After much discussion, hints, grins, and nods Lord Sandhurst agreed to keep his daughter’s dowry set at twenty five thousand pounds, provided Rose agreed to give other lords a chance and not settle on young Bainbridge so quickly. Word spread and hunters of noble family and not quite so honorable, paid her court. Rose was never so overwhelmed in her life. At nineteen and without a mother to guide her, she fought her emotions, fears, and loneliness by riding in Hyde Park. Her father had agreed to bring Snowflake to town and Rose mounted on the large white mare was a display her narcissistic father endorsed.
……….
One positive adventure Rose enjoyed in London was meeting Lady Marlene Kensington. She was also nineteen and growing up in town, she knew all the gossip, entanglements, and scandals.
They met at Rose’s first dance. Marlene was the only young lady in the marriage mart that had the courage to stand beside Rose and not fear the comparison. Though not as splendid as Rose, she was a force of nature with her snapping black eyes, strong brows, quick wit, and thick black hair.
The two ladies had such an aura about them that young lords circled, bowed, and stood close, but did not intrude. It was as if it was enough just to stand close to them, watch them, smell them, and not risk dismissal by pressing nearer and speaking.
“Just look at your father Rose,” Marlene exclaimed. “He’s like a ship of the line, drawing attention wherever he goes, people circling around him like gulls.”
“Yes, he does enjoy painting a picture. See how he poses, hand on hip, always at an angle to the room wanting to appear thinner. His strong stride and eagle eyes, searching for a son-in-law, as if the gentleman was for himself and not me.”
“Poor Rose, supremely beautiful, infinitely glorious and saddled with such a man as patriarch. Now observe my father,” Marlene said, motioning to her right. “See how he slumps, drinks, and talks to his cronies about horseracing and cards. Not a thought in his sweet head about a match for me.”
The two young ladies caused such jealous glances, that they shivered and turned away. A row of young ladies from town families were very displeased Lord Sandhurst bothered to visit Suffolk and retrieve his daughter. Better for them, that she was left in the country.
“See Maribel Bidwell staring at you, why she’d set you on fire with the heat in her eyes if she could,” Marlene uttered, squeezing her new friend’s hand. “Don’t let her bother you, she’s full of spite as her crush Lord Wilfred notices nothing but you.”
“She can have him,” Rose sighed.
“Yes, he is a sad, red-headed gangly creature. Lord Fletcher wants you too, he can’t afford you, but he practically pants when he sees you. Did you notice handsome Simon Bainbridge by the pillar? Now he eats you up with his eyes. I’ve never seen a gentleman so taken by a lady.”
“Yes, I see him. Father sees him too. He plans someone grander and richer for me.”
“What do you plan?” Marlene asked.
“I plan to be happy and adore my husband. Two emotions father has never had and does not understand.”
“Oh my, look towards the right balcony. Gads, it is him.”
“Who?” Rose asked, turning and looking at the directed doorway.
“Lord Mark Islay, earl of the realm, rich, handsome, and gone rogue. I could tell you stories of him for days, but isn’t he fine?” Marlene asked, in breathless wonder.
Rose had never seen her friend so strongly affected, and took a longer look at the cause.
He was indeed a gentleman worth a timely stare. Rose fluttered her lashes and tried to coldly study him without appearing to gasp, as all the other young ladies seemed to be doing.
He was tall, with long black hair and stormy blue eyes, heavily lashed in black. His chin was strong, his cheekbones high, his grin crooked, and his body impressive. He was dressed impeccably in a tight blue cutaway coat, snug black breeches, and a silk waistcoat of pearl and grey. There was a lady on his arm. Red hair, flashy golden dress, cut very low, wearing a wide grin proclaiming she had caught the biggest catch in the ocean and was displaying it for others to envy.
“Who is that with him, his wife?” Rose asked her friend.
“Wife? Gads no, he’s not married. That’s the widow Clarkson, known for her generous nature, if you understand my meaning. Her life could also cram a book. No, she fills the coveted role of his mistress and as you can see, proud of it.”
“Yes, she does appear satisfied, she has the look of father about her, feathers ruffled, chest out and I do mean exposed, and a gratified smile almost too informative to share,” Rose replied.
This made Marlene laugh and the two young ladies exchanged snickers and smiles, drawing the attention of their focus to glance their way.
Mark Islay glanced, then stopped and stared, as if spotting a French ship in his harbor. He narrowed his eyes and focused.
She stood on the first step of the ballroom, wearing a peach satin gown. It was modestly cut, but offered a tantalizing view of her plentiful bosom, a willowy tall figure in satin silhouette hinted at the shapeliness of her long legs. Her light blonde hair was piled high, decorated with pearl clips, died feathers, and braids. Her eyes were pewter, so heavily lashed with black she looked almost unworldly. Her complexion soft, smooth and her beautiful features resembled someone he hated more than anyone. Mark looked from the vision to Lord Sandhurst and back. He repeated the motion. He noticed the group of young gentlemen around her and her friend and wished them to Hades. Suddenly widow Clarkson’s arm felt like a manacle.
……….
“Excuse me dear, someone I must see,” Mark offered, untangling Sally Clarkson’s arm.
He walked away before she could stop him and Sally tapped her foot and followed him with her eyes, like two hunting dogs to the fox.
Lord Mark Islay walked straight to Lord Sandhurst and offered a shallow bow.
“Gerald,” Mark said.
“Mark,” Lord Sandhurst responded. He hated being addressed by his given name. Too informal for such a personage as himself, he felt slighted, but Mark was titled and rich, very rich, he would allow it.
“Question, is that your daughter over by Lady Kensington?”
“Yes,” Lord Sandhurst smiled now in earnest. “Amazing isn’t she?”
Mark wondered if the daughter was as vain and arrogant as the father and decided she must be. He smirked and nodded.
“How could she be otherwise?” He asked, in jest.
“She could not,” her father replied, thick with serious vanity.
“Might I be introduced?” Mark asked, trying to look sincere.
Lord Sandhurst smiled, just short of licking his lips and agreed.
“Certainly.”
“Oh no, here comes your father and he’s bringing Lord Islay with him,” Marlene cried, taking Rose’s hand and gripping it so hard, Rose squealed.
“Calm down Marlene, he’s just a man,” Rose said, though her heart was beating fast.
“Yes and you are plain as dried mud,” Marlene laughed.
Rose turned and caught her first glimpse of Lord Islay up close. She had to look high, for he was even taller than she’d thought. His eyes were a rich dark blue that seemed to connect himself to her, like a sailor’s grappling hook. For a moment all was admiration and kind, but then Rose noticed the change in his face, the judgment and insult. Mark ran his eyes down her figure, lingering on her bosom, proceeded down to her slippers, and then slowly traveled back up, stopping at her chest again and smirking. Everyone nearby noticed it and a few gasps were heard. Rose’s mistrust of gentlemen jolted into place and she turned her back partly towards her father, breaking Mark’s stare.
“Rose, I’d like you to meet Lord Islay, my daughter Lady Rose Sandhurst,” her father proclaimed, not noticing anything but the spectacle they were creating by entertaining Lord Islay.
Mark took her hands before she could avoid his and raised them to his lips. He kissed each digit slowly, as if testing her patience. In a moment
of irrational daring, he licked in between two of her gloved fingers. Rose stood and allowed it, but looked to her friend's face and smiled.
“It seems this fine lord is hungry father, perhaps you should show him to the hors d’ oeuvre table instead of me.”
Mark seemed to start at her sweet voice and finally let her hands free. Rose was unexpected, she sounded so innocent, young, but clever.
“Forgive me Lady Rose, enchanted,” Mark declared.
Rose didn’t believe it for one moment. Enchanted? He was playing a game she didn’t understand, but his interest in her was secondary to something else. Her instincts rang with alarm and she smiled sweetly at him.
“Oh I can tell. Are you a friend of fathers?” Rose asked.
He flinched just the slightest degree and she knew he was not. So that was the game, an enemy of her father’s here to take shots at her.
“We are long acquainted,” he replied evasively.
Mark saw it then. She knew his motive at once. She was not only beautiful but insightful. He stood a little closer.
“I hope to be a friend to you,” he whispered, in his proven seductive tone.
“Ah your lordship, what would we have in common? I raised in the country, a lady of nineteen and you? I would guess late thirties at least, seen and done everything, traveled the world, bored and jaded. Look, here comes your mistress right behind you, how handy.”
Marlene and her father gasped at her use of the term mistress, but a thirty year old Mark only smiled with appreciation at her daring. Sally Clarkson approached them and once again claimed Mark’s arm.
“It’s my dance I believe,” widow Clarkson offered, by way of an excuse.
“Oh, do go and dance. I see my partner approaching too,” Rose waved them away, dismissing the pair, grand as a queen.
Simon Bainbridge was making a direct line towards Rose and she smiled at him with everything in her. Mark noticed, was dazed by the view of her expression and turned to see its target.
“Bainbridge,” Mark offered as greeting, neither warm nor welcoming.
“Lord Islay,” Simon responded, having eyes only for Rose.
Mark observed the heated glances Bainbridge gave Rose and felt a ridiculously urge to knock the young man out. Jealously? It couldn’t be, he’d never felt jealous in his life, an alien emotion he neither liked nor wanted.
The couples took to the dance floor and Marlene with her partner also joined them. Lord Sandhurst looked at the grouping, his hand on his chin; a chill to his eyes and watched.
……….
CHAPTER FIVE
Lord Islay
Lord Islay Town House
Residence of Earl Islay
Berkley Square
London, England
Lord Mark Islay was annoyed. He was intrigued by a young lady, a debutante, a feeling he had no desire to entertain, but one he couldn’t dismiss. Nineteen, not far from a child, but with a body of a courtesan. Lady Rose resembled a man he despised, was related to a villain, but she was as beautiful a woman as he’d ever seen. He still could not shake the sensation of her hands to his lips, even gloved, she’d scorched him. Lady Rose Sandhurst, new to town, surrounded by gentlemen hot for her hand; Bainbridge heavy after her, she would not last long this season.
First, Mark broke connections with the lovely widow Clarkson. Much weeping and clutching, a raised voice screaming through choking cries, Mark had twisted his arm free one final time and left her house, feeling relieved. He was attracted to her during the first month, bored by her the second, and in the third felt only her fingers tightening around his throat and his purse. She offered ready sexual gratification and little else and no one made that clearer than his short conversations with Rose. “Late thirties at least,” she had said, the minx. This Sandhurst lady wouldn’t be bullied or sat down lightly.
Mark went to Whites’ Gentlemen’s Club on St. James’ Street and saw his old friend Lord Samuel Rayburn at the corner table. He knew Sam from Oxford and trading horses in Newmarket. Sam was rough spoken, cantankerous and opinionated. He was also loyal, raising his sister after their parent’s deaths, and a good man to know. A few years younger than Mark, but as tall and well built, the pair made an attractive embodiment of male perfection.
After greetings and jokes, the two nobles sat, ordered brandies, stretched out their long legs covered in polished boots, and grinned.
“Good to see you Sam,” Mark stated.
“You too. It will give me points just to be seen sitting with the most notorious of rakes. Whose heart have you broken this week?” Sam joked.
Mark winced and Sam laughed.
“Ah, I’m right. You’re fresh from it then, let me guess, the widow Clarkson?”
“I felt suffocated. Anyhow I’ve seen someone else. Another lady I might like to have. Do you know Lord Sandhurst?” Mark asked, trying to keep the excitement from his voice.
“That pompous ass? Who doesn’t know him? Have to admit he’s got the looks, too bad the heart is an iceberg,” Sam replied. “What about him?”
“Have you seen his daughter?”
“Didn’t know he had one? Gads, does she look like him? I might want to see her,” Sam revealed, raising his dark brows.
“Just up from the country manor and no need for you to see her. I intend to have her,” Mark declared, not liking the interest in Sam’s eyes.
“Have her? In what way? You’re not planning on ruining her for sport are you, or to get even with the father?” Sam asked.
“I might.”
“Listen, I know about how he nearly broke up your sister’s marriage, the affair. Don’t let his treachery turn you into a villain. Your sister was at fault too,” Sam offered.
“True, but Sandhurst knew what he was doing. Diversion was all it was to him, the great handsome lover. He hurt Beth.”
So your plan is to be just like Sandhurst and hurt the daughter? You’re better than that Mark, not much but some,” Sam laughed. “Is she like him, all pride and haughtiness?”
“No, she’s sweet voiced and witty. I’ve only spoken a few words to her. On longer acquaintance I’ll know for sure.”
“I have a younger sister Livy you know. I’d hate to see any rogue hurt her to get to me. I’d hate him in fact,” Sam threated, leaning over the table.
Mark looked at Sam and saw the anger flash in his dark eyes.
“Understood,” Mark replied, promising nothing.
……….
Hyde Park
London, England
Rose was riding sedately in Hyde Park in the early morning light. She could not wait to reach a clear meadow and when she did, she kicked Snowflake into a blazing gallop. She was dressed in a dark grey riding habit which perfectly matched her eyes. Her blonde hair was half hidden by a small hat, more attraction than covering. Her gloves and boots were light cream and the same hue colored the dyed feathers floating in her hat, as if still attached to the bird, they bent backwards and tightened with her gaining speed. Rose rode in harmony with her horse; she leaned, turned, twisted and rose in the stirrup urging Snowflake onwards and towards a high row of hedge.
Two gentlemen caught their breath. One with panic, the other with admiration.
A good distance away, Simon Bainbridge recognized Rose and a chill ran through him. She looked just as he’d first seen her, preparing to jump that fence near her manor. He knew he could not reach her in time to stop her, just like before, and he wondered if he had the heart to love a lady so foolish.
Mark Islay also watched the white mare galloping at full speed, her rider leaning low and urging her mount forward. He looked ahead of her and saw the hedgerows she meant to jump. His heart dropped, for he knew that row of bushes was deceptive. The land on the other side of them was lower and angled sharply. Few men he knew would attempt it and never a lady riding sidesaddle. He whipped his stallion and rode after her, knowing it was useless, but resigned to at least try. As he gained ground, Mark was shocked to see hi
s prey was Rose Sandhurst. A new urgency drove him faster, a strange twist in his gut.
Simon watched the gentleman riding after Rose and identified him too, that seducing scoundrel Islay. Was Rose running away from him, was he forcing that jump? Simon also rode forward, faster now. He felt he might be sick, from the strong emotion caught in his throat.
Rose did not hear the hoof beats of other horses. She was in full concentration and studying the ground. She saw the danger right before the final approach and pulled Snowflake to the left and a safer landing. Her horse responsive and sure, jumped and landed safely, though huffing and pulling as it slid on the wet grass on the other side. For one minute, Rose feared she might lose her seat, or the horse might fall and roll, but Snowflake stopped and shook her head, her mane flying as if to say she was not pleased with her rider’s choices.
A baritone voice shouted behind her, then another voice rang out, she knew it was Simon. Rose slid off her horse, shaken and ran her hands down her horse’s legs, checking for injury.
“You little idiot!” Islay yelled, a part of him wondering why he was so angry.
“Rose, are you alright?” Simon’s question came from the other direction.
Rose looked up to see Lord Islay coming around the hedgerow from the left. He rode up to her waving his whip.
“What the hell was that about?” He roared at her.
From the right, Rose saw Simon coming towards her and she waved her hand in welcome.
“I’m fine, stop shouting both of you,” Rose ordered.
The two men stopped and after seeing Rose unharmed, they studied each other in dislike. Both tall and mounted on fine horses, they made a forbidding pair, like boxers in a ring they circled.
“Are you alright Rose?” Simon asked her again.
“Yes, I’m fine. Please stop circling, you’re making Snowflake nervous.”
The two gentlemen dismounted and came forward until they formed an unhappy threesome.
Rose Page 4