“I mean to land her an earl, perhaps a duke. Sorry young Bainbridges, she’ll go higher than both of you.”
Lord Sandhurst climbed back into the carriage and knocked on the side. The vehicle started to move and the two Bainbridge brothers grimaced.
“What’s he thinking, he’ll put her up for sale?” Stanley asked, with disgust.
“He might plan it, but he won’t succeed, for she’s a rebel and she’ll run to Gretna Green with me just to spite him,” Simon stated.
“Good idea, I’ll try it,” Stanley agreed and remounted.
Both young men quickly caught up with the coach and as the spectacle of the viscount’s arrival performed its grand circle in the drive, servants at the windows stared and then rushed away. Two private footmen dismounted and a valet climbed down. Trunks were shifted off and carried to the terrace. His lordship gazed up at his old manor house and grinned.
His wife watched from her window, with a much different expression on her face.
Rose left Snowflake to the stable boy and circled round to the back servant’s entrance. Her father’s appearance causing her chest to squeeze with surprise. He was so tall, so handsome. She wondered for the first time, at all she had missed without having a strong gentleman in her life.
……….
News of the fancy coach arriving outside the gates caused servants to scatter in every direction. Lady Lucy ran up the main staircase, as if her hem was blazing with fire.
“Draw me a bath,” she shouted. “That damn scoundrel has returned.”
Most of the staff had never seen the viscount. They experienced a conflicting mixture of anxious delight to finally set eyes on this notorious villain. The cook sent runners to the village to purchase more meats. The butler descended the cellar to bring up the best brandies. Maids shook off dust covers in the guest rooms and made up the beds with freshly laundered sheets.
An argument between the viscountess and Madame Sinclair rang in the hallway upstairs.
“Your ladyship, you can’t mean to put the viscount in the attic, he will sack me,” Madame Sinclair cried.
“Do as I say, for he won’t sleep on the same floor as me.”
Chaos and confusion ruled, as Sandhurst Manor prepared for the return of its prodigal lord.
……….
Lord Sandhurst laughed when the housekeeper dared suggest he stay in the attic and walked to the lord’s quarters, as if he’d stayed there only yesterday. On entering, he heard splashing from the adjacent room. He tiptoed through the dressing rooms and peeked into the doorway of his wife’s bedchamber. She was freshly out of her bath, wrapped in a white towel, her glorious blonde hair loose behind her. What was she now? Thirty eight, still a stunning woman. He wondered at his foolish pride and felt a rare twinge of regret.
Just then she turned, as if sensing him and her eyes widened as Lady Lucy saw her husband for the first time in twenty years, watching her like a leering stable hand from behind a paddock door.
“Back already?” She quipped. “I hardly knew you were gone.”
“Lucy, you look well.”
“As if you’d care if I died in childbirth or anytime afterwards. Sorry to disappoint you, still alive.”
He had the grace to cringe and stepped closer.
“I’m not disappointed. I believed when I left, you were glad to see me go.”
“Did you? You thought a young lady of nineteen would enjoy being abandoned out here at the edge of nowhere, alone for all of her life?” Her voice started with anger, but weakened into a sob.
“Lucy, I’m sorry now I did it. You knew my mood on marrying you. I don’t take well to being forced.”
“As if I forced you? I had many fine suitors, if you’d just told me you did not want the match, I would have refused. Oh, this is useless old news. Get out of my room,” Lucy turned and walked to her dressing table, pulling her towel tightly against her breasts.
“I saw Rose. She mentioned that you didn’t like her because she looks like me. Is that true?” The viscount asked.
“Partly, unfairly I know, but every look and expression of hers only gives me pain.”
“Lucy?” Lord Sandhurst asked, “Could you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know how.”
He was surprised her answer upset him. He was used to being admired. So far, both the mother and daughter had given him a good jab. He deserved them. At forty, his view of the world and his past behavior seemed extremely childish even to him.
“Will you let me try?” he asked, thrusting charm into his voice.
“Since when have you asked for my opinion? Perhaps I should take the carriage to London for twenty years. Have all manner of affairs and male mistresses, go to parties and balls, enjoy my life while you sit here and watch the sea. I should have left sooner, but someone had to raise Rose. Now she’s grown, I want you to know I’m leaving. I have a part of my life left to live.”
“Is there another man?” he asked, never really considering it before, wallowing deep in his own selfishness.
“You think I’ve lived here like a nun? We’ve both had our fun Gerald, I was once thought to be a beauty. I’ve had my chance at several gentlemen and I’m sure one or two will still take me. If you’re staying, I’ll leave tomorrow.”
Lord Sandhurst was never so surprised in his life. His handsome perfection had won him every battle, given him every desire, life had been easy except for Lucy.
“I don’t want you to go, I just arrived,” he exclaimed, not sure why he was arguing.
She laughed softly and cruelly.
“Since when have you cared a moment about me? I see it, you know. The truth. Until you came here, you never gave us a consideration. You only want something when it’s no longer yours Gerald. Why are you here now? Let me guess. It’s not for me at all. It’s Rose turning nineteen. You want to use her to feather your own nest, bring in a rich son-in-law. Bull’s eye,” Lady Lucy hissed, seeing the giveaway expression on his face. “Get out you damn scoundrel before I break a lamp over your head.”
Lord Sandhurst backed away, noticing how her temper lit her green eyes and he remembered those lips and that first month together and wondered at his foolishness.
……….
Rose dressed for dinner, as an actress preparing for the London stage. She would be a perfect lady, graceful, demure, and beautiful. She would use her looks to shield her from this stranger and his fancy outriders.
“Who needs him now?” Rose asked Janet. “I’m all grown up and mother hates him. What do you think he means to do? Sell the manor, take away some of our possessions, strand us without an income?”
“No, none of those. He’s a fine noble lord with a name to protect. Abandoning his family in the country is one thing, leaving them destitute is another,” Janet replied, twisting Rose’s hair high and fashioning the heavy layers with pearl pins.
“No? Well then, he is here for some other nefarious reason,” Rose affirmed. “Mother knows him for a rotter and so do I. I shall go down and find out.”
Rose stood on shaky legs. No man had more power over a lady than her father and if he married her off, or shipped her to France, she had no voice to say no. Her only two ideas for escape was the gypsy camp, which even she realized was unrealistic, and marriage. For then her husband had all the rights, the father no more. Flying from one rotter to another was not a good choice. Rose felt like time was chasing her to the edge of a deep running steam and she was crossing over a bridge made of rotten boards. One sagging timber as dangerous as the next, but necessary, or she would fall to her doom.
Dressed in green silk, with rose silk flowers in her hair and one at her throat, her neckline low and her figure voluptuous, at least on the top, Rose descended the stairs to raised voices and male shouts. Her young skin, a soft peach and her generous mouth, made her stop the conversation dead, as if a Greek goddess had directed a bolt of lightning to silence the two younger gentlemen.
“Oh, pray cont
inue, don’t let me interrupt your argument,” Rose smiled. She’d heard her name several times passing their lips and felt like a prized apple stallions were fighting over.
Simon and Stanley looked a little shamefaced, but as they turned and gave Rose all their attention, she almost laughed at their expressions. If they had just crossed the blistering sands of Egypt and spotted her holding a vase full of water, they could not have looked more longingly at her.
“I have no idea who either of you are, perhaps you might introduce yourselves,” Rose smiled and stood by the window.
“I am Simon Bainbridge, I work with your father.”
“I am his older brother Stanley Bainbridge, and I inherited a manor and lands outside of London.”
“H’m. How interesting,” Rose pronounced, turning to look out the window and sigh. She watched them from the corner of her eye. They were giving dark looks to each other and Rose was glad she did not have a sibling.
Suddenly her father came into the room and quickly summed up the situation. Rose too beautiful to fully look upon, and the two Bainbridge brothers ready to kill each other over her already. Suddenly the viscount, his wife’s accusing words still hanging in the air, paused and questioned his motives and his plans. Would he force Rose to marry unhappily, after his own life was ruined by a greedy father? He had some serious thinking to do; not one of his stronger suits. Act unselfishly for love of another? A quaint thought.
“How festive a family reunion can be,” Rose smirked. “Did you see mother?”
“Yes, we spoke,” the viscount replied, having trouble taking his eyes off his daughter. How had his madcap month of lust created such a creature?
“That must have been enchanting,” Rose replied. “Father, I assume you came here for a reason. To sell the manor out from under us? To ship me off to a convent in France? Why don’t you just tell me, I’m all nervous energy?”
“Gads, what you think of me,” her father lamented.
“I have an idea much preferable to a convent,” Simon offered, stepping around his brother and approaching the viscount.
“I’ll bet you do Simon,” his lordship replied with a grin.
“If you think to force me into marriage with some aged earl or a duke in his dotage, tell me now, I’ll get a rope from the barn and tie it to a rafter,” Rose stated as casually as if she’d just asked for more tea.
Verbalized with such a sweet voice and earnest expression, it took the three gentlemen a few minutes to understand her sarcasm.
“You are an outright, brave speaking lady,” her father declared, not sure if he was impressed, or dismayed.
“I never speak to gentlemen, unless you count Donald, I have never been to town, or a ball, or in society. Not one of my relatives has offered to introduce me. I suppose I am not the current fashion, or a follower of rules,” Rose spoke coyly, trying to read her father’s expressions.
“You’re superior to anything in town and I would love to introduce you to society and all its entertainments,” Stanley exclaimed, coming up and taking her hands.
Rose pulled them back and stepped around him.
“I never believe a gentleman’s word, no matter how prettily spoken,” Rose said.
“Who’s Donald?” Simon asked.
“Oh, a friend of mine. We meet secretly every night, after it grows dark and we play a dangerous game,” Rose hinted with soft suggestion.
Now all three males looked bothered.
“I’ll have his full name Rose,” her father demanded.
“I don’t know his last name,” Rose replied, sitting at the pianoforte and running her fingers lightly over the keys.
“What?” the brother’s almost shouted.
“I just know him as Donald,” Rose answered.
Just then, Lady Lucy Sandhurst joined them, wearing dark brown satin and wearing her pearls. She really looked lovely. The two younger men seemed surprised to get their first look at Lord Sandhurst’s wife; they glanced at the lord as if he were mad. He’d stranded her? Their shocked faces revealing much.
“She’s talking about the stable man Donald and he’s sixty at least. They play chess every evening,” her mother informed them and they all sighed with relief.
“Thank you mother. I didn’t realize anyone would care for the details, as no one ever did before.”
Her mother and father both winced and after all the introductions were made, everyone took a brandy and sat.
“I was trying to get father to tell me the reason for his visit. Do you know it mother?” Rose asked.
“He’ll marry you off to the highest bidder, someone who can do a good turn for him I suppose. He won’t care two hoots for your feelings, as he hasn’t any himself.”
Rose had kidded about such an idea, but to hear her mother say it so definitely made her blood run cold. Her cheeks drained of color and her eyes grew moist. She raised her chin and turned to the viscount. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and she knew it was true. She felt neither warmth nor caring from her father, the scoundrel. He was a beautiful snowbank, wonderful to look upon, cold to be near and Rose shivered.
“I wish you’d never remembered my existence,” Rose whispered and walked out of the room.
The two brothers wanted to run after her, but knew now was not the time for courting a broken hearted lady.
“Why did you say that, just to hurt her? Is that how you raise Rose, by stabbing her and watching her bleed?” The viscount asked his wife.
“Come now, you admitted as much. Your men here know it too, look at them. We all understand you,” Lady Lucy replied, showing no remorse or shame.
She walked to the door, all a rustle of satin and a sway to her hips.
“Dinner’s at eight, enjoy yourselves, I’m off to the neighbors.”
With that she went into the entry and out the front door, before anyone could react.
“A promising start,” smirked Stanley.
“Shut it,” growled Simon and Lord Sandhurst together.
……….
CHAPTER THREE
First Kiss
Lord Sandhurst Manor
Residence of Viscount Sandhurst
Suffolk, England
Rose wasted no time packing all of her new gowns. She took the new riding habits, two simple day dresses and a few accessories. She swore Janet to secrecy and brushing her hair loose, she had it braided down her back with a ribbon.
“If it wasn’t for this bosom, I could dress like a lad,” Rose muttered.
Janet laughed.
“Don’t be ridiculous. No boy ever looked like you. Where do you think you’re going anyhow?” Janet asked, worry bringing her close to tears.
“I’m not sure, perhaps London. Too bad Snowflake is white, she’ll give me away at night, plus I can’t take her, someone would steal her from me.”
“I think you should worry more about yourself and less about your horse. Can’t you talk to your mother?”
“No, she went to the Willows and her dear friend Ben. She doesn’t care if I’m married off to an eighty year old fool, only that I’m gone.”
Janet meant to argue, but knew it was true, so she said nothing.
“Explain how you feel to your father then.”
“He doesn’t care a fig what I want, he doesn’t even know me. I’m a commodity to him, a bag of flour for sale.”
“What about the young lords? Marry one of them. It’s better than an old man and they are both very handsome,” Janet offered.
“Are they, I hadn’t noticed.”
“You can’t go alone. Please Rose, think. If you run away with one of those young men downstairs, they would marry you and it would be better than anything your father plans.”
“I don’t want to be married and how do you know they would marry me? They might possibly ruin me and leave me in a ditch. No, I think I’m safer unaided then accompanied by a strange man.”
Janet ran her hands down her skirt and offered, “I’ll go order a dark ho
rse saddled.”
Only Janet had no intention of doing any such thing. She went down the back stairs and watched through the doorway as the three gentlemen sat and drank. She liked the looks of both young gentlemen. They were dark, strong, and handsome, but the taller one named Simon seemed most sincere. She decided and motioned with her hand until he looked up and saw her. Janet raised her finger to her lips, then signaled for Simon to follow her.
Simon noticed the maid waving at him and wondered if she judged him the kind of man who would have a fling with a servant under Lord Sandhurst’s nose. Only there was something different about her look, not enticing but worried. He stood, made an excuse and left the room.
As Simon rounded the corner, Janet grabbed his large hand and pulled him into the small dark morning room.
“Shhhh,” she ordered.
“What?” He asked.
“Do you like Rose?” Janet asked.
“Like her? I don’t know her.”
“Damn, let me try the other one then,” Janet said, and as she meant to step around him, Simon took her arm and stilled her.
“No, try me. What’s wrong?”
“Rose is leaving, running away tonight and I can’t let her go alone. She’ll be taken, or killed, she doesn’t know the world like I do. She thinks to ride to London unaccompanied and do what I can’t say.”
All manner of ideas raced in Simon’s brain, none of them good.
“Don’t think to stop her, for she’ll just go tomorrow, or the next. She won’t be married to an old titled peer to please her absent father. To foil him, she’ll marry the stable man if we don’t do something,” Janet huffed, her face red.
“What are you thinking?” Simon asked.
“Why, that you would marry her and keep her safe.”
“Did she ask you to come down here and speak to me?”
“No. And if I don’t get back up there, she’ll be gone before you’re done asking questions. Do you want Rose or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then decide right now.”
Rose Page 2