A Rose at Midnight

by Anne Stuart

  The one thing she wasn’t going to do was spend the entire day immured in the hotel suite. They’d been cooped up in a carriage since early morning, and for days before that. She intended a short, decorous stroll in the sunshine. If anyone accosted her, she would simply give them the cut direct, freeze them from speaking to her. And Tony need never know.

  It was cooler outside than she’d imagined, and for a moment she wished she’d brought her shawl. She’d been unable to open that damning cupboard again, too unsettled by the sight of their snowy linen side by side, and she wrapped her arms around her as the wind whipped her skirts back against her legs. For a moment she was tempted to turn around and retreat, but the thought of those long years stretching out in front of her stopped her. She’d come halfway across Europe to rescue her best friend. Surely she wasn’t going to be intimidated by a little fresh air and company.

  She set off resolutely, determined to make good use of her time, when a voice broke through her abstraction. A familiar, British voice. One that filled her with dread.

  “I say, it’s Lady Ellen, isn’t it?” The arch tones floated over to her. She’d made the mistake of halting at the first sound of a genteel “yoo-hoo,” and she couldn’t very well pretend not to hear. “Lady Ellen Fitzwater?”

  Ellen turned, and her heart sank to her slippered feet. Of all the people to have run into, endless miles from home, Augusta Arbuthnot was the absolute worst.

  She plastered a correct smile on her face as she advanced to the woman seated on a marble bench, wrapped in layers and layers of clothing. “Lady Arbuthnot,” she murmured, taking the clawlike hand in her own shamefully ungloved one. “What a pleasure to see you. I had no idea you were in Vienna.”

  “My husband was posted here last year,” she said with an airy little wave of her plump hand. “It’s a lucky thing for me our house is being painted. I can’t stand the fumes, so Burris and I are spending the week at the hotel. If we hadn’t been, I might not have run into you. My daughter will be so pleased to see you.”

  Lady Arbuthnot was one of the most malicious gossips ever to frequent London. The daughter of a duke, she took great pleasure in making certain that those who were honored by her company lived up to her very strict standards. Those who failed to do so were given the cut direct. Ellen had always basked in her approval until she’d made the unprecedented move of retiring on her own to the country, but Lady Arbuthnot appeared to overlook such shocking behavior in her pleasure at discovering a fellow countrywoman, one who might be possessed of the latest gossip from England.

  “How is Cordelia?” Ellen asked desperately, shivering in the bright sunlight, hoping and praying there might be a chance she could squeak through this encounter.

  It was a vain hope. Lady Arbuthnot’s eyes had narrowed as she took in Ellen’s ungloved hand. “Where is your maid, my dear?” she inquired in a steely voice. “And who has accompanied you this far away from your home? Am I to have the pleasure of seeing your sister-in-law Fitzwater this afternoon?”

  “Lizzie’s in England. She’s about to have another—”

  Lady Arbuthnot’s face grew positively icy as Ellen almost committed the unforgivable breach of mentioning pregnancy in polite society. “Then who has accompanied you?” she asked flatly.

  Ellen’s mind was an absolute blank as she searched for real or fictional relatives who could be cast on the altar of Lady Arbuthnot’s curiosity. “I… er… that is…” she stammered, feeling her face flush.

  “I see,” Lady Arbuthnot said, rising to her full height, many inches lower than Ellen’s miserable form, staring past her, her narrow eyes dark with outrage. “I am horrified.” She turned and stalked away, just as her daughter Cordelia came toward them, a welcoming smile wreathing her pretty face.

  Her mother caught her as she was about to reach Ellen, yanking her back with a few hissed words. The smile vanished from Cordelia’s face, and a moment later she was whisked away from her old friend’s contaminating presence.

  “Didn’t I warn you to stay in your room?” Tony’s voice came from behind her, sounding infinitely weary.

  Ellen blinked the tears away from her eyes before turning to face him. “You did. And now I’ve ruined everything. You have every right to be furious, Tony,” she said unhappily. “But I couldn’t …”

  “I’m not furious, sweetheart,” he said gently, reaching up and brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “But don’t you think we ought to go back to the room while I inform you of the latest twist? I’m afraid my news isn’t promising.”

  She sighed, managing a brave smile, knowing her foolish action had sunk them both. “All in all it’s a miserable day,” she said, taking his arm as he led her back into the hotel.

  Tony glanced at the setting sun. “The day’s not over yet,” he murmured with a wry smile. “We might still be able to salvage something.”

  He waited until they were back in the room, waited until she composed herself sufficiently, so that her blue eyes were only faintly shiny from tears. He wanted to strangle that odious bitch Arbuthnot. He wanted to pull Ellen into his arms, carry her into that damnable bedroom, and make love to her until her tears were forgotten. He vibrated with frustration and impatience, and it took all his self-control to keep from touching her, to move to the chair and sit, seemingly at ease, as she paced agitatedly around the room.

  “They’re in Venice,” he said without preamble. “Not Vienna.”

  “Oh, no, Tony!” she cried. “They can’t be!”

  “They can. I stopped in at an old friend’s house, one who can be counted on for the latest gossip. Apparently they’ve just arrived in Italy. He’s been seen squiring her around on his arm, and Carstairs informs me he’s heard they’re very cozy. I don’t think our rescue is needed or wanted.”

  She didn’t move. Her face grew very still, and tears began to fall; silent, heartbreaking tears. He’d always thought he hated women who cried. Carlotta, his erstwhile mistress, had used her tears judiciously, to entice a new trinket from him. His sisters had used tears to get him into trouble, his mother to make him feel guilty. He stared at Ellen’s tears, entranced.

  “Oh, Tony,” she said with a wail, “I don’t believe it. I don’t know what he’s done to her, to make her submit to him.”

  “I can imagine,” Tony said dryly.

  “But I’ve ruined you. Lady Arbuthnot’s the worst gossip in the world, and she’s accepted everywhere. Everyone will hear about this, and we haven’t even been able to rescue Gilly…”

  He interrupted this torrent of misery, rising from his seat and crossing to her. He still didn’t touch her, afraid if he offered her comfort it would all too soon turn into something a bit more mutual, and he wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Even though he’d been achingly, desperately ready for what seemed like centuries.

  “We leave for Venice in the morning,” he said calmly.

  She stopped her lamentation. “We do?”

  “You’re not going to rest easy until you see her yourself, are you? And I don’t know that Vienna is the best place to stay, considering your recent encounter. We’ll disappear, deny we’ve ever been here, and perhaps they’ll think Lady Arbuthnot is a liar.”

  “Tony.” She shook her head. “That will never work. I’m well and truly in the soup. If I’d just stayed out of sight, as you told me to, this wouldn’t have happened. No one would have even noticed I wasn’t at Ainsley Hall for the last few weeks, and no one pays attention to what a bachelor may do. I don’t mind so much for myself, but I hate to embroil you in something tawdry.”

  “There’s nothing tawdry about it.” The time had come, and he knew it. For the first time in his life it wasn’t indolence that kept him from exerting himself; it was plain, old-fashioned panic, such as he hadn’t felt in years. What if she said no? “The thing is, Ellen,” he said, his voice sounding curiously rough, and he put his hands on her arms and turned her unresisting body to face him, “that I…”

  His dec
laration was halted by the sound of an imperious knock on the door. He released her, stepping back.

  “You what, Tony?” she asked, not moving, suddenly intent.

  “I’d best answer the door,” he said, moving away from her.

  “Finish what you were going to say.” She came after him, crossing the room with swift grace.

  “I’d rather do so when we’re unlikely to be interrupted,” he said wryly, opening the gilt and white door.

  He almost slammed it shut again. Lady Arbuthnot was standing there, staring at the two of them, her beady little eyes glittering with excitement.

  “My dear!” she crooned, pushing the door open, slamming it against Tony’s nose as she embraced the shocked Ellen against her massive bosom. “Why didn’t you explain? I just received last week’s Times, and I feel like a perfect harridan, jumping to such a noxious conclusion. But my dear, a simple word would have set my mind at ease.”

  Ellen stood helplessly in her embrace, at a loss for words, backing away when the old harpy released her. Milady advanced on Tony, a copy of the paper in her hand, which she used to bat him with arch coyness. “And you, dear boy. Very naughty of you. I understand, of course. I was young once myself, I know how romance can be. Fortunate for you I’m discreet, for of course I hadn’t mentioned my shocking suspicions, and never would have,” she said piously. “But I’m so pleased to find out the truth. I couldn’t be happier!” she said with a mendacious sigh.

  Tony, having been the recipient of her matchmaking attentions for her older daughter, managed a tight smile. “You’re very kind.”

  “Cordelia will love to see you,” she sailed on, turning back to the bemused Ellen. “Perhaps for lunch tomorrow?”

  “We’re heading on to Venice tomorrow,” Tony said smoothly. “I’m sure they can spend some time together when we get back to London.”

  Lady Arbuthnot’s smile hardened for a moment. “That would be so delightful.” Once more she swooped down on Ellen, dragging her into her embrace. “All my felicitations, dear girl. I know you’ll be very happy.” And then she was gone, leaving the week-old edition of the London Times in Tony’s hand.

  He shut the door behind her very quietly, turning the key so that there would be no further interruptions. His neckcloth felt too tight, the room was stifling hot, and Ellen was staring at him in complete astonishment, her mouth slightly open. He wanted to kiss that mouth, feel it open further beneath his.

  “I… I don’t understand,” she said faintly.

  “I imagine I do.” He handed her the paper, then strolled over to the window, waiting for her reaction.

  There was a long silence. “It says here we’re married,” she said in a dull voice. “Carmichael sent in the notice.”

  “Yes,” he agreed in a noncommittal voice.

  “Oh, God, Tony,” she said miserably, “I’m so sorry! How could Carmichael do such a thing! To railroad you into this… I’ll deny everything, of course. Say it was a hoax, make Carmichael retract it…”

  “I asked Carmichael to do it.”

  “We can—what?” She stopped in the middle of her tirade. “You what?”

  “I asked him to do it.”

  “No, Tony!”

  He looked at her. She looked quite miserable, his Ellen did, her eyes red with tears, her mouth trembling slightly. “Yes, Ellen. From the moment we left Ainsley Hall it was the obvious solution. There was no way you could spend even one night with an unmarried man without your reputation being ruined.”

  “You told me no one would have to know! You said—”

  “I said no one would know that I didn’t want to know. The fact that you informed your brother was sufficient. He knows me well enough to know I would do the right thing. There might be a bit of gossip when we arrive back in London, but nothing that two respectable souls like us can’t sail through.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Won’t do what, my dear?”

  “I won’t marry you.” She looked stubborn, and very, very angry. This was going to be even more difficult than he had imagined.

  “Certainly you will,” he said calmly, controlling his own temper. “You have no choice.”

  “That’s exactly why I won’t marry you. I won’t have you forced by society into a miserable marriage of convenience when your heart lies elsewhere.”

  A wry smiled curved his mouth. “And just where are you imagining my heart lies?”

  She looked confused for a moment. “Well, I guess it’s not with Carlotta,” she said, considering it. “I suppose you simply haven’t given it yet. But sooner or later you’ll find someone…”

  “I already have,” he said, very gently.

  She simply stared at him. “You can’t wish to marry me,” she said. “I’ve ruined myself, destroyed my reputation past repairing…”

  “Since I helped destroy it, I should rightfully reap some of the benefits.” He was moving toward her, carefully, so as not to startle her into flight. This was proving a bit more tricky than he’d imagined.

  “I won’t marry you,” she said miserably, staring at the floor, unaware of his approach. “I won’t…”

  He reached her, pulling her into his arms. “You certainly will. I’ve been doing my level best to court you for the last year and a half, and you’ve been ignoring all my overtures. You didn’t maneuver me into this—quite the opposite. I knew the moment we set off in search of Ghislaine that the outcome would be marriage, and I expected it would save me a great deal of bother. I was wrong,” he added with a wry smile. “I’m afraid you’re going to be a great deal of bother indeed.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes awash in misery. “No, Tony. I won’t trap you into marriage, and I won’t marry you because mean old harpies like Lady Arbuthnot jump to indecent conclusions. You haven’t offered me the slightest insult, I’ve been as safe and protected as if I were with my uncle, and you’re just trying to flatter me because you’ve got an overwhelming sense of duty, but it won’t work! We’ve done nothing wrong, and there’s no reason for us to marry.”

  He stared at her in mute frustration. “There are any number of reasons for us to marry,” he began, but she overrode him.

  “I won’t be married because society jumps to false conclusions,” she said firmly, obviously quite pleased with her reasoning.

  “Very well,” he said after a long considering moment. And he scooped her up in his arms, heading through the double doors to the bedroom.

  Chapter 20

  She was no featherweight, but shock kept Ellen from struggling too much.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded as he set her down on the high, wide bed that had been tormenting him since he first set eyes on it.

  “If you won’t marry me because you haven’t been truly ruined, then I have no choice but to ruin you.” He shrugged out of his coat and sent it sailing across the room. “And I’m damned sick and tired of being compared to some mythical uncle of yours, when my feelings have never been the faintest bit avuncular. I’m a man, Ellen. A man who wants you, and intends to have you.”

  “Tony!” she said in astonishment, staring up at him. Her golden-blond hair had come loose from its pins, and it was hanging down her back in the most delectable manner. He wanted to bury his face in that hair, and the thought that he was now about to do so made his fingers clumsy as they yanked and tore at his neckcloth.

  She didn’t scramble away from him as he sat down on the bed and began to remove his boots. “You’re being ridiculous, Tony,” she said, getting to her knees beside him. One boot hit the floor. “You know you don’t want to marry me. You think of me as a sister.” The other boot landed with a thump, and he turned to her.

  “You really have no idea, do you?” he said.

  “No idea of what?”

  “What effect you have on me. Come here, Ellen.”

  This time she did attempt to move out of his reach, crawling back, but he caught her quite easily,
grasping her wrist and hauling her across the bed.

  She fell against him, and they landed back on the mattress, her delectable breasts pressing against his chest. “Tony, you don’t…” she said breathlessly.

  “Ellen, I do,” he said ruthlessly. And then his mouth silenced hers, as he kissed her as he’d longed to do, full and hard and deep, half-hoping to shock her into believing him.

  He shocked her, all right. She lay beneath him, very still, as he used his tongue, his teeth, his lips, teasing and toying with her, until her arms slid around his neck and she was kissing him back, with all the innocent enthusiasm he’d known she was capable of.

  It took him a damnably long time to dispense with her clothes, and then his own. Her panic kept erupting at unfortunate intervals, when he slid her stockings off her long legs, when he put his mouth on her plump, rounded breast, when his hand moved between her thighs to toy with her tight curls. But each time he managed to soothe her, to seduce her past the next hurdle, until she was lying in his arms, her breath coming rapidly, her nipples peaks of desire in the hot room, her eyes closed as he knelt between her beautiful white thighs, pressing against her, his dampness and hers making her ready, more than ready.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, love,” he murmured in her ear, trying to slow his inexorable invasion. He was covered with sweat; his muscles were shaking with the incredible control he was exerting.

  Her eyes flew open as she realized what he was doing. “Tony!” she whispered. And then her voice rose to a tiny shriek as he broke past her maidenhead and sank all the way into her velvet tightness. “Tony!”

  “Hold still,” he gasped in her ear, pressing her against the bed. “Don’t move.”

  She did as he ordered, stopping her unhappy squirming and lying very still beneath him. Even without moving, the feel of her, the smell of her, were almost enough to send him over the edge. He gripped the sheets in his hands, determined not to ruin this for her. Slowly he felt a faint trace of control return.

  “I’m not sure I like this,” Ellen announced in a quiet, practical voice. “If this is the way you’re going to talk me into marrying you, I don’t think it’s going to work.”