a note to your parents today and invite you to the cottage. We must have you as bait for Julian.”
“Bait?” She didn’t wish to be compared to a wriggling worm or pieces of raw, skinned meat.
Nicola nodded. “You’re the reminder Julian needs or he’ll never break off his affair with that witch.”
“I’d rather not. Truly, I’m not necessary to this plan.”
Nicola took her hand. “Rose, I beg to differ. You’re vital. You’re the only one who can work this miracle. Good. It’s settled. You’re coming with us.”
“Oh, this is a mistake.” Rose shook her head and groaned. “I’m not a predator.”
“Heavens, whoever said you were? No, your role is the temptress. After all, your middle name is Lorelei so it must be significant. Close your eyes and think seductive thoughts.”
“I will not.”
“Especially
about my brother. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being seduced by you.”
Rose gasped, the thought of herself and Nicola’s brother with their arms wrapped around each other and their bodies arched in a passionate embrace, posed like those scandalous Greek statues on display in the halls of the various royal societies and museums around London, too shocking to contemplate. “No.”
“Please, Rolf.”
“Stop it, Nicola. I’m no temptress.”
“You are. You’re the Lorelei.”
“In name only, not in any special knowledge of the seductive arts. I wouldn’t know how to get your brother to kiss me. This is ridiculous.”
A deep, male chuckle came from behind her. “If you wish me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask.”
Rose leaped out of her chair, spilled tea all over her gown, and landed on her sore ankle, which promptly collapsed under her weight. She let out a yowl and lost her balance, certain she was about to fall to the floor and land in an unladylike sprawl. But Lord Emory caught her in time to prevent her humiliation. That he’d heard their discussion was humiliating enough.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, drawing her firmly against him and seeming to be genuinely concerned. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She felt the quiet rumble of his chest as he spoke, for her back remained pinned against his hard body. His arms were securely around her, the heat of his body so intense she melted into him. Or was it her heat? Her blood was on fire and her limbs were quivering.
She had no chance to respond, for everyone was now gathered around them and fussing over her and her ruined gown. She was so roiled with unfamiliar sensations that she couldn’t have responded to Lord Emory even if she’d known what to say.
“You’ve strained your ankle again,” her aunt Hortensia chided, her tone muffled for Rose’s heart had flown upward into her throat and was now pounding through her ears. “How will you ever recover if you insist on walking about on it? Too soon, my dear. You must rest.”
“Indeed, Miss Farthingale. You must do as your aunt suggests.” Lord Emory turned her slightly to face him as he spoke. He had an odd expression on his face, a mix of puzzlement, concern, and hilarity. She was not mistaken. The bounder was struggling to hold back a roar of laughter. She would have been more offended if it weren’t for the fact that even she considered her predicament hilarious.
Nicola added her thoughts before Rose had time to apologize to her brother for staining his clothes as she leaned against him. And why shouldn’t Nicola speak up since everyone else seemed to have an opinion on her condition? “I heartily agree, Hortensia. Isn’t that what I was just telling you, Rolf? You need plenty of rest and good country air, so you must come to Darnley Cottage with me this week.”
Lord Emory released her and turned to his sister. “You’re going to the country house? When was this decided?”
“Just last night. Yes, all of us are going and I want Rolf to come too.” She turned to Rose’s parents, who had rushed forward and were now standing beside her. “Please say you’ll let her go with us. My aunt and uncle will take excellent care of her, and my brothers and sisters adore her. She can’t attend any balls yet, so where’s the harm?”
Rose cast her parents a pleading gaze although she wasn’t certain whether she was pleading for them to consent or refuse. Lord Emory was still standing too close to her, his hand now on her elbow to brace her while she struggled to balance on her good foot.
She couldn’t think clearly while he remained so close. She’d spilled tea all over herself and ruined her new gown. Her ankle was heavily bound, and everyone in the room was now staring at her in horror. But all she could think about was Lord Emory. Had he meant his words? That she had only to ask and he would kiss her?
She glanced up to him, wondering how it would feel to have his lips on hers. Warm. Nice. Magical, she supposed. “Miss Farthingale, you’re shaking. Do sit down before you fall again.”
Heat shot into her cheeks. Indeed, everyone in the parlor was watching her, and all she could think of still were how good his lips would taste. Like coffee, perhaps. A hint of whiskey and mint. Maybe a little salt like an ocean spray.
Her mother took her into her arms and began to guide her from the parlor. “You’re right, Nicola. Perhaps a few days in the countryside is just what my daughter needs, especially after that nasty business with her kiln. Rose, I’ve never seen you look so foggy. This isn’t like you at all. You must have bumped your head.”
“No, Mama. Truly, it’s been an unsettled few days but otherwise I’m fine.”
Her mother patted her arm and then turned to Nicola and her brother, both of whom had followed her out of the parlor. “Lord Emory, we’re truly in your debt for saving Rose’s life the other day. What a frightening incident. I know my husband has extended his warmest gratitude, but it doesn’t seem enough. We are entirely indebted to you. Will you remain in the country with your family?”
His brow furrowed as he glanced at her and then Nicola. Sighing, he ran a hand roughly across the back of his neck. “I’ll have to escort them because no one else will dare ride with my unruly younger brothers. But as for remaining the entire week, I doubt it. A few days at most. I will however return at the end of the week to escort them back to London.”
Her mother nodded. “I’d be more comforted if you stayed the week, but at least you’ll be traveling with them. Although you’ve brought Sir Aubrey to task, who knows what other pottery ruffians may be lurking about? I wouldn’t want them to harm my daughter.”
Why was her mother going on as though she were a delicate fribble? Admittedly, she was still injured but the ankle was practically healed. “I’m not afraid of those scoundrels.”
Her mother frowned. “And that’s what worries me most. You ought to be, Rose.”
“But I—”
Lord Emory emitted a soft groan. “I’ll protect her, Mrs. Farthingale. I give you my word of honor.”
Rose’s eyes rounded in astonishment. What? Their ridiculous plan was falling into place? It couldn’t be. But what if it was? More important, would Lord Emory truly kiss her if she asked him?
If she were truly a fribble, she would now fall into a swoon.
But she was sensible.
She didn’t swoon.
That her limbs were tingling and her legs still as soft as melted butter was of no moment. That her heart was pounding like a war drum was a mere coincidence.
Tingles and heart pounding did not count.
Nor did the butterflies madly fluttering in her belly.
Did Lord Emory realize it would be her first kiss ever?
Would he mind?
CHAPTER 4
“THANK GOODNESS YOU’RE here!” Nicola accosted Rose as soon as she and the rest of her family made their way into Lord and Lady Winthrop’s elegant townhouse the following evening. Rose’s ankle was feeling better so she had decided to attend the musicale after all. Her improving ankle and the dozen desperate notes from Nicola begging her to attend had swayed her.
“You look so pretty, Nicola.” Her friend wore a lovely mint green gown that brought out the cool green of her eyes and the lush auburn of her hair. She looked as refreshingly sweet as the lime ices one would find in the best confectionery shops.
Nicola blushed lightly. “So do you. But you always do.”
“Nonsense, I feel so uncomfortable. I’m afraid to breathe for worry that I’ll damage the delicate fabric.” Her own gown was of the palest blue silk, almost a white-blue that shimmered in the glow of candlelight. “I’m not good at feigning elegance, but I have practiced walking around with my nose in the air. However, I shall be careful not become too full of myself. I’ll keep my feet firmly planted on the ground and my eyes clearly focused on where I’m walking.”
To emphasize her point, she gave a little wave of the decorative white cane she sported that almost matched the color of her gown. She’d borrowed it from Hortensia. Not that she really needed the cane, but it was her first full ev
ening of keeping pressure on her ankle and she didn’t wish to make a fool of herself if it gave out.
They both giggled and continued to chatter as they made their way outdoors into Lady Winthrop’s garden. The walk they chose was lit with pretty lanterns hanging off lush tree branches. In the distance, fancier torches lit the lesser traveled walks.
Rose took a deep breath. “Isn’t it a lovely night? I’m so glad Lady Winthrop decided to hold the recital out here. Can you imagine the crush of hot, perspiring bodies crammed inside their music room?” She inhaled the light scent of roses, so much more pleasant than the heavy perfumes the older ladies and gentlemen seemed to adore.
The rain earlier in the day had ended so the Winthrop garden had managed to dry out in time. The summer sun had warmed the roses, and their petals were draped in full bloom across the arched trellises, their fragrant lemon and rose scent filling the air. “Is your brother here yet?”
Nicola gave a curt nod. “He and his countess are in the card room. Julian,” she said with a wrinkle to her nose to mark her displeasure, “is involved in a high stakes game of whist.”
Rose arched an eyebrow. “Whist? It’s a popular game. Doesn’t sound quite so alarming as you make it out to be.”
“It isn’t the game so much as the people involved and their wagers.” She quickly surveyed their little piece of the garden to make certain no one could overhear them. “They’re betting items of clothing.”
Rose shook her head in confusion. “That’s ridiculous. The loser has to purchase clothes for the winner? The haberdashers and modistes ought to be pleased.”
“No, silly. They’re not betting on articles of clothing to put on. They’re betting on what’s to be taken off. As in, the loser strips off a tie or a glove or a shirt. Or a gown if the loser is a female. But they won’t enforce their bets here. They’ll go to their private gaming club later and take a private room to watch the losers strip off—”
“That’s appalling!” Rose didn’t require further detail. “How did you learn of this? And why didn’t you tell me all the gloriously sordid details sooner?” She gasped. “Will your brother partake in this… in…”