Snowbound With the Notorious Rake

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Ah, yes, of course.’ He caught her outstretched hand. ‘Thank you. And will you give me permission to call—?’

  ‘No!’ She stepped away from him, pulling her fingers free. ‘No. We agreed.’

  ‘We agreed nothing. Ten months ago I let you ride out of my life—’

  ‘I told you then it was better if we did not meet again. Nothing has changed.’

  ‘You do not know that.’

  Rose desperately wanted to believe him, just as she had wanted to believe Harry every time he promised he would mend his ways. She took refuge in her bitterness.

  ‘A rake reformed?’ Her lip curled. ‘An impossibility.’ She shivered. ‘I must go back.’

  She pulled her cloak about her and began to retrace her steps.

  ‘So you will not allow me to call upon you?’

  Rose stopped.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you will be at the Assembly?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘That is not until the end of the month. I cannot think you will want to stay at Knightscote for so long.’

  ‘I shall be there.’

  ‘I cannot prevent you from attending a public assembly, Sir Lawrence, although I think you will find it dull work.’

  She saw the flash of his white teeth in the moonlight.

  ‘We shall see!’

  He strode away, whistling, and Rose hurried back to Bluebell Cottage. How dare he come back into her life? What was he doing in Mersecombe, if he had not come to find her? She had told him they should not meet again and she would hold to that. After all, it was not just her happiness that was at stake if she allowed herself to become entangled with a rake, but that of her son.

  Rose returned to the house to find her mother and Magnus waiting for her in the sitting room. Mrs Molland looked up, relieved, as she walked in.

  ‘My dear, we were about to send out a search party!’

  ‘I beg your pardon. Sir Lawrence was unsure of the way, so I stepped outside to—er—point him in the right direction.’

  Magnus frowned.

  ‘That was imprudent, Rose. I would not advise you to step out into the dark with any man, but when it is someone of Sir Lawrence’s reputation…’

  Mrs Molland nodded.

  ‘Mr Emsleigh has the right of it, my love. Sir Lawrence and his circle are constantly mentioned in the London news sheets. You may recall even your aunt has mentioned him in her letters. Rake Daunton! Why, his name is for ever being linked with some society hostess or another. They say he is never seen twice with the same woman on his arm.’

  ‘There has been very little about him this year, Mama.’ And she had searched the newspapers more carefully than usual, looking for his name. Rose told herself she was not defending Sir Lawrence, merely trying to be fair and just.

  ‘Perhaps we missed it.’ Mrs Molland laughed. ‘Good heavens, Rose, Mr Emsleigh will think the society gossip is the only page we read!’ She added soberly, ‘For all that, I was most grateful to Sir Lawrence for seeing Sam home. That was very thoughtful. And I was most impressed that he should then sit and converse with Sam and me in a very civilised manner. He is most agreeable.’

  ‘I would expect nothing less of the man,’ put in Magnus, giving an indulgent little laugh. ‘I noticed at the Pullens’ ball that he is like a magnet to you ladies. Gambling and flirting is how he spends most of his time in town.’

  ‘I wish he had stayed there,’ muttered Rose.

  Magnus smiled at her.

  ‘I know. It is a pity that you should meet him, but you need not worry. It is most likely he will return to Knightscote in the morning and we shall hear no more of him. But if he should come to the Assembly, I shall make very sure he understands that we are to be married next Lady Day, and if he attempts to go beyond the line of what is pleasing, he will have to answer to me.’

  Never had Rose known the weeks to drag by so slowly. Her work at the village school occupied her for four mornings of the week, but she spent the rest of the time thinking of Sir Lawrence and wondering if he was still at Knightscote. She had forbidden him to call upon her, but that did not stop the flutter of hope every time there was a knock at the door.

  The day of the Mersecombe Assembly dawned cold and wet. Heavy rain fell all morning; although the weather became drier as the day went on the thick cloud shrouding the hills remained, bringing an early dusk. Despite the drear weather Rose experienced a little thrill of anticipation as she walked with her mother the short distance from Bluebell Cottage to the Ship Inn. She told herself it was merely the thought of dancing that excited her; she had no expectations that Sir Lawrence would attend a provincial ball. After all, she could not even be sure that he was at Knightscote—he had certainly made no attempt to see her again.

  That was as it should be, she told herself as she followed Mrs Molland into the Ship, but she could not prevent the rough edge of disappointment chafing her spirits when she could not see his tall figure amongst the crowd in the Long Room. Magnus and his sister were already present and came up immediately.

  ‘It is as I feared,’ declared Magnus, kissing and retaining Rose’s hand. ‘A sad crush. All the village must be here, including those who can ill afford it!’

  ‘Fie, sir, they are a very good sort of people, and why should they not enjoy themselves?’ Mrs Molland responded, her eyes bright as she surveyed the company. ‘I am sure we shall enjoy some lively dancing this evening. Miss Emsleigh—what a delightful gown.’

  Althea spread her flounced skirts. ‘This colour is called blushing rose. It is all the rage in London.’

  ‘You are quite the most fashionable lady here this evening,’ replied Rose diplomatically. Privately she thought the pink a little bright, for it clashed horribly with Althea’s yellow hair and plump red cheeks. In her opinion the gown would also be better for a little less ribbon and lace, but Althea seemed delighted with it.

  ‘You are very kind to say so,’ she replied, simpering. ‘Especially when it is you, Mrs Westerhill, who is always being held up to me as a model of elegance. Always so…neat.’

  She means plain and drab, thought Rose, but she was not offended. Her midnight-blue silk was not new and had only a single row of silver lace around the hem, but it suited her and she had always liked its simplicity. She glanced down at her corsage: three large white camellias pinned to her shoulder. Magnus had delivered it to the cottage that morning and impressed upon her that he had ordered the flowers to be brought down from Bristol at great expense. Since he had gone to so much trouble Rose was obliged to wear it, although she felt it was a trifle ostentatious, more a badge of ownership than regard. She chided herself for her ungratefulness, but the impression remained.

  ‘Of course,’ Althea continued, ‘as a widow, no one would expect you to wear a new gown on every occasion.’

  Mrs Molland was quick to jump to her daughter’s defence.

  ‘When one has an excellent figure, like Rose, no one remembers the gown, only how lovely she looks.’

  Althea gave a tinkling laugh. She smoothed her gloved hands over her skirts.

  ‘I am sure you must think me very extravagant to buy another new gown. I know Magnus is always complaining that I cost him a fortune.’ She giggled. ‘My poor brother cannot wait to have me married and off his hands.’

  ‘I do not deny it,’ Magnus replied. ‘But these things cannot be hurried and he must be a man of excellent birth and good fortune. I am seriously considering taking Althea to London next year.’ He took a step closer to Rose. ‘When I have a wife to escort her.’

  ‘Oh, London,’ sighed Althea, glassy-eyed. ‘How I long to be away from the country! Just think of it, parties and balls every night. And we would be able to meet some real gentlemen—like the one standing in the doorway!’

  The change in her tone coincided with a sudden lull in conversation. Nearly everyone in the room was looking towards the entrance and Rose suspected hers was not the only heart that leapt at the sight of Sir L
awrence Daunton as he walked in. His hair was brushed back from his brow and gleamed like a raven’s wing in the candlelight. His black coat fitted so perfectly it might have been moulded to his form, and the pale waistcoat and breeches only added to the sophisticated elegance of the man. She heard Magnus harrumph and mutter, ‘Bond Street Beau,’ but there was nothing ostentatious about Lawrence’s dress. It was simplicity itself and in Rose’s opinion he looked magnificent.

  ‘Is he not the most handsome man you have ever seen?’ Althea gave an ecstatic sigh. ‘We danced together at the Pullens’ ball last month. So very much a gentleman—I told him we attend the Mersecombe Assembly, but I never thought he would remember! Magnus, we must go and greet him.’

  Magnus nodded. ‘If you wish. Rose?’

  She stepped away, raising her hand.

  ‘Please, take your sister. Mama and I will go and sit down.’ She saw the concern in her mother’s eyes and forced a tiny smile. ‘It is the heat. It is a little oppressive and I need to save my energy for the dancing…’

  Mrs Molland led her to the benches at the side of the room. Rose gave a sigh of relief, knowing that they were temporarily shielded from Sir Lawrence’s gaze. Magnus returned shortly after to claim her hand for the first dance and when he led her out she noticed that Lawrence was standing a little way down the line, partnering Althea. She was a little surprised to find Magnus smiling happily upon the couple.

  ‘You do not object to Sir Lawrence dancing with your sister?’

  Magnus spread his hands.

  ‘Whatever Sir Lawrence’s reputation, he is unlikely to act with impropriety towards my sister. Or, for that matter, towards my fiancée.’ He leaned closer and smiled complacently. ‘You have been a widow too long, my dear. You have forgotten what it is to have a man’s protection.’

  Her response was little more than a murmur, lost as the music began. The dancing was lively, but Rose’s enjoyment was tempered by the knowledge that the movement of the dance would soon bring her face to face with Lawrence, a moment she longed for and dreaded in equal measure. Magnus was left behind; she made her way through the line, partner by partner, ever closer to Lawrence. Her mouth dried when he held his hand out to her, a challenge in his eyes. But there was understanding, too. He knew how hard it was for her to smile politely and act as if they were mere acquaintances.

  The brief, heady moment as he took her hands and led her through the line of dancers was everything Rose had anticipated. Despite her best efforts to remain impartial her heart was singing. She kept her eyes fixed upon the top button of his waistcoat, frowning a little as she tried to concentrate on the steps.

  ‘Why, Rose, are you afraid of me?’

  Her eyes flew to his face.

  ‘No.’ Her voice was little more than a croak and she was relieved that at that moment he had to release her and move on to the next partner. She whispered, to his departing back, ‘I am afraid of me.’

  She lost sight of Lawrence as she was swept up by her next partner and carried away, her smile bright, feet tripping lightly through the familiar steps. The dance continued until she was back with Magnus again. The world was righting itself, but her heart was still pounding far too heavily against her ribs. She scolded herself for allowing her peace to be overset so easily.

  It would be best, she thought, if I did not allow him near me again.

  She danced a few more times with older, safely married gentlemen who wanted nothing more than to enjoy a lively dance with a pretty woman, but at the end of each set she kept her attention firmly fixed upon her partner until she was engaged with the next, or she had been returned safely to her mother’s side.

  She was congratulating herself upon her tactics as she stood by the refreshment table, flanked by Magnus and her mother, when she heard Miss Emsleigh’s grating laugh behind her.

  ‘Here they are, sir. I told you we would find them!’ Rose looked round to see Althea approaching on Lawrence’s arm. He smiled across at her, his blue eyes glinting wickedly.

  ‘At last I have caught up with you, Mrs Westerhill. Would you honour me with this next dance?’

  Alarm bells began to clamour in her head.

  ‘Thank you, sir, but I have danced enough tonight.’ She tucked her hand into Magnus’s arm, indicating she was happy to remain with him.

  Magnus beamed, but said magnanimously, ‘I assure you I have no objection if you wish to dance one more measure.’

  ‘Sadly, I do not.’ Rose’s smile took in them all. She said firmly, ‘I am sure you will find other, more willing partners, Sir Lawrence.’

  The sudden spark of anger in his eyes shook Rose. A tremor of unease ran through her, but she refused to succumb to it and held her smile. He must learn that she was not his for the asking. Lawrence gave a stiff little bow.

  ‘As you wish, madam.’

  Althea gave a loud sigh and watched him walk away.

  ‘What a shame. If I had known you meant to refuse, I would not have told him that I was going to dance the next with Magnus.’

  ‘What?’ Magnus raised his quizzing glass. ‘Oh, Lord, I had forgotten. Come along then, my dear, we had best take our places.’ He gave his arm to Althea and led her away.

  Rose heard a slight huff from Mrs Molland.

  ‘What is it, Mama? Why do you look at me that way? I was not uncivil.’

  ‘No-o, but I think you might have accepted Sir Lawrence. He is, after all, a visitor to Mersecombe.’

  ‘But he has a fearsome reputation, Mama. You know what Aunt Jane says of him.’

  Mrs Molland frowned.

  ‘Your aunt enjoys gossip, my love. Entertaining as it is to read, it is often grossly exaggerated. We should take as we find. And Sir Lawrence was very kind to little Sam.’

  Rose looked away, acknowledging her mother’s gentle rebuke with a slight flutter of her hand.

  ‘I…I did not want to encourage him, Mama.’

  ‘One dance in a public assembly! What harm could that do?’ Mrs Molland shook her head.

  Rose did not reply. Everyone in the room was aware of the identity of the elegantly dressed gentleman and Rose knew that there were those present who loved gossip just as much as her Aunt Jane. If they had the slightest reason to connect her name with Sir Lawrence, then her reputation would be in jeopardy. She was the widow of one womaniser and any goodwill would quickly evaporate if she was seen to encourage the advances of another, far more notorious rake!

  From then on the evening descended into a game of cat and mouse. Rose studiously avoided Sir Lawrence. When he drew near to the refreshment table she made sure she was at the far end of the room; later, when she was sitting with her mother and she saw him approaching, Rose quickly excused herself and slipped away into the crowd. Her behaviour was making him angry; he might continue to smile as he made his bow to this person or that, but the set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes told Rose that his temper was on a tight rein. It made her even more determined not to go near him again that evening.

  The Assembly drew to a close. The musicians packed away their instruments and the crowd began to disperse. Rose collected her wrap and returned to the ballroom. There was no sign of Sir Lawrence.

  ‘Mr Emsleigh has offered to take us up in his carriage, is that not kind of him?’ Mrs Molland gave Rose a gentle nudge.

  ‘Mmm? Oh, yes—yes indeed. Thank you, Magnus.’

  He looked down at Rose, who had her sturdy leather half-boots in her hand. ‘My dear, there is no need to put those on if I am taking you in the carriage.’

  Rose hesitated. Her mother and Althea were already waiting by the door. She waved at them.

  ‘It will not take me a moment. You may all go on; I shall join you as soon as I am done.’

  She sat down and tugged off her dancing slippers. Really, Magnus was so irritating. All very well for him to declare that she only had to step into the carriage, but she knew full well that the stairs brought them down to the side door of the inn and the coach w
ould only be able to pull into the yard or to wait in the street. Either way they would have to walk on the dirty cobbles and she had no intention of risking her last pair of good dancing slippers. Angrily she took her time over lacing her boots. They could easily have walked. It was only a step to Bluebell Cottage, but if Magnus was determined to coddle her then he must wait.

  The rooms were almost empty when at last Rose made her way to the door. The servants were already blowing out the candles, filling the air with thick, pungent smoke that swirled like grey mist in the deepening shadows. Quickly she hurried down the wide staircase. Noise from the inn filtered up to her, but the stairs had been designed to carry those attending balls and routs directly to and from the Long Room, keeping them separate from customers drinking in the taproom.

  She reached the door and stepped out. To her right the Emsleighs’ carriage was waiting in the yard, but even as she looked that way a hand shot out and gripped her arm, jerking her roughly into the shadows. She found herself pinned against a hard, unyielding chest, her cheek rubbing against the fine wool of an evening coat. Rose raised her head to protest, but immediately a dark head swept down and her lips were captured in a savage, familiar kiss.

  Rose went weak with relief as she recognised her attacker. How could she not know the feel of those strong arms around her, the arresting mouth that worked on hers in such a demanding way? She was in Lawrence’s arms, where she had so often dreamed to be. For a few moments she clung to him, her body compliant, ready to surrender, then she recovered her senses and pushed against him. She was powerless to free herself, his arms were like iron bands holding her fast, but he released her mouth, moving his lips to her ear.

  ‘I do believe you have been avoiding me, Rose.’

  His voice was low and warm. Desire stirred. She closed her eyes, steeling herself to reply.

  ‘Have you not been avoiding me these past weeks?’

  ‘Ah. So you noticed that.’ There was a purr of satisfaction in his voice. ‘I had not meant to come here tonight, but the temptation to see you again was too strong. Why would you not dance with me?’