How could he not?
“How old is he?”
“Six and ten.” Rome swallowed hard. “His name is Wesley.” And before she could ask, he added, “He was raised near Harlow Point, by his grandparents who were also two of my tenants. His grandfather passed last year. Wesley and his grandmother moved to Wales this past autumn, so she could be with her family there.”
“That is why you have chosen to travel south this year.” Miss Ursula Waring was not a dimwitted woman. He’d done his best to dissuade Mrs. Creighton, but she had been grieving. Wesley had been grieving. His own wants had seemed selfish to him then.
He nodded. Again, amazed that he had shared such personal details with her.
“I received word this week that Mrs. Creighton, Wesley’s grandmother, passed recently as well. Her brother says Wesley wishes to remain with him, however.”
“But you must go to him!” She didn’t hesitate in her response. “He will need his father.”
Rome’s heart pinched. “Wesley resents me. Even so, I’m planning on going to Wales after the party. I need to be certain that he does, in fact, wish to remain in with his great uncle.”
In her silence, his own doubts taunted him. He’d wanted to raise the boy on his own but had folded at the Creightons’ insistence that Wesley’s place was with them. He would share their name. They could raise him as their own.
He would not be considered but a bastard to the lord of the manor.
“But you are his father,” she stated. “At six and ten, he ought not to be allowed to make such a decision.”
Her words shifted his ideas somewhat. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps it was time. A strong gust of wind blew through the trees, bringing with it even more snow. When she shivered, Rome drew her closer so that he could shield her somewhat with his body.
He ought to have shielded her from his woes.
“I would have insisted you ride with Lady Danbury if I’d realized this storm would move in so quickly.”
She peered up at him and broke the solemn mood with teasing eyes. “So, we are to speak of the weather now?”
Minx.
“I’ll have you know there are days when the weather deserves such attention.”
“Touché.” She laughed. Walking side by side like this, he enjoyed the feel of her beside him. If he tilted his head just so he caught a whiff of her scent.
“Have you reconsidered?” He couldn’t help himself. Not only was he drawn to her physically, he admired her spirit, and now, seemingly, her intellect.
She stiffened beside him.
“Take more time. Don’t decide now. Give me your answer later tonight. I’ll await you in the study.”
The fact that she did not respond immediately gave him a glimmer of hope. Damn, but Penelope would kill him.
They stepped out of the trees and the angled rooflines of Cortland’s great mansion came into view.
“It’s a very good offer, for someone such as myself.” She stared straight ahead, sounding more distant than she had a moment ago. “But I don’t need more time. The answer is no.”
This time, rather than quietly disappear as she had the night before, she took off at a mad run.
He could not help but wonder, exactly what she was running from.
Him?
Or her own desires?
Chapter 12
Awkward
That afternoon, Rose found little free time to worry over the conversation she’d had with Lord Darlington. The Duchess of Cortland not only hosted a ball, inviting every person from miles around, but tenants, local workers, and village merchants knew that to make a visit to Summers Park on Christmas Day would add a good portion to their pantries.
Rose had been assigned to assist the duchess and Penelope at the front door in handing out and fetching additional baskets from the kitchen when necessary. The job was tiring, but satisfying indeed, especially after the conversation she’d had that afternoon.
“This is my Christmas gift to myself,” Rose overheard the duchess tell Penelope. And Rose understood all too well. The people who came were not only happy, joyful at the gifts, but relieved.
She imagined it would assure that many of them had flour and lard and even some preserves to feed their families through the worst part of winter.
The visitors tapered off as the sun went down, and then it was time to dress Penelope for the evening’s festivities.
“I’m exhausted.” Pen threw herself onto the bed.
“A bath ought to revive you some.” But Rose was only glad that she herself would not be required to dress and make nice in the evening ahead.
Penelope lazily watched as Rose smoothed the silk indigo gown they’d decided on earlier. “What did Darlington say to you? This afternoon? I find it rather odd that he would offer to escort you. Is he making trouble for you, Rose?”
Of course, Penelope would not allow his gesture to go without comment.
“He was merely being kind.” But Rose bit her lip.
“Was he? Tell me what he said.”
“We discussed the weather… politics. The man is lonely,” Rose admitted.
“Yes.” Rose’s opinion seemed to distract Penelope from Rose’s less than proper decision to walk alone with him. “The blasted man needs to find himself a wife. I believe that I will send you with Margaret next month, Rose. You can steer her in his direction. She’d be perfect for him.”
A week ago, Rose would have heartily agreed. But Margaret was… black tea and bread. Lord Darlington needed sugar and pastries in his life. And chocolates. He and the lovely widow might get along well enough but their lives would be dull as rain.
“You really won’t miss me?” It was lowering to suddenly find herself unnecessary.
“Goose! Of course, I’ll miss you. But you need… something. And I’ve already convinced Margaret to go. I think she’ll enjoy herself more if she takes you along. It’s been too long since she’s allowed herself any fun. I think you’d be good for her.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Oh, I’m sure, Rose. This is the perfect opportunity for both of you.” Then she held two gowns up beside one another. “Which one, do you think?”
Rose sat up in bed. She blinked, not sure what had awakened her. The fire in the hearth had gone out long ago and that icy cold of a winter night filled the room. Normally, she would have snuggled deeper under the counterpane and gone back to sleep, but ever since her conversation with Penelope about traveling with Margaret rather than returning to Land’s End, an sense of loss had come over her. It was oddly similar to when she’d lost her footing in the park. It didn’t make any sense. Of course, she’d return to Penelope afterward and yet…
How much would change while she was away? Would she find herself replaced? She rather imagined herself sliding again with nothing to grasp hold of.
Sleep wasn’t going to come any time soon. What she needed, she decided as she sat up, was a tiny sip of whatever it was Darlington had been drinking the night before.
She’d gone to bed early. It must be after midnight. If she didn’t do something to shake these feelings of anxiousness, she would be ready for Bedlam by morning.
Not willing to consider that she might be going downstairs for any other reason than to take a few sips of liquor, she climbed out of the tall bed, slipped her feet into her slippers, and then, just in case she came across any other sleepless guests or servants, slid her arms into the red dressing gown she’d commandeered from Penelope.
The lovely garment would also keep her bones from freezing when she was making her way through the long corridors. If anyone was in the duke’s study, she’d turn back without them seeing her. But she had to shake this recklessness. A sip of something potent would be perfect.
He wouldn’t be there.
She’d given him her answer. She’d firmly refused his offer. Of course, he would not wait up for her on the off chance that she had changed her mind because she had not.
; She had not!
She dismissed the thought, fairly certain her qualms were groundless, and quietly closed the chamber door behind her. Ignoring memories of the viscount in this same darkened corridor a few evenings before, she padded down the stairs before turning toward the portrait-lined foyer that led to the duke’s study.
She’d declined his offer the night before and then again that afternoon. He’d kissed her twice now. She shivered at the memory of the strength in his arms as he’d embraced her, his scent, his taste.
“You shouldn’t wander at night alone, Miss Waring. Even at Christmas, a house party can prove to be dangerous.”
As though her thoughts had summoned the man himself, her eyes made out his shadowed figure, leaning against a marble post, casually.
She had not expected to see him downstairs again. Had she?
Had she secretly hoped?
“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d try some of what you had last night. I enjoyed the flavors.” Only she hadn’t tasted any the night before.
Except on his lips.
His eyes flared. He too realized how she’d tasted the amber liquid. “By all means, then.” He gestured toward the large door to his left. “Ladies first.”
Rose cracked open the door tentatively, and then more confidently when she noticed no one was at the desk, nor sitting on the long settee and yet… “Who on earth would leave burning candles in here? The entire manor could burn to the ground!”
Darlington stepped up behind her, gave the room a quick glance, and led them both inside. “You and I must talk.”
Rose went to move away from him, but he’d taken hold of her hand and drawn her closer. She’d wanted to see him. It was why she’d come, and yet she could not be his mistress. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m sorry if you feel as you do, but nothing can ever come of—”
He halted her words by pressing his finger to her lips, shifting his eyes to the settee.
They were not alone after all.
The blanket that appeared to be casually spread out on the leather sofa was… moving. And it had two sets of feet sticking out the bottom.
One set, all too familiar to Rose. The other set, she deduced, belonged then, to—
“Danbury?” Darlington dropped her arm.
Penelope peeked over the furniture, her hair tousled, the braid Rose wove earlier distinctly unraveled. “Rome Spencer, what are you doing with my maid? What on earth would you have to discuss with her? So help me—”
“Penelope.” Danbury wrapped the blanket more modestly around his wife. Her bare shoulders had risen from behind the couch, and she was showing more skin than any lady ought to.
“Pardon me.” Darlington turned his back on the couple who had obviously been…
Rose blinked, although she wasn’t surprised. She now noticed Penelope’s night rail laying on the carpet, as well as a familiar-looking banyan.
“Rose? Do you have an explanation for being alone with this scoundrel?” Penelope drew Rose’s attention again.
“Me? I’m not the one—” Rose sputtered as she collected Penelope’s gown and tossed it in her direction. A bit of Danbury’s bare arse protruded from the blanket, but in all honesty, it wasn’t the first time Rose had been presented with such a sight. It wasn’t as if the couple kept to his bedchamber for all of their marital exploits. “In Cortland’s study, Pen?” Really?
“I trust you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for being alone at this time of night with my wife’s maid, Darlington.” Danbury pulled a large nightshirt over his bare chest while Penelope seemed to be maneuvering back into her gown beneath the quilt.
Rose turned to stare at the viscount’s back.
He cleared his throat. “I—”
“I’ve lost your broach, Pen,” she interrupted before he could say anything incriminating. “I’ve been searching for it everywhere and awoke and have been unable to sleep knowing it is missing. I stumbled upon the viscount, purely by chance, and he suggested that it might be in here.”
“Purely by chance?” Penelope’s voice carried more than a hint of skepticism. “Which broach?”
Rose searched her mind. “The… emerald one?”
“I don’t own an emerald broach.”
“I must have dreamed it then.” Rose did not meet Penelope’s eyes as she scurried around to secure her friend’s gown in the back.
“This is true?” Danbury would confront Darlington, of course.
Viscount Darlington had turned again to face the room. “Did you think I was after a tryst with your wife’s maid?” He raised one sardonic eyebrow. Rose hadn’t seen him take on this demeanor before. Mocking. Haughty.
Danbury laughed. “One never knows.” He turned to where Penelope and Rose were now standing together. “Seeing as this wayward broach doesn’t actually exist, might I suggest, Rosie, that you escort my wife back to her bedchamber.” His words were spoken in a kindly fashion, but Rose understood immediately that they were not a request.
“Of course.”
“Share a drink with me?” Rose overheard Penelope’s husband ask Darlington just before she closed the door behind Penelope. Had Lord Danbury guessed what Lord Darlington had proposed to her? She wished she could lean an ear against the smooth mahogany, but she didn’t want to give Penelope any additional cause to suspect… Suspect what? That she’d been tempted by the viscount’s offer? That she found him devastatingly attractive and could hardly sleep at night for thinking about him?
And to top all that off, she’d not even managed to get a drink for herself. After that debacle of an encounter, she most definitely deserved one. Penelope’s hips swayed as she climbed the stairs, her dressing gown wrong side out. What would it be like to know a love like that?
Penelope’s cheeks had been flushed, her lips swollen and red.
She touched her own lips.
What would it be like?
He’d been standing in the darkness, almost as though he’d been waiting for her. Was it possible he’d hoped?
Rose hated that such foolish thoughts would likely keep her awake for the remainder of the night.
No rest is to be had by the wicked… Was she? Wicked, that was?
The wind rattled against a nearby window, sending a chill down her back.
“Are you coming, Rose?” Penelope looked tired all of a sudden. And disappointed.
And worried.
Rome would not ask Danbury why he’d found it necessary to carry on outside of the privacy of his chamber. He would, however, share a drink with the man.
Rome was doing an awful lot of that since attending this damn house party.
In fact, he’d been doing just that when he’d caught sight of her sneaking through the corridor. She’d appeared undecided as to what she was looking for or where she was going.
Since their conversation that afternoon, he had an inkling that she might come looking for him. And if she did, he’d decided he would ask her again to become his mistress. He’d planned on executing a bit more finesse in persuading her. If she refused once again, he’d leave the next day for Wales, where he would settle matters once and for all with Wesley.
He’d go to London after and offer the position to somebody else. There had been that pretty little blonde opera singer…
His thoughts centered on Miss Ursula Rosamond Waring too much as of late.
“My wife is concerned about you, Darlington. About your reputation and your unmarried state.” Danbury’s comment brought his thoughts up short.
What the hell? When had this become a concern of Danbury’s? The disgusted glance he sent the other man must have given him some sort of indication as to Rome’s feelings on Lady Danbury’s concern.
“Mind you, I quite understand the nuisance of meddling women,” Danbury added. Quite true. It had come as a shock to all of the ton when Danbury and Penelope’s marriage made its way into the broadsheets. “But there is a greater concern. We all know it not to be true. A rumor…” Danb
ury did not meet his eyes.
Yet another rumor? “Out with it,” he demanded. If something was amiss regarding his reputation, Rome needed to know. Was some lady crying foul where he was concerned? He searched his mind to remember the last time he’d done anything even remotely scandalous. Before he’d become more acquainted with Miss Waring, that was.
“Christ. Only the ladies have heard this particularly heinous rumor thus far, to my knowledge. But once ladies get wind of something…”
“Will you simply spit it out, Danbury?”
Danbury took a deep breath and then met Rome’s stare levelly. “Servants have been speculating as to your… sexual preference. Speculating that you’re a backgammon player.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Rome uttered instinctively. He hadn’t believed the falsehood would persist.
“I know that,” Danbury said. “As does anyone who knows you. But the fact is, even your sister has heard the rumblings.”
Dammit all to hell. Rome shook his head. “I had assumed it was some sort of rotten joke perpetrated by one of my brothers.”
“It’s beyond that, Darlington.”
“Who would stand to gain by starting a rumor like this?” Rome had not always pleased everyone in his business dealings, but he didn’t think he had any enemies so very vicious as to…
And then he knew. It was the only thing that made sense.
“Of course, the simplest remedy is for you to marry. And I agree with the ladies on this front, my dear fellow. I doubt the gossip will go much farther, but if it does… Marrying will not only protect your family from worrying about you, but their own reputations as well. If nothing else, think of your brothers.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Rome glared across the room at a man who’d only one year ago declared marriage to be an abomination.
“I’m on your side, Darlington. I’m simply pointing out the facts.”
Rome ran a hand through his hair and then scrubbed that same hand down his face. He’d have to meet with Lady Eliza’s father.
“It’s not as though you’ve been actively avoiding marriage. You were betrothed.”
Lady Be Good: Lord Love a Lady Series, Book 5 Page 12