The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5)

by Meara Platt

  Lady Darnley gasped. “Nicola, watch your language.”

  Nicola shrugged off the admonition and huffed again. “Only he wasn’t acting like one around you. He only acts that way around me. Bored and disinterested. He barely tolerates me. I’ve never been so insulted in my life.”

  Rose patted her gently on the back in a vain attempt to calm her before she worked herself into a temper. She was afraid her friend would begin to hurl objects at Lord Randall’s head the moment he reappeared. “Why do you care what he thinks about you? I thought you didn’t like him?”

  “I don’t.” She eased back and crossed her arms over her chest in imitation of her brother’s stance moments earlier. “At least, I thought I didn’t.”

  Rose arched an eyebrow. “And now you’re not sure?”

  “This must be my punishment for what I did to you. Now I’m to be made to suffer knowing that Lord Randall has eyes only for you. And I can’t even blame him because you’re wonderful and I’m not. I’m a wretchedly scheming wretch, and I deserve to have a wretchedly pitiful and lonely life after the wretched thing I did to you.”

  Rose stifled her amusement, for her own family had a tendency toward the dramatically theatrical as well. “Honestly, Nicola. You deserve to be happy. We both do. It isn’t our fault that eligible gentlemen are not flocking to us like geese.”

  Nicola turned to Lord and Lady Darnley. “What are we doing wrong? Why isn’t courtship as easy as it’s made out to be?”

  The elderly pair gazed and each other, love evident in their eyes, before turning to face her and Nicola. “Love is never easy,” Lady Darnley responded gently. “It’s much more than a pleasant tea among friends or a round of balls and soirees. Love is about finding the one person who appreciates your strengths and weaknesses. Someone who understands you better than you understand yourself.”

  Lord Darnley nodded. “A flock of bachelors will do you no good. All you need is one. The right one. The special man who encourages you to flourish. Oh, how can I explain it better? Help me, my love.”

  Lady Darnley tossed him a smile as she effortlessly picked up on his thought. “You and your beloved are two halves of a circle, together making a perfect whole, but neither of you ever overshadows the other.”

  “Love doesn’t travel a smooth course,” Lord Darnley added, clearing his throat. “Ours certainly wasn’t, was it my love? No, indeed. There are plenty of bumps in the road along the way, but you’ll appreciate the journey more because of those bumpy parts.”

  Although Nicola nodded, she wasn’t quite satisfied. “It has all been bumps so far.”

  Rose nodded in agreement. “Lots of them. Is finding love as difficult for men?”

  “Indeed, yes. Much more so,” Lord Darnley said, reaching for a piece of raisin cake and popping half the slice into his mouth. He washed it down with a sip of tea and then continued. “Men are not domestic by nature. They tend to run wild until the right woman comes along and tames them. But they are never eager to be tamed and so they resist.”

  “Uncle, you’ll never convince me that Julian has found the right woman to tame him. Countess Deschanel is an evil witch and she’s obviously cast a dark spell on him. As for Lord Randall, he isn’t wild. He’s as mild a gentleman as any woman could ever meet. Any milder and he’d be in a stupor.”

  Lord Darnley sighed and shook his head. “Fine, Nicola. Hold to your opinions. What does this old man know?”

  Rose remained a few moments longer chatting with Nicola, the earl, and his countess. “Well, I had better fetch my sketchbook and pencils.” She skittered upstairs, hastily gathered her supplies, and was about to make her way downstairs when Julian emerged from his room at the same moment.

  “Rose,” he said in a husky murmur, his breath seeming to catch. “Here, let me help you with those.”

  He reached for her book and pencils and took them out of her hands before she could utter a protest, his fingers grazing hers and instantly setting off tingles everywhere on her body. “We parted badly. I was in a temper because of all that happened, but I took it out on you most of all. You have every reason to be angry with me.”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. My part in what happened to you was inexcusable. But you will be relieved to know that I hardly thought of you. Not once in the seven days and fourteen hours you were gone.” It was of no moment that her heart yearned for this man.

  “Seven days, fourteen hours, and thirty-two minutes, to be precise. But who’s counting?” He grinned wryly, almost mirthlessly, and then his gaze turned serious. “Despite my best intentions, nothing has been settled yet. I wish you could remain here for another several weeks until this matter of concern to me is addressed, but it is not to be. Your family expects you home, and Lord and Lady Darnley have obligations in town that cannot be put off any longer.”

  She tipped her chin up. “We’ve managed quite nicely without you, my lord. So do feel free to go about your business without concern for me.”

  “I shall, but it’s good to see you again, Rose. You look beautiful, you always do.”

  “You’re merely being polite. Have you not noticed? I have a bee sting on my chin.” How was she ever to fall out of love with Julian when her heart leaped joyfully whenever he was near? She liked that his compliments weren’t flowery or obsequious, but appealingly direct and simple. Indeed, simple words that came straight from his heart.

  He had a way of looking at her that made her feel beautiful.

  He paused on the steps and turned her to face him. “A bee sting?” He tucked a finger under her chin to raise it to his view. “It must have faded. Your skin is perfect, not a single red welt to mar your creamy complexion.” His thumb moved lightly across her lips. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard because his touch felt so good. “Rose, I—”

  “Ah, there you are, Julian. Wait for me. I’ll join you in a moment.” John caught up to them near the bottom of the stairs and held out his arm for Rose. “Since Julian has his hands full carrying your supplies, may I have the pleasure of escorting you?”

  Bumpy is right.

  Nicola would not be happy to see her enter the salon on John’s arm. Curiously, Julian didn’t appear very happy about it either. So why wasn’t he doing something about it? Outwardly, he seemed to be resigned and approving of his friend’s attentions toward her, but there was a tell-tale twitch to his jaw and a stormy heat in his dark green eyes that gave away his underlying tension.

  Why is love so complicated?

  Shakespeare wrote comedies about love and its entanglements. In truth, she felt as though they were all characters in one of his plays. Misaligned pairs. She loved Julian, but he loved the wicked countess whose icy stare could freeze entire oceans. Nicola was infatuated with John, but he seemed to be more interested in hunting and fishing than her. Nobody was happy.

  She paused at the doorway of the salon and slipped her hand off John’s arm. “I think I prefer to carry my pencils,” she said, taking a step back so that she was now walking in beside Julian and leaving John to march ahead. She turned to Julian. “I think we ought to walk together to the stream so that we may discuss your portrait.”

  “You’re going to draw him?” John turned to her, a broad smile on his face. Obviously, he thought the notion quite humorous. “I can’t wait to see the final sketch. Will you capture his arrogance and pomposity?”

  “Is that even a word?” Julian remarked with a growl.

  “Pomposity? It is,” his friend assured him.

  Rose shook her head and chuckled. “I shall capture his every scornful nuance and disdainful glower. Or shall I draw you as a bright red poppy and hang your portrait next to Emily’s? She’ll adore that.”

  She glanced at Julian and was surprised to see him smiling back. Finally! A smile!

  “Don’t you dare!” He laughed heartily. “I shall be teased mercilessly by my family and friends for the rest of my days. But speaking of Emily, where is she? I couldn’t find her or the other c
hildren upstairs.”

  Lady Darnley waved off his concern. “They and the governesses have gone to a birthday party at Squire Melton’s home for his twins, Geoffrey and Caroline. They’re Kendra’s age, but his youngest is Emily’s age and his other children are close in age to the boys, so they’ll all have companions to keep them entertained. We expect them home sometime late this afternoon.”

  Julian remained obviously concerned.

  “They’ve taken two of the carriages and four of my best footmen,” Lord Darnley assured him, noting his nephew’s continued frown. “Is something wrong, Julian? It isn’t a far trip to Birdslip. We can collect them at once; you have only to give the word.”

  “No, Uncle.” He shook his head and smiled, although Rose sensed it was forced. “I wouldn’t intrude on their party. I had hoped to see them upon my arrival, that’s all.”

  After more polite exchanges with Lord and Lady Darnley, the four of them set off for the stream, John and Julian carrying their fishing poles, Rose’s supplies, the picnic basket, and a blanket to spread out under a shade tree for her and Nicola. A light breeze rustled through the trees and the sun shone brightly upon them, gleaming down from a deep blue sky dotted with gentle white clouds.

  Robins and sparrows chirped out their songs, redheaded woodpeckers knocked on gnarled tree trunks with their beaks, and butterflies flitted across the green meadow, occasionally stopping to rest on the colorful wildflowers growing in profusion along the sweep of grass.

  Even the breeze was light and warm, marking a perfect day.

  Rose shook her head and sighed. It was a perfect day if not for the fact that the wrong man was paying avid attention to her. “It’s beautiful here,” she remarked, unable to ignore John, who refused to leave her side and insisted on making polite conversation.

  Nicola also walked beside her, making for an uncomfortable stroll because John only addressed his comments to her and appeared to be purposely ignoring Nicola. She felt trapped between the two of them and desperately wished to be anywhere but in the middle. “Do you look forward to seeing your family again, Miss Farthingale?”

  “I do, but I shall be sad to leave this place. It’s a little slice of heaven here, don’t you think?”

  “All the more delightful because you’re here,” John said, seeming to hang upon her every word.

  What a nuisance!

  She and Nicola exchanged glances. Oh dear. Although Nicola professed not to like the man, she was obviously irked by his behavior. Rose didn’t know what to do. How was she to get him to pay attention to the right girl?

  Perhaps if she pretended to be busy. Rose settled on the blanket now spread out on the grass beside the bank and picked up her sketchbook. “Do go on about your business, gentlemen. I don’t wish to delay your fishing. Lord Randall, would you help Nicola bait her hook? I’d be ever so grateful if you did. She has a dislike of worms.”

  “Of all varieties,” Nicola added, tossing back her vibrant auburn curls. However, she allowed John to lead her away.

  Rose waited for the pair to move out of earshot and then turned to Julian, who was still at her side, looking like a veritable Greek god with the sun beaming down on him and illuminating his dark gold hair. “Try to forget that I’m watching you.” She tried to sound indifferent, but her words came out soft and slightly breathless because he always did have the ability to steal her breath away. Had he noticed? “I’d like to capture you in your natural state. No forced poses or stiff expressions.”

  He immediately struck a stiff pose, but his chuckle gave him away. “Shouldn’t my portrait be a formal affair? I ought to look aristocratic. How’s this?”

  “With your nose stuck in the air?” Rose teased. “Nostrils regally flaring? Rest assured, you’ll be depicted in all your noble arrogance, but you do have one or two commendable aspects that I would like to capture as well.”

  “Such as?” John asked, his ears perking at what should have been a private exchange.

  She stifled a groan, knowing she had to dissuade this man once and for all. “I’m better at expressing myself in drawings than in words, but Julian has a certain elegance and valor about him that inspires confidence in those who meet him. He’s quite magnificent, really. In every respect. Don’t you think?”

  Julian regarded her in obvious surprise.

  “Well, you are. I hope I can capture those qualities on canvas. Your mouth and eyes are the hardest to draw accurately because they’re so expressive. Same for most people. A line drawn with just the wrong slant will completely change the character of the man I hope to convey in your portrait.”

  He arched an eyebrow, still remaining silent.

  “You see, it’s this very expression that defines you. In the curve of your lips and the arch of your eyebrow. The crinkle in the corner of your eyes as you’re about to laugh.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Now I’ll be acutely aware of all my movements while under your trained eye.”

  “Perhaps for the next few minutes, but I’ll fade into the background and you’ll soon forget about me and my sketchbook.”

  Julian’s gaze turned tender and indulgent. “I’ll forget your sketchbook,” he said in a husky whisper, leaning close to pick up one of the fishing poles resting beside her, “but never you.”

  A ripple of excitement coursed through her body, but she quickly tamped it down and composed herself. Julian, as far as she knew, had not broken off his courtship of Countess Deschanel. Until he did, every compliment he paid her was meaningless. He could not have his countess and her as well. He would have to choose between them, but Rose knew that he still meant to choose the countess even if he did not like the woman.

  Or was her intuition wrong about that?

  She sighed and turned away from him, pretending to concentrate on her tin of pencils as though she had not yet decided which one to use for the preliminary sketches. She knew very well which to use. The slate gray graphite was just the right color to convey his hard-edged strength as well as the loving warmth he held for his family, even if said family had turned lunatic and abducted him.

  She had gone mad right along with them. Goodness, she’d encouraged them and led the way.

  “Rolf, I’m going to walk by the stream,” Nicola said, setting down her fishing pole and sounding quite forlorn when John left her side to once more return to the blanket and intrude on the conversation she and Julian were having. Nicola tried her best to hide her disappointment with a pert smile.

  Rose knew Nicola very well, and she was many things but never pert. Enthusiastic, headstrong, and passionate perhaps. But pert? No, she wasn’t the sort to accept failure and cheerfully press onward, chin up and optimistic that tomorrow would bring a better day. Poor thing! She was falling in love with a man she’d always thought of as a eunuch and not liking that loss of control over her heart one bit.

  As her friend slowly ambled away, so did the men, but they walked in the opposite direction and began to fish along the bank of the stream. Rose fixed her attention on Julian and began to study him. He seemed at ease, his stance casual and shoulders relaxed; however, Rose couldn’t help but notice that Julian’s gaze was fixed on the trees and overgrown foliage across the stream and not on the water itself.

  She glanced at John and noticed that he was doing the same.

  She’d spent many mornings fishing with her family when at home in Coniston, and while her gaze was never constantly on the lazily rolling currents while she dipped her bait in and out of the water to lure the fish, it did rest there often enough. These men weren’t looking at the water at all. That struck her as odd.

  Had they noticed something in the woods that merited their attention?

  There were deer and game fowl aplenty in the Darnley park grounds, but nothing more sinister. No, whatever they’d noticed hiding among the trees and underbrush was not a woodlands creature. She glanced at Nicola with concern, for she had strolled well away from them all. Suddenly, the advice Lily had spou
ted when speaking of separating Julian from the herd to make him more vulnerable was raising alarm bells.

  Nicola stood a good distance away and not aware of whatever danger lurked on the opposite side of the stream, assuming there was any danger at all.

  Acting on impulse, Rose dropped her sketches and pencil and scrambled to her feet. “Nicola, I need your help in setting out the picnic lunch!”

  Her friend turned upon hearing her shout and started toward her with a shake of her head. “Are you hungry already? It’s early yet.”

  “I’m famished,” Rose lied, waving her forward and unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen to Nicola if she didn’t return to her side immediately. It was the oddest sensation, completely illogical, but she was desperate to have her friend back on the blanket as though the square patch of cloth spread out under the shade tree was a magical safe harbor for both of them.

  She held her breath, only releasing it when Nicola reached the blanket and knelt beside the picnic basket. “What’s the matter, Rolf? You look ashen, as though you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Rose laughed shakily and sank down beside her. “You’ll think me mad, but I had a sudden, impending sense of doom. I didn’t like that you’d strolled so far away from us. You’re not a child, but a sudden dread washed over me, and I needed to bring you back to me urgently. Silly, of course.”

  “Not at all.” Nicola threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely. “I understand perfectly. We’re friends forever and you just realized that we must remain friends when we return to London. Your heart was speaking to you and telling you that you must forgive me.”

  Rose laughed. “Perhaps.”

  Nicola released her and eased back. “There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it. You and I were physically standing apart, but your metaphorical fear was that we would remain apart as friends. Do you see?”

  “Odd as it seems, I do,” Rose admitted, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Very well, we are friends once more. You’re forgiven, but no more dragging me into your schemes. In fact, no more scheming at all. Promise me.”