At first Rose allowed his hands to slip inside and feel her back. It felt so wonderful, warm and strong. Then his hands moved to her sides and slid to her bosom. Such a rush of passion filled him that Mark slid his hands to her waist and lifted her, intending to lay her on the oak surface when she began to push back.
“Stop it Mark, what are you doing?” Rose cried, trying to calm herself down, for she wanted him almost as badly.
It took everything he had to stop. He sat her on the edge of the desk and stood between her legs. He held her still, leaned down and put his forehead on her shoulder. Breathing hard he whispered, “I think I love you Rose, and I’ve never said that before. Not ever, not to one of them.”
The words, ‘one of them’ brought Rose back to sanity. One of hundreds? How many times had he used his desk this way before?
“We won’t be doing this again, not while you’re still thinking you might love me,” Rose whispered. “It would be nice if you were sure.”
Rose’s head was spinning. She compared those kisses to Simons of months ago, but there was no comparison. Only Mark could kiss so skillfully because he had done it thousands of times before, with hundreds of women. Rose pulled away, she slid to the floor and turned her back to gain some strength.
Mark turned her around and started lacing her gown, running a finger down her spine before he closed it, he smiled when he heard her groan.
“Who is this duke, is he mad?” Rose asked.
“If he’s who I’m thinking, close to it. Rich as Rome but leans towards men, wild parties, sordid creatures always around him. You’ve seen him, he wears a beauty mark above his lip. He must be after an heir.”
Rose stopped breathing.
“Oh no, I have seen him. He watches me. What do you mean, he leans towards men?”
“He has a passion for men, not women. Rose, you can’t meet with him, or trust your father. They might very well have planned this from the beginning. Does anyone know you are here?” Mark asked, desperation adding strength to his voice.
“No, unless someone saw me outside your townhouse.”
“Did you ride or walk?”
“I walked and used the alleys. I kept my face covered.”
“You must stay here. Let me look into this. I can check and see if your father has been secretly meeting with this duke, or his men. You cannot go back. Abducting you is an idea this person would consider. Hide here and give me a few hours. Promise me Rose, you will wait here.”
The devil or the deep blue sea. Who was trustworthy? Mark could ruin her and strand her in a roadside inn as well as marry her. Father could have sold her to an evil man for a nefarious reason. This duke could lock her up in a dungeon and she would never be seen again. Or Simon would save her. Hadn’t he tried to once? Risk his position, fortune, and his name for her months ago?
She looked into Lord Islay’s eyes hoping for divine wisdom but saw only desire. Cravings fade. Was he a trustworthy gentleman? Rose was not sure.
……….
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rose Panics
Lord Islay Town House
Residence of Earl Islay
Berkley Square
London, England
“Follow your heart, follow your heart, trust your heart,” Rose repeated, as she paced Mark Islay’s empty bedchamber. What to do? Who to trust? Which gentleman, if any was the best for her future? Did any of them deserve her heart?
She was tempted to send a note to Janet, but feared her father would see it.
Rose considered informing Simon, but knew he’d come here, hammering on the door and giving her away.
Lord Islay had been gone for almost two hours. Was he learning anything useful? Would he come back with some fantastic tale and fool her?
Her mother had instilled such distrust inside her heart, Rose could not bring herself to believe in any of them. Simon said he loved her. Her father stated he adored her. Mark declared he thought he might love her. Who did she fancy? That was the only question she knew the answer to.
She went through the connecting door and into the inner sanctum of Mark Islay’s bedchamber. Earlier his valet had been here, stomping about, coughing and muttering, but now it was empty. It was designed in dark, rich fabrics of burgundy and black. Lots of candle holders and statues of female nudes on the mantel. Dark forest scenes on the walls, all in dark frames. A thick wool rug at a diagonal on the floor and in front of the fireplace was a deep leather sofa. Beside it stood a small table with a black book prominently resting on the waxed surface, a tempting display.
Rose reached down and picked up the leather covered book. It was snooping, wrong to do, but she needed answers and this book might possess some.
Rose sat on the sofa and carefully opened the first page. Inside the flap was a line, scrawled in a man’s hand. It read, “Property of Mark Islay.” Something about it made her shiver.
She turned the first page. It started in the year 1799.
It was written while he was at Oxford, a side note stated.
It was a list of names, women’s names and after them letters.
There was a small table at the bottom, matching each letter to a deed.
As K for kissed. F for felt. N for nude. S for sex.
The book was thick, listing hundreds of names and it was almost full. It ran from 1799 to this year, 1814. The second from the last entry was Lady Clarkson and the inventory was expanded now. It listed explicitly what they did together, what she was best at, and what he liked most.
The last name was her own. Rose Sandhurst. Then a date, “Saw her,” it read. A list of events followed, actions he wanted to do with her, recorded in alphabetical order of all things, like an invoice. Feel her, kiss her, touch her intimately, have sex with her, have her perform various acts for him.
Rose could not read anymore. She felt dizzy. She dropped the book on the leather sofa and went into the adjoining room. Taking her dark cloak, she left the bedchamber and slowly walked to the servant’s stairs at the back of the house. She carefully walked down, keeping her hand on the wall, to steady her shaking hand. “I will not be sick, I will not be sick,” Rose repeated in her head. She stopped on the last landing and listened. Pots banging, servant’s complaining, laughter, the aroma of meat cooking.
Rose turned the corner and slipped out the back doorway, with a sigh of relief, she turned again and hid behind the hedgerow. There was a commotion at Lord Islay’s back yard. The mews, where his horses stood, was loud with conversation. Mark was dismounting his horse and handing the reins to a groom. He looked tired, worried, and she wondered why.
As he came up the walkway, Rose slid down the hedgerow on the other side. Her soft kid slippers, allowing her to move silently. As he entered his townhouse, she turned and ran.
Rose ran until she couldn’t continue with the pain in her left side. All she could see was the women’s names on parchment. Hundreds of them, and things he liked, and acts they performed together. It was worse than anything she had ever imagined. Graphic descriptions, a score of pleasure along the side. Excellent to poor.
Bile rose in her throat and she bent over and spit into the grass.
……….
It was six o’clock. Lord Islay was glad to be back and he couldn’t wait to see Rose and tell her everything he’d learned. She was indeed in danger and if not protected, her disgusting father would ruin her chance of a normal life or any happiness.
Mark stepped into the library for a quick brandy, then ran up the stairs and down the hallway. He had never been so eager to see a woman. He was excited, sure of his feelings, and in high spirits. He could not believe a young lady made him feel this aware, but Rose did and he was going to have her now. Marry her. He was in love for the first time in his life and it was wonderful.
He stopped outside the unused countesses’ bedroom suite where he had left Rose. He opened the door, as if it was a present, holding a prize he coveted. The room was empty. It smelled like her. A delicious
female blend of flower and spice and he closed his eyes for a second, enjoying it.
“Rose,” he called.
No answer.
“Rose, where are you?” Mark asked, moving into the dressing room and finding it also empty.
He proceeded into his bedchamber and looked around. She was not here. Everything looked normal. Clean, strictly arranged, organized, then he saw it. A black book on the sofa.
He opened the ledger, the binding cracking and gazed at the contents. It was impossible!
“God damn it!” He roared.
……….
Rose decided to go to Simon’s townhouse, but then changed her mind. She felt sick, she was confused. He would be forceful, demanding, she could not face another gentleman. She turned again and walked to Marlene’s townhouse as fast as she could safely walk.
Marlene was just back from her sisters, but one look at Rose’s face and she pulled her inside the entry and up the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” Marlene asked, rubbing her friend’s arms and finding her skin cold to the touch.
“Sit down Rose. Answer me, what is wrong? You look as if you’ve escaped from pirates, or been chased by spirits, your face is so white.”
Marlene took Rose’s hands and rubbed them.
“You need a brandy, let me ring for one.”
“No, I am hiding. No one must know I’m here.”
“They won’t, but I’m getting you a drink, you look like you might faint.”
Before Rose could stop her, Marlene left and ran down the stairs.
Rose tried to calm down, not to think, or feel the pain rushing inside her. Mark was a cad. He recorded women like prizes, mares at Tattersall’s horse market. Rose did not know if she could ever get past this pain in her heart, for she loved Mark Islay. She would have died for him, she adored him. His tall dark looks, his blue eyes so full of longing, she had been so close to believing he loved her. Her chest hurt and she felt lightheaded from not eating. She had never felt so low and tried not to cry, for if she started, she didn’t think she could stop.
Marlene returned carrying a tray with a glass of brandy and biscuits.
“Here, don’t say anything until you’ve finished this. Every drop.”
Rose looked at the tray and decided to take her friend’s advice. She would need nourishment for her trip ahead. She tried to hurry, but choked and slowed down. Marlene watched her carefully and handed her a handkerchief.
“Whatever happened, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Don’t you cry Rose,” Marlene ordered.
“No.” Rose finally spoke, taking her friend’s arm. “Thanks Marlene. I won’t cry but I do need your help. I’m hiding from father and now Lord Islay too. They will think to come here. You must lie, or I must go somewhere else.”
“What are you running from?” Marlene asked, her eyes wide.
“Father plans on giving me to some degenerate thirty six year old duke that makes love with men and Lord Islay is a blackguard who records seductions in a ledger, like breeding cattle.”
“What?”
“Just listen. Answer me this, do you have a riding habit I can fit into and a horse that could make it to Suffolk? One with stamina? I dare not go back for Snowflake, they will think of checking our mews.”
“Rose, honey, what are you talking about?”
“I can’t stay and talk. Please Marlene, answer me.”
“Yes, I have lots of habits and one too long for me, probably right for you, though the chest will be tight. You’ll need a loose blouse and leave the jacket open. The horse, yes father has a game gelding, he could take you a ways. Are you going back to the Sandhurst Manor in Suffolk?” Marlene asked, looking afraid.
“Yes. Give me the habit, I must hurry.”
Marlene rushed to the dressing table and pulled out a brush.
“Sit, let me braid your hair first.”
Reluctantly Rose sat, and the brush felt soothing, as Marlene carefully took down her hair and braided it long to the waist in the back.
Afterwards, as Rose was dressing in Marlene’s clothes, her friend sent a note to the mews to saddle up Chester, her father’s horse.
“It’s a long ride and it’s getting dark. You can’t go now. What was I thinking to order the horse ready? Rose,” Marlene cried. “Stay here tonight.”
“I can’t. Listen to me. If something happens to me, know my father is guilty for he means to sell me to a crazy peer for a fortune. Also know there will be no help from Lord Islay, he’s only interested in seduction and he does not care about me. I’m not even sure of Simon now, for he works for my father and he’s been acting differently. Don’t trust anyone and never tell them where I’ve gone. As to your father’s horse, when I reach Sandhurst Manor, I will send Donald to town to return it. Now promise me, you will not trust anyone or answer any questions.”
“But Rose, if my father asks? He can help.”
“No. Marlene you are my best friend, my only friend. Do this for me. And remember, if I end up never being seen again, tell your father then and let the law prosecute father. I think if I fool him and ruin his plans, he would be cruel.”
“You’re scaring me. I wish you would stay. You are safer here.”
“No, I don’t think so. Do you have a hat with a veil, this pretty face will get me harmed yet.”
Marlene took a riding hat, a small delicate piece, but it was dressed with a veil. She pulled it half loose and adjusted it wider. It covered half of Rose’s face.
“That’s the best I can do,” Marlene wailed, tears running down her cheeks.
“It will do,” Rose said.
She hugged her friend and whispered comfort, then noticing she wore slippers, Rose moaned and left the bedroom, heading for the servant’s stairs.
……….
CHAPTER EIGHT
Found
Lord Sandhurst Town House
Residence of Viscount Sandhurst
8 Mount Street
London, England
When Lord Islay arrived at Lord Sandhurst’s townhouse he noticed every room was fully lit. He slid from his horse and raced up the steps and pounded on the door.
An agitated servant answered. Mark pushed his way past him and yelled, “Sandhurst!”
Footsteps, a door banging, servant’s whispers; then Lord Sandhurst appeared. He was not alone. Simon Bainbridge was with him.
“Where is Rose?” Mark roared.
“We don’t know. Out at her friend’s I imagined, but I went there at four and she was not at the Kensington’s townhouse,” the viscount answered, looking unwell.
Lord Sandhurst drew himself up, all decorum and waved Lord Islay and Simon into the library. He sat behind his desk, surrounded by solid wood inlay and poured three brandies.
Lord Islay took no time forming his attack.
“I’ve done some investigating and guess what I’ve found?”
The other two men exchanged shrugs. Simon took his brandy and swallowed down half the glass.
“A younger Simon Bainbridge used to work for the duke, I think you know who I mean. The degenerate man who flaunts society’s rules and entertains the rowdy crowd from Brighton. Dare I name him?”
“You have been busy,” Lord Sandhurst replied, a cold smile on his face.
“I believe I see your game. The duke needs an heir, but is not interested in women. He knows Simon, trusts him enough to stay quiet. Young Bainbridge is however, very interested in Rose. Tell me Simon, what were you promised? Are you to lay with the lady and sire the heirs for the duke?”
“You disgusting cad, who are you to question me?” Simon asked, with force. “It’s the only way I can have her. I’ll take care of Rose, make sure she’s safe.”
His words were slurred and Mark noticed Simon was well past drunk.
“Very clever Sandhurst, to put up a phony dislike for the lad, better to drive Rose to Simon and the goal. You must be receiving a large sum of money to place your only daughter into such
a nasty game.”
“A large fortune. It was partly arranged before we went to Suffolk. It will still work perfectly. Rose will be a duchess. Rich beyond my dreams. How are you to stop it?” Lord Sandhurst sneered.
“Remember your threat to me, made when I offered my marriage proposal? The disgusting book you forged? That list of despicable lies your man wrote? Why did you pay my valet to place it in my bedchamber now? Rose saw it.”
“I knew it would turn her from you. I heard her talking to the Kensington girl and they suspected you of all manner of dastardly deeds. She wasn’t supposed to find it yet however. I was saving that. What was she doing in your bedchamber?” The viscount suddenly asked, sitting straight in his chair.
“Rose and I made love there all afternoon, I ruined her several times. She was there at four when you were looking for her. Why even now she could be carrying my heir,” Mark lied. “Afterwards, she snooped and found your bloody book and took off.”
Simon stood, ready to grab Islay’s throat, but the viscount stood between them and shouted.
“You ruined Rose? The duke will not have her ruined! He was very specific. He even demands proof, an examination. He will not accept any lady with a whisper of scandal attached to her name. You blackguard, you devil! Did anyone see Rose at your townhouse?” Lord Sandhurst sputtered, looking green around the eyes.
“Certainly. All the servants, a few friends of mine also present when she arrived. The carriages passing by as I carried her inside. Many people I should say, the word must be out by now,” Mark lied again, saying anything to save Rose from her fiend of a father.
“It’s spoiled,” Lord Sandhurst muttered.
“I wasn’t sure of anything when I arrived, but you have confirmed every fear. Just so you don’t get any more ideas, I’ve told my friend Sam Rayburn everything and he informed his friend, Magistrate Commons. They know it, recorded it and told others. Your game is up Sandhurst. There will be no marrying Rose to a villain. I’ve had her, Rose is mine. Now where is she?”
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