by Meara Platt
“But I do worry.” He tucked a finger under her quivering chin. “I must go now, but I’ll see you as soon as I can. We’ll work this out together.”
“There’s nothing to work out. It’s done. No, I—”
“Together.” He gave her chin an affectionate tweak. “You’ll see. We make a good team, even though we often work at cross purposes.”
Rose shook her head and laughed softly. “Yes, we must work on that.”
He gave her a smile that simply melted her bones. “We will.”
“I hear clinking crystal,” Uncle Rupert said three days later as they prepared to head off to Lord Carlisle’s ball. “Pour me a tall one, George. What a day I’ve had. I’m off to Coventry first thing in the morning for more negotiations with those damn woolen merchants. Unmitigated thieves is what they are.”
Drink in hand, he crossed the room and took a seat beside his aunt Hortensia, who looked quite regal and daunting in her gray bombazine. “What did you do while at Darnley Cottage, Rose? With all the family and friends paying calls on us, we’ve hardly had time to speak of your visit there. Did you have nice weather?”
A safe topic. “Oh, yes. It was exceedingly pleasant weather. We fished and swam and hiked. I drew portraits of Nicola and her siblings that were quite well received. Lord Darnley would like me to paint a portrait of his nephew, Viscount Chatham, and one of the viscount’s friends would like to bring his aunt, Lady Bainbridge, to tea with us to discuss commissioning a portrait as well.”
Her mother frowned lightly. “My dear, this is your debut season. You mustn’t overextend yourself with obligations. I had hoped that when your kiln was… er, damaged, that you might slow down and simply enjoy the balls and other social entertainments.”
“I’ll manage, Mama. I’m under no obligation to finish these projects by a particular date. In any event, the viscount is a busy man,” she explained, thinking of the spy ring Julian was in the process of destroying. It was a dangerous assignment, and she would not take a calm breath until it was all over and he stood before her, safe and sound. “I doubt he’ll have much time to give me for his portrait over these next few weeks. Perhaps no more than half an hour a day, if that.”
Her mother’s ears perked. “You’d see him every day?”
Rose smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her white satin gown. “I’d have to until I completed the final sketches and that might take a while.”
Hortensia chuckled. “Oh, I think you ought to take as long as you need to get it perfect. Don’t let anyone rush you. No, indeed. Stick close to the handsome viscount.”
Laurel and Daisy giggled. “Aunt Hortensia, would you be as insistent if he were a lowly baronet?” Laurel asked.
She waved her hand with an air of nonchalance. “If Rose loved said baronet? Of course. Love is what matters. When one is fortunate enough to find it, one must not be coy about seizing it.”
Rose cleared her throat. “I do wish everyone would get off the topic of love. I’m not in love with Viscount Chatham.”
Lily nudged her spectacles higher on the bridge of her nose. “You are so obviously enamored with him that even I’ve taken notice.”
Rose groaned, for Lily never noticed anything unless it was written in a book. “Even you, Lily? How did you arrive at your conclusion?”
“Newton’s laws of gravitational attraction apply here. I believe Viscount Chatham’s gravitational pull is very strong and he’s drawn you into his robust orbit. That’s why you fidget and turn circles around him whenever he visits.” She frowned lightly. “But he hasn’t come by at all since your return.”
“Perhaps Rose has done something to knock him out of orbit,” Dillie teased. “What have you done to him, Rose?”
“Girls,” their mother said gently, “Stop teasing your sister. I think he must have used this time to break off his affair with Countess Deschanel. No one’s seen her around town in days. Viscount Chatham is being careful not to involve Rose in the nasty rumors that will circulate once the end of his liaison with the countess is confirmed.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “This sounds quite juicy. Rose involved in a love triangle.”
Their father groaned. “Girls, it is nothing of the sort.”
“Indeed, not,” their mother assured them. “Viscount Chatham was never in love with the countess. He stared at Rose throughout Lady Winthrop’s musicale, and a man doesn’t do such a thing if his heart is pledged to another.”
“Oh, I see. It’s like you and Father.” Lily nudged her spectacles up the bridge of her pert nose once more as she addressed their mother. She had such a little nose and little ears that the frames had trouble clinging. “Father has eyes only for you—it matters not who else is in the room. You’re the one who brightens his heart.”
Their parents chuckled. Rose melted a little at the adorable blush on her mother’s cheeks.
Their father smiled at Lily. “That’s very well said, child. I’m quite proud of you.”
Lily beamed back. “Thank you, Father. I’m glad I settled on that idea, because my first thought was that maybe he just wished to bed Rose.”
The men in the room all seemed to choke on their brandy at the same time.
Their mother shot out of her seat. “Ah, Pruitt! Have the carriages been brought around yet? Time for us to head off for Lord Carlisle’s ball.” Her gaze took in Laurel, Daisy, and the twins. “Girls, do behave while we’re gone.”
“We always do,” Dillie said in earnest. “Well, we always mean to.”
Their father rolled his eyes.
Rose checked her reflection in the mirror by the entry hall as she and the family elders made their way out of the house. Agnes, one of the Farthingale maids, had fashioned Rose’s hair in an intricately braided chignon and helped Rose to don a gown of white silk trimmed with beaded white lace at the sleeves and square collar and a violet ribbon at the waistline that gathered just below her breasts. “Do I look presentable?”
“You always look lovely,” Hortensia said. “Move along or we’ll be late.”
Within the hour, Rose and her parents, along with the usual horde of Farthingale relations who descended upon them during the season, had made their way through the reception line and were milling about the ballroom chatting with acquaintances while waiting for Lord Carlisle to officially open the ball.
Rose craned her neck to search for Nicola, whom she’d arranged to meet at the gala affair to commiserate in mutual misery about the men they loved who did not appear to love them back. She finally noticed her seated beside Lord and Lady Darnley, who happened to be chatting with her neighbor, Lady Eloise Dayne. “I haven’t seen Lady Eloise in an age,” she told her mother. “May I go to her?”
“Of course. John, dear, will you escort her? Hortensia and Julia are calling me over to meet Viscountess Glynnemeade, and I know how avidly you Farthingale men have been coveting her woolens.”
Her father laughed. “Sophie, you have a charming way with words. We’ve been coveting her woolen fabrics for our mill. I doubt anyone has coveted her personal woolens in sixty years.”
“I’ll escort her, Sophie. I’ve been meaning to ask after Lady Eloise’s health anyway,” George said.
She took his offered arm as they made their way to Lady Eloise’s side. Rose kissed her lightly on the cheek and then greeted Nicola as well as Lord and Lady Darnley. “Did you girls enjoy your time in the countryside?” Eloise asked, smiling affectionately. “You both look lovely. I was just telling Nicola how pretty she looked.”
Rose nodded. “We did. It was most interesting.”
Lady Eloise arched an eyebrow. “I’m eager to hear all about your time away. Your sisters and I missed you. Good evening, George. You look quite distinguished, as always.”
He kissed her wrinkled cheek. “How are you feeling, Eloise?”
“In the pink, thanks to you. It’s most convenient to have my new doctor living next door. Ah, here comes Lady Bainbridge and her nephew. I understan
d he joined Nicola’s brother in escorting you home. Why Nicola, I believe he’s noticed you. Is this the young man who made your stay interesting?”
“No, not at all.” Her cheeks turned a bright pink, the tell-tale blush completely giving her away.
Rose felt a small tug at her heart, sorry for her friend. Oh dear. She and Nicola had to work on hiding their feelings. It was one thing for trusted friends and family to know, but for the gentleman in question? That would be disastrous.
No wonder Julian was so reluctant to share any bits of war information with them. One had only to look at their faces to know exactly what they were thinking.
John walked straight toward Nicola, sparing not a glance at anyone else. “Rose, help me,” she said in an urgent whisper. “I’m going to make a complete idiot of myself.”
Rose patted her hand. “You’ll be perfect.”
“Right, a perfect idiot. Facing him was much easier when I thought him a eunuch. Oh, boils and blisters! Have you ever seen a handsomer gentleman?”
Yes, Nicola’s brother.
Where was he?
John wasted no time in introducing Lady Bainbridge and then surprised everyone by inviting Rose to dance. Why her and not poor Nicola, who looked about ready to weep? Was there a reason for the continued ruse?
Rose accepted because she didn’t know how to politely decline the invitation. “A waltz, how delightful,” he said and began twirling with her in his arms. But they had yet to make a full turn about the floor when he suddenly stopped dancing and led her out of the ballroom.
She stopped when she realized what he was doing and frowned at him. “Lord Randall, I cannot possibly go with you. What are you about? I cannot—”
“Someone’s waiting for you in the library,” he said with quiet urgency. “You know who I mean. He didn’t want the two of you to be seen together just yet.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Julian’s here?”
John nodded. “He has a mission for you.”
“For me?” Now she was sounding like a parrot, but she was too excited to contain herself. Julian wanted her help. She wouldn’t disappoint him.
The ballroom was a crush so it was rather easy for them to slip away and stroll down the hall as though they were walking toward the dining salon. John led her past it down the dimly lit hallway to the quiet end and opened the last door on the left. She stepped in and felt a sudden trepidation, for the air in the library felt thick and tomb-like, and she saw no one else inside. Indeed, there was nothing but shelves from floor to ceiling filled with neatly ordered books. Had John lured her away from the crowd on false pretense? Was he the traitor everyone was searching for?
“Your little package is delivered,” John said with a chuckle, seemingly to no one in the room. There was so little light in here, only a small oil lamp standing lit upon Lord Carlisle’s imposing carved mahogany desk. Then Julian stepped out of the shadows. Rose wanted to rush to him and throw her arms around his neck in relief, but he appeared tense and not pleased to see her. She hoped it wasn’t so, that the play of harsh light and elongated shadows upon his features only made it seem that way.
She hesitated, at a loss for words and uncertain what to do. He made no move toward her, only stood there frowning.
John cleared his throat. “Let’s finish with this business so I may return to the far more pleasant chore of dancing with your sister.”
Julian’s frown deepened. “Remember that you’re on duty. You’re to protect Nicola and that’s it.”
“He’s now assigned you to Nicola?” Rose curled her hands into fists, wanting to pound sense into both men. She understood their business was important, but did they have to so casually break hearts along the way? “Is that all she is to you? Because if you dare hurt her—”
John raised his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t think of it. I’d rather face Napoleon’s armies than your wrath,” he teased, then turned serious. “Rose, she’s safe with me.”
But did that mean he cared for her? Or was she safe because he was assigned to guard her and he took his duty seriously? She didn’t want Nicola to be a mere obligation for him.
Why couldn’t men fall in love as easily as women did?
She shook out of the thought and concentrated on what Julian had in his hands. “Is that my sketchbook?”
Julian set it down on Lord Carlisle’s desk and then held out the large chair behind it and motioned for her to take the seat. “No, it’s mine. Rather, it was purchased on behalf of the Crown, but intended for your use. You did a brilliant job of drawing the first villain. You remember those pleasant fellows we encountered while at Darnley Cottage? I hope you can do the same with his accomplice.”
“I almost had him,” John said, drawing up a chair beside her and sinking into it. “He managed to elude me when a fight broke out at the tavern I’d tracked him to along the London road. I thought I’d picked up his trail again, but it grew cold and I fear I’ve wasted days on the hunt. I got a good look at him though.”
Rose’s eyes widened in trepidation. “I’ll do my best, but why here and now? You could have called on me earlier at my home.”
Julian’s shoulder grazed hers as he leaned over her to open the sketchbook, but she had only a moment to enjoy the warmth of his body against hers before he stepped back and withdrew a small tin of pencils from his breast pocket. “We were busy until now.”
Of course, how stupid of her. She was responding to him like a besotted ninny, her heart pounding and skin tingling, while he was saving the civilized world… and he smelled divine while doing it, his enticing mix of musk and maleness now causing every pulse in her body to throb. Who knew there were so many? Eep!
“Valentina narrowly escaped,” he continued, mistaking her silence for concentration on the vital purpose at hand, “but we managed to catch everyone else on our list… all, that is, except for the elusive accomplice and the even more elusive inner circle traitor.” He knelt beside her and she couldn’t help but notice the lines of fatigue etched into his handsome face. “I know you’ll do a wonderful job for us, Rose. If it weren’t for the danger to you, I’d eagerly enlist you as the newest weapon in our arsenal.”
He thought enough of her to want her in his organization? The man certainly knew how to breach the walls of her heart, not that they were ever very high or insurmountable when it came to Julian. No, they simply crumbled whenever he was near, so that he had merely to stroll in and claim her heart. His rugged good looks and the smoldering heat of his stare had nothing to do with it. Well, only partly to do with it. Most important, he valued her for her mind and talent as well.
How could she not love him?
“Shall we begin?” She winced at the sound of her voice, so tight and squeaky.
Julian mistook it as his cue to move away, although she supposed it was for the best. She’d never be able to concentrate while he remained close, his warm breath tickling the curls at the nape of her neck. Oh, she was getting distracted again.
She withdrew one of the pencils from the tin.
John began to describe the man. “Dark hair… prominent brow… a little jowly… yes, that’s it. Heavy eyelids… nose seems to have been broken.”
She made several sketches, trying her best to set the man’s description down on paper. In one, his eyes were a little narrower and nose broader. In another, his chin was slightly more prominent and earlobes a little longer. She drew as fast as she could, for both men seemed to have their eyes on the clock, wanting her to finish before the music stopped to mark the end of the set. John would have to return her to the ballroom and have her back under the watchful eye of Lady Eloise before the gossips took notice of her absence.
“Are any of these drawings accurate?” Julian asked, now beginning to pace.
John nodded. “This one is it. Excellent job, Rose.”
As he pointed to the last one she’d completed, the door latch gave a little click and the door groaned open. Rose held her breath, simply
gaping open-mouthed toward it, for her body was too frozen in surprise to move.
John and Julian responded in quite the opposite manner, silently leaping into action so that John now stood beside the door, ready to disarm the unknown intruder, while Julian positioned himself between her and said intruder, pistol trained at the man’s heart. Or was this person a female? “Dr. Farthingale,” Julian said with obvious relief, lowering his arm and relaxing his stance upon recognizing her uncle.
John stepped out of the shadows and made himself known, giving her usually unflappable uncle a start. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you,” John muttered, closing the door and leaving the four of them to stare at each other, her uncle obviously eager for an explanation.
Rose jumped to her feet. “Uncle George, this isn’t at all what it appears. Although I can’t tell you what I’m doing in here, for it might be construed as treason. Not that I’m doing anything treasonous. Quite the opposite. But I dare say no more. My lips are sealed.”
He rolled his eyes. “I can’t even begin to make sense of what you just said, Rose. What’s going on? Why are you in here with these two gentlemen? And I use the term loosely, for they ought to know better than to allow you to remain with them without a proper chaperone, no matter how honorable their intentions. Had someone other than me walked in and seen you, you’d be ruined.”
She knew he was right, but still couldn’t muster any contrition. She loved that Julian had thought enough of her ability to trust her with this important task. “But no one did.”
He scowled at all of them. “That’s beside the point.”
Julian stepped forward. “I can explain.”
Her uncle folded his arms across his chest and scowled. “You had better. Pray, do a better job of it than my niece just did.”
Julian quickly brought him up to the present without revealing anything about the earlier attempt on her life or their night in the hunting lodge. In truth, he disclosed as little as he could about his royal assignment. Rose was surprised that he’d revealed any of his mission, but she supposed there was no harm in doing so now. The operation was nearing its end and everyone knew her uncle could be trusted. Julian probably saw no harm in providing general bits of information. “That’s why I need more drawings of this man before I leave.”