by Sahara Kelly
He stopped, dropped her arm and turned to her. “Rose. If anyone even thinks that in my presence, it will give me great pleasure to plant them a facer. Firstly, I would be seriously angry with anyone who dared question my choice in brides. That’s my business, nobody else’s. And more importantly, do not ever—whether I’m with you or not—disparage yourself like that again. It displeases me. Do you understand?”
She stared at him, so handsome, so sincere, and so supportive. Her heart shifted, then flipped over, an odd sensation in her chest that almost robbed her of her breath. She fought for composure and the million words that threatened to pour out were savagely suppressed. She simply smiled and assumed a sweetly agreeable expression.
“Yes, dear.”
He let out a roar of laughter. “Better. Let’s begin the way we shall go on.” He shifted his jacket and then paused. “Dammit. I have something for you. I forgot all about it.”
Surprised, she stared at him. “For me? Oh no, not a ring?”
He grinned. “No, not that, but I expect I should do something about that soon. No, I found this a little while ago and I thought you might like it. I suppose it could well be termed an improper engagement gift…”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet from Selwyn Dunstable. “There’s a shop I visit now and again that carries not only instruments but sheet music. Selwyn manages to obtain some of the latest songs before other people. So I get the music and thus have chance to practice them and not disgrace myself should I be called upon to accompany some poor chit at an embarrassing evening of song.”
Rose found herself holding pages of music and glanced at them, her eye immediately recognising the style. “Oh,” she breathed. “This is for the harp-lute.”
“Indeed it is. Well done, Rose. I’d not have known if not for Selwyn telling me.” He took the sheets back, rolled them up and tucked them into the pocket of her cloak. “Up with you.” He helped her mount and then climbed into his own saddle after untying the horses. “I’m hoping to hear you play that shortly. I understand it’s brand new. Or it was a week ago or so.”
She took a deep breath. “Miles, you…I don’t know what to say…”
He grinned again, that particular look that lingered in her mind. “You just said it.”
She shook her head as they began the ride back to the edge of the park. This new development between them was going to prove a serious threat to her composure. Miles was too—everything. He was charming, handsome, funny, and so very caring. There was no agenda, no underlying edge to him. His very niceness was dangerous, and just how dangerous she was beginning to understand.
The delight she felt in his company was going to grow, and most likely become a weapon he could unwittingly use against her. But she was forewarned now. She’d be able to accept and manage whatever lay ahead.
As long as she ignored the little voice telling her she was already heading for a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.
*~~*~~*
Miles was experiencing something close to a jaunty sort of feeling as he rode along beside Rose, slightly ahead of their grooms. He found it amusing, since jaunty wasn’t one of the adjectives he’d have chosen to describe himself, but it seemed to fit the moment. Here he was, clattering down the street with his new—if improperly engaged to—fiancée next to him. Not an unpleasant experience at all.
He glanced at her. Perhaps she was feeling jaunty too? He couldn’t tell, since her eyes were fixed between her horse’s ears and she sat quite correctly erect in her saddle, her veil screening her expression.
She’d taken it all rather well, he thought, considering the somewhat scandalous nature of his non-proposal. That added weight to his conclusion that whatever he was going through at the hands of his mother, she would be going through something that was ten times worse. Why, he wondered, was it so crucially important that one be married as soon as possible?
He understood the continuation of the line business. Of course estates must remain within the family. The aristocracy were the caretakers of those estates, manors…lands that had been held by the same line for generations. It represented stability and should that system fail…he couldn’t imagine what would happen.
So yes, a good marriage should unite not just two people, but also their fortunes, settlements, properties and so on, where warranted. But such a goal should never preclude the happiness of those involved.
Miles caught himself up, aware that he was perhaps looking down a path he’d not anticipated.
Happiness.
He’d seen it in Ragnor’s eyes when he’d taken Judith to be Lady Withersby, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. He saw it in the eyes of Sir Laurence and Lady Maud Sydenham when they thought nobody else was watching.
So it wasn’t an impossible goal by any means.
They arrived at the front door of Beauchamp Place, and Miles dismounted, helped Rose and then handed the horses over to the groom. His would be retrieved when he was ready to leave.
“You’ll be asked to luncheon, without a doubt.” Rose spoke, the first words she’d said in a while. The look on her face told Miles they were not just a statement, but a warning.
“I would like to accept, of course. Might as well get the worst of it over now.” He offered her his arm. “But this is up to you. Should I say yes, or excuse myself?”
She smiled on a sigh. “Say yes, Miles. Two of us will halve the uproar.”
“That bad?”
“Beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
The front door opened, and he stepped back, allowing Rose to precede him into their hall. The silent butler took their outer garments.
“Is my mother at home, Chalmers? We would like to talk with her.” She glanced at the man holding her cloak.
“Indeed, Miss. You will find her in the parlour.”
“Thank you,” she smiled. “Oh, and you’ll find a music manuscript in the pocket. Could you have it put into the music room for me, please?”
“Of course, Miss,” he bowed.
“This way, Miles.” She linked her arm through his, urging him forward, although he couldn’t decide if it was to give him courage or bolster her own. Tapping lightly on the closed door, she entered, pulling him with her. “Mama?”
Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp was seated by the fire, a warm woollen shawl over her knees, and a fine fire heating the room. She looked up, then frowned. “Good Lord. A guest. Really, Rose, you should have warned me.” She pushed the shawl away, straightened her skirts and stood. “Lord Linfield. An unexpected pleasure, sir.” She dropped the tiniest of curtsies, indicating her displeasure at his impromptu call.
“Don’t blame him, Mama. It was my fault.” She squeezed his arm. “You see, we have something to tell you.”
Rose’s mother’s face froze, her eyes darting from him to Rose and back again. She reached up and clutched the lace of her bodice. “What? What is it?”
Rose looked at Miles, as much as to say go ahead. Tell her.
He narrowed his eyes, shot her a glance that he hoped spoke volumes and then turned to her mother. “Well, Ma’am, it’s like this. Rose and I have found that we…we suit each other quite nicely.”
“That’s right, Mama,” echoed Rose, a little more enthusiastic now that the ice was broken and her mother still stood. Although with a rather odd look on her face. “So Miles and I talked about it and we’ve decided to become engaged.”
“Oh God.” Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp staggered and fell back into her chair with a thump. There was a loud screech and a large cat emerged from beneath it, looking rather angry and trotting off to a far corner of the room, where it proceeded to wash itself thoroughly.
“Are you all right, Mama?” asked Rose.
The older woman waved her hand. “Of course. It was the suddenness. What a surprise. What a shock.” She sat up. “This is not some kind of horrid jest, is it?”
Rose cleared her throat. “Goodness Mama, what a terrible thing to say.”
He felt a slight nudge as Rose managed to kick his boot out of sight of her mother. “Goodness, he is so romantic,” she too raised a hand to her heart. “So that’s why he’s here, Mama. To make arrangements for us to be sort of engaged.”
“What do you mean sort of?” Her mother’s eyebrows drew close as she frowned, overcoming the glow of being referred to as a woman of the world. “You either are or you aren’t, girl. There can’t be any in between…”
“How true,” endorsed Miles with the utmost sincerity. “However, I know you could not possibly condone a premature announcement, as indeed I could not, either. And until we have spoken formally with…er…what was his name, my dear?” He looked at the girl beside him with a grin on his lips, wondering if she’d grin back. She sighed and shook her head at him, her expression promising retribution later. He rather looked forward to that.
“That would be Cousin Sinjun, wouldn’t it, Mama?”
“Oh dear,” the woman sighed dramatically. “Drat the man. Halfway around the globe I shouldn’t wonder.” She stared into the fire for a few moments. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.” She looked at the couple. “Word will get out, of course. You know that.”
Miles nodded, since he had a pretty good idea who would spread the whispers and she was sitting right in front of him. “We understand, Ma’am. And of course given that we’ll want to be in each other’s company as much as we can, neither of us can object, since we’d not want to create a scandal.” He gave her his best I’m-a-Linfield-and-don’t-you-think-I’m-adorable smile. “I have reassured Rose that we can rely on you to say all that is necessary. A woman with your presence of mind will know exactly how to handle the matter to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“Yes, indeed, I suppose…” Responding to that particular smile, Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp nodded. “It will do.” She stood once more. “Well then, Lord Linfield—”
“Please…call me Miles? I’m almost part of the family, you know…” He hoped his eyes were twinkling at her.
Apparently they were and it was the finishing touch.
“Oh, what a charmer you are, dear man. Come along then. Escort me to luncheon. I insist you join us, and then you can tell me all about yourself.” She tapped his arm coyly as he extended it to her with a bow. “I shall need to know everything, of course. I will write it all in a letter to Sinjun. With luck, we might even get you two wed before the end of the year.” She beamed. “Wouldn’t that be lovely?”
Miles glanced at Rose, surprised to see a somewhat wistful expression on her face.
“Yes, Mama,” she answered. “It would indeed.”
He wondered about that comment all through the meal. In between reminding himself he had to write a letter to his mother. And that would be challenging, to say the least.
Chapter Eleven
It had been less painful than Rose had anticipated, but that was largely due to Miles’s unflappable nature.
More than once she’d had to restrain herself from reaching across the table and slapping her mother, who thought nothing of asking the most personal of questions without a blink.
When it came to the matter of his current mistress, she drew a hard line. “Mama, that question is unpardonable, and you know it. Now stop this inquisition and let us enjoy our meal. Can you not ask about the theatre, or some other unexceptional topic?” She glared, furious for Miles and embarrassed for herself.
“I don’t see what you’re so upset about,” remonstrated Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp. “I’m your mama. I must make sure your future husband is all that is correct. It’s my duty.”
“You didn’t seem that worried about such things when you were trying to force Sir Sidney Franklyn on me…”
Rose could have bitten off her own tongue, since her unwary comment had brought Miles’s head around to her, a wicked grin curving his lips.
She glanced at him, blushed, and turned back to her mother. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”
Miles, with all the aplomb for which he was renowned, merely smiled at Mrs Glynde Beauchamp. “I’m a much better bet, Ma’am. And at least Rose will have her own children to raise, not someone else’s.”
“Who’s raising someone else’s children?” Lady Isabel Radford swept into the room and her eyes fixed on Miles. “And why did nobody mention that we had such a delectable addition to the luncheon table?”
She walked around the table and pulled out the chair next to Miles, who had risen upon her arrival. He stood until she was seated.
“Good afternoon, Lady Radford.” He took his seat again. “I’m engaged to your niece.”
To say the lady’s jaw dropped would be inaccurate, but for at least thirty seconds she just stared at him, making Rose wonder what was going through her mind.
“Really?” She found her voice. “You’re intending to marry Rose? This Rose? The odd one?”
“Imelda.” Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp’s voice cracked sharply around the room. “That will do. I’m sure you’re as thrilled as I am with the news.” This statement was accompanied by a look that clearly said if Lady Radford wasn’t pleased she could take her opinion elsewhere and do something quite inappropriate with it.
Rose, for some odd reason, wanted to laugh at her mother’s expression. It was either that or run away and bury her head beneath the nearest cushion until everyone was finished with luncheon.
Poor Miles.
She glanced at him, gave him the tiniest shrug, and got another twitch of the lips for an answer. Damn the man, it would seem he was actually enjoying this.
She took a breath before Lady Radford recovered herself and started on even more inappropriate remarks. “I say, I had completely forgotten…his Lordship was kind enough to give me a new piece of music he’d found. For the harp-lute.” She smiled brightly. “I cannot wait to play it and see what it sounds like.”
“How thoughtful,” enthused her Mama. “Perhaps if there’s time today?”
“I’d hate to delay you if you have other engagements, sir,” said Rose politely, her gaze fixed on his face.
“Not at all, my dear,” he replied smoothly. “I would be delighted to hear the piece. Perhaps after luncheon?”
“Well, I’m done,” said Rose, rising abruptly. “I think now would be a lovely time, don’t you?”
Miles quickly drained his teacup. “Yes indeed.”
“Oh, but I have so many questions…”
Rose paled at her aunt’s words. The very last thing she wanted was to be even more embarrassed by her family in front of Miles. “There will be lots of time for them, Aunt, I’m sure. Now that Miles and I have announced our intention to become engaged…well, you’ll be seeing more of him from now on.”
Lady Radford’s eyes travelled quite lasciviously up Miles’s body, arriving at his face. She licked her lips. “I look forward to it.”
Even Miles blushed a bit at that look and readily moved from the table with a bow. “With your permission, ladies?”
“Of course, dear sir, run along. You’ll find our music room quite to your liking, I’m sure…” Mrs Glynde-Beauchamp almost purred.
Rose restrained herself and did not drag Miles out of the room by his cravat, but it was a close thing. She whisked him through the door though, tugging on his arm, doing everything but picking him up and running out of there with him over her shoulder.
“Er, Rose?”
“What?” she hissed, intent upon reaching the stairs.
“The house isn’t on fire, you know, and I rather like this jacket…”
She realised her fingers were dug in deeply, and she was pulling him behind her. She slowed and sighed. “I’m so sorry, Miles, but I couldn’t stand another minute. I really should apologise…”
“Hush.” He put a finger over her lips. “They are your family. Your mother cares about you.”
“Well, I wish she wouldn’t. Not so much, anyway. And Aunt Imelda…”
“Yes, well, best leave that be, Rose. I can handle her if I need to.”
She slowed her pace, and together they walked up the main staircase and along the corridor toward her music room. “You shouldn’t have to handle anything or anyone. I can sort of understand Mama, although her questions bordered on intrusively impertinent. And you know it.” She shot him a reproving glance. “I applaud your patience, but she was not behaving as she should.”
He shrugged. “You become accustomed to it. I will allow her a lot of leeway. There is no man of the family in residence, my dear. She has the entire burden of your future on her shoulders. Was she out of line with a few questions? Yes, probably. But if I had a daughter and couldn’t be there at a moment like this? I’d hope her mama would ask every bit as pointed questions as yours just did.”
The thought of bearing Miles’s daughter made Rose miss a step, and he reached out to catch her arm, pulling her close before she stumbled. “Are you all right?”
“Loose bit of carpet,” she improvised. “I know it’s there but I always seem to trip on it.”
He left his arm around her waist, and she found it quite delightful. “Best be careful. All our plans will go to waste if you wind up with a broken ankle.”
“True,” she nodded, her pace slowing as they reached the end and she turned to open the door. “This is my sanctum, Miles. I have no problem sharing it with you…I know you’ll appreciate it. But, needless to say, few others in this household do.”
She walked in and took a breath, the familiar scents of recent fires, old wood and beeswax wreathing around her nostrils like fine perfume. It was here, in this room, that she truly felt at home.