A Melody for Rose (The Wednesday Club Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  “With me.” He seemed a little stunned.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She looked into his eyes. “Because I’m sure you know what you’re doing. And I would expect you’re very good at it, given your years of practice. I would like to learn more, and who better to teach me?”

  For once, the unflappable Lord Miles Linfield was left at a complete loss for words.

  Standing up, Rose shook out her skirts. “Now.” She glanced at the ring with a grin. “I think we’d better open the door and let the others back in, don’t you? There will be many moments of admiration for this, I can assure you.”

  He cleared his throat with some difficulty and then stood. “Er, yes.”

  She laughed. “I’m rather proud of myself. I’ve managed to become formally improperly engaged…” she waved her left hand, “and I’ve rendered you speechless for the first time ever. Both are astounding accomplishments.” She headed to the door. “And it’s only half-past four.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Miles didn’t have chance to see his improper fiancée until the next Wednesday.

  He’d spent much of the intervening time praying that she wouldn’t choose to go to Almack’s, since he had experienced a few nightmares about the attention they’d draw as a newly almost-affianced couple.

  He had seen it before, deplored it, and wondered why the hell people couldn’t live their own lives instead of hungrily gobbling up details about others’ business.

  Thus he was quite delighted to learn that she would be attending the Wednesday Club evening and not following the crowds to Almack’s. The decision made sense—he assumed her Mama would prefer a formal announcement in the Times before actually presenting Rose as the future Lady Linfield, since their current situation was, allegedly, depending upon the missing head of the family.

  While his entrance with Mowbray occasioned a few glances from mothers who might have regretted not considering him as a possible husband for their offspring, overall he was welcomed with good cheer and the odd congratulations here and there. Nothing untoward, and nothing he couldn’t handle.

  “Well, Miles.” Lady Maud caught up with him. “What a clever lad. None of us had a clue.” She grinned at him, linking her arm through his.

  “I do like my privacy,” he grinned back.

  “And you managed to retain it. I’m so impressed. And also very happy for both you and Rose. I believe you’re well-matched.” Her gaze drifted ahead to where Rose was chatting with Lydia.

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “And yet no formal announcement?” She raised her eyebrows in innocent query.

  He wasn’t taken in for a moment. “As I’m sure you know, the head of Rose’s family is currently away from England.”

  “Ah yes. The yak-milker.”

  He snorted back a laugh. “The very one.”

  “Convenient,” she said.

  He turned his head, lifting one of his own eyebrows. “Ma’am?”

  “Never mind. You’re a deep one, Miles. I am happily convinced that you are aware of all the rules. And probably managing to play by them, while also ensuring a victory.” She withdrew her arm. “Go find your young woman. And treat her gently. She is unique.”

  He blinked at her words, but nodded. “Of course, my Lady. Thank you.”

  Mowbray had gone ahead and joined a small group, without knocking anything over, which was a decidedly good omen for the evening. Lydia and Matthew were chatting with him, along with one or two others.

  Rose was nowhere to be seen, but he knew she’d be around somewhere, so he reached his brother, offering a friendly greeting to the others.

  “Where’s Rose?” Lydia asked. “I thought she might be with you…”

  “We just arrived. I haven’t seen her yet…”

  “Seen who?”

  She arrived at his side, a smile on her face, and the flash of the ring on her finger caught his eye. Without a second thought, he took her hand and tucked it under his arm. “No gloves?”

  She glanced at him. “I had to show it off.” Her grin was unapologetic. “How seldom one gets the chance to pay off a few old scores.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you had any old scores,” he chuckled.

  “One or two.” She looked smug. “But they’re not important enough to mention.”

  “It looks magnificent,” said Lydia, eyeing the ring. “And it suits you.”

  Miles sensed the tension rising in the woman beside him, a slight tightening of her grip on his arm. “You’re absolutely right, Miss Lydia,” he replied, forestalling Rose’s response. “But then again, I am known to be a man of good taste. And as such, I’m going to request a dance from this charming lady with the very pretty ring.”

  “Of course,” smiled Rose, her tensions abating. “I’d be delighted.”

  They walked to the edge of the floor, waiting for the music to begin for the next dance, and Miles noticed Lydia looking at her dance card with annoyance.

  “Lydia looks a bit put-out,” he commented quietly.

  Rose sighed. “I warned her that Robert Leith was unreliable. He puts his name down for a dance and then forgets all about it.” She followed his gaze, then gave a tiny gasp as Lydia seized Mowbray and led him toward the dancing. “Oh good God.”

  Miles grinned. “Worried?”

  “Miles,” she exclaimed. “It’s Mowbray. Of course I’m worried…”

  The musicians struck up the distinct three-four time of a waltz, and Rose moved into position with Miles. He looked forward to the dance, since they were well partnered, of a height to make such things comfortable, and both aware down to their toenails of the tempo and rhythm of the dance. Probably because of their love of music.

  He found himself chuckling as he took her into his arms. “I think you might be in for a bit of a surprise when it comes to Mowbray and dancing…”

  “He can’t walk through a room without knocking something down,” she hissed. “He’s tall. Lydia isn’t. He could seriously injure her.”

  Miles bit down a grin. “Wait and see.”

  Rose shook her head, but then they began and Miles once again found the pleasure of dancing with her to be a continual surprise. He could waltz with her all night and not get tired; there was no need for him to do anything other than lightly press his hand one way or another. She responded instantly, as if they’d spent a lifetime dancing like this.

  She smiled, a soft quick smile, that told him she was enjoying it every bit as much as he was. Then she blinked, gasped and nearly missed a step as Lydia and Mowbray whirled past.

  “Oh my…” Her words faded away as the other couple spun, dipped, and whirled again, faultless in their posture and their steps.

  Others watched as well, observed Miles in amusement. He knew that when it came to the waltz, his brother had apparently found his feet, his balance and his style, since the ease and facility with which he led Lydia through the measures far outpaced his own abilities. They always had. Their mother had discovered his skills at a local dance many years ago, and still hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of seeing her beloved younger son—who she had always viewed as having two clumsy left feet—suddenly blessed with poise, balance and rhythm. He’d become quite the desirable dance partner, but to Miles’s knowledge had not, until now, displayed his gift in such openly public surroundings.

  In fact, Miles couldn’t recall if he’d actually danced with anyone in London ever. So this was quite a surprise, and an attention-getting debut. It would probably be even better if Lydia stopped staring at him as if he’d just sprouted horns and a tail. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted and her attention was riveted on her partner.

  “Well I’ll be…”

  What Rose would be stayed a silent mystery, but Miles couldn’t resist a tiny squeeze as her eyes grew as wide as Lydia’s.

  “I did warn you.”

  She looked back at him. “I know, but this? He’s…well, he’s
better than you. And that is saying something.”

  “I think I’ll take that as a compliment.” He chuckled. “Rose.” He squeezed her again as her eyes wandered back to Mowbray’s waltzing brilliance. “Rose, I need to talk to you.”

  She dragged her attention back to her partner. “Yes?”

  “I plan on visiting Selwyn tomorrow and asking about the music. Would you be able to accompany me?”

  Her gaze never left his face. “Yes. Absolutely. Of course.” She leaned as close as the proprieties would allow. “Have you found out anything?”

  He shook his head. “No. I have, however, put together a sort of plan that has a lot of blanks in it. I think Selwyn might be able to fill in one or two of them.”

  “That’s excellent, Miles,” she nodded. “I admit I wouldn’t quite know where to start.”

  “I will pick you up at eleven. We’ll drive in the park if the weather is good, and no need to mention our other visit unless necessary.”

  “I understand.”

  She was warm and flexible in his arms, matching his moves while carrying on a conversation, and Miles couldn’t help smiling at her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m just enjoying dancing with you. That’s all.”

  A slight blush crept over her cheeks. “I’m enjoying it too. I always do.”

  “We are well-matched in this, I believe.”

  She looked away, her eyelashes masking her gaze. “Indeed.”

  “And probably in other ways too,” he said, his hand curving against her spine.

  “Most likely.”

  He kept silent for a few moments as the waltz wound down toward its conclusion. Then, just before the final notes, he spoke once more. “Perhaps tomorrow will provide an opportunity to further our explorations down such a path.”

  Quickly her face turned to him, her expression one of barely concealed excitement. “That would be…er…delightful.”

  “Yes, Rose. I agree. It would indeed.”

  *~~*~~*

  Rose was tired.

  She always found herself that way after a night at the Wednesday Club, since she danced almost every dance, talked and laughed with her friends, and eagerly feasted on some of the tastiest food in London.

  The Sydenhams greeted her like an old friend, and the time spent at Sydenham House was one of unalloyed delight.

  Especially now, now that Miles was her informally unannounced companion of choice.

  Nebulous though it all might be, she was still comfortable at his side, and hadn’t noticed too much in the way of gossip or turned heads when he claimed a third waltz. It seemed as if word had indeed spread, and unlike Almack’s where their every move would have been closely observed, at the Sydenhams it was easy to simply enjoy each other’s company, as she had done this evening.

  And now she was home, in the privacy of her own room, spared the maternal inquisition, since her mother and aunt had been engaged elsewhere and still had not returned. Used to such things, Rose simply shooed her maid off to bed and took care of herself, enjoying the quiet and private moments that gave her a chance to turn over the events of the evening in her mind.

  First and foremost, of course, was Miles.

  She could not deny the effect his touch had on her. His arms around her in the waltz, his hand on her back…all productive of a somewhat liquid shiver that made her insides tremble.

  Recognising it as desire—and accepting it as such—had made things a little easier, but she knew that until her desire was fulfilled she would continue to struggle with the tiny sharp darts of awareness that Miles’s touch induced.

  He had implied that perhaps they might kiss again on the morrow. Or…how had he phrased it…walk a little further down that path. And oh was she ready to take that walk.

  Plumping her pillows and slipping into bed, Rose reached for her side table—and the concealed drawer that lay beneath the regular one. It was handy for keeping valuables of course, of which she had none. It was also handy for secreting the most private things, since she wasn’t sure anyone else in the house had discovered it or known of its existence.

  From it, she retrieved her personal copy of Cytherean Tales, obtained with a certain amount of subterfuge and a few shillings’ bribe to the maid of an acquaintance who had declared it unreadable.

  Rose wasn’t sure if it was the subject matter or the use of longer words that had put this young lady off the volume, but whatever it was, she’d been pleased to have the maid quietly relieve her mistress of the annoying book.

  It had offered the opportunity for perusal at leisure, rather than hurriedly reading then passing it on as the four friends had done last autumn.

  Thus she had increased her knowledge considerably, now having time to study passages that intrigued her.

  Blowing out all but one candle, Rose returned to the chapter that had remained vividly in her mind after reading it.

  It concerned the amorous escapades of the enormously wealthy Miss Lucy Bonaventure, a virgin who had boldly decided to select the time, place and gentleman for her deflowering.

  Mr Bennington Martin had fit Miss Lucy’s tastes and was eager to act as the ravaging pirate intent upon claiming his virginal prisoner. Their consequent scene, where Black Jack the pirate rips the clothing from Lady Esmeralda’s pale and innocent skin and takes his pleasure of her—with her full consent—well, it was one that Rose found most stimulating.

  And the one that invariably sent her beneath the covers, exploring some of her own innocent skin, in an effort to discover what all the fuss was about.

  It was terribly wicked, completely forbidden, and would earn her a severe scolding should such activities ever be revealed. But she reminded herself that what she did alone was nobody’s business but hers. She would never, ever, speak of it to others, of course. But after a few failed attempts she learned that yes, the end result was monstrously pleasurable, and usually preceded a long and sound night’s sleep.

  Tonight, after reading only a few pages, Rose put the book aside.

  All she could think of was Miles, all she could see in her mind was Miles.

  And all she could imagine as the candle burned low, were his eyes drifting over her. Would he like to touch her the way Mr Martin had touched Miss Lucy? Would he run his fingers over her breasts and if so, how would she feel? Would he kiss her? Everywhere…?

  The questions continued, the vision of Miles grew to occupy all her thoughts and emotions…

  And she finally fell asleep, remaining so quite soundly, for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day was brisk and sunny, as was appropriate for early March. Although it might have had the reputation of coming in like a lion, this particular time was definitely slanted more toward the lamb side of the calendar.

  Miles needed his gloves and hat, but hoped that the thick muffler could be relegated to beneath his seat as the day warmed up even more. He’d opted to use the Tilbury for this jaunt; lightweight and a delight to drive, it also had a hood that could be raised if the weather turned while they were out. It was quite snug, fitting two on the cushioned bench if they settled close to each other.

  Miles was ready to get close to Rose. More than ready, in fact.

  Thus his arrival at Beauchamp Place was prompt to the minute, and he was most pleased to see his improper fiancée at the top of the steps, wrapped up in her cloak, eager to depart. A young footman stood at her side.

  Clearly their not-quite engagement had removed the necessity of a maid, since she was unaccompanied. Another rather good thing, as far as Miles’s plans were concerned.

  “Good morning,” he smiled as the footman helped her up into the seat next to him. “Ready for the park?”

  “Indeed,” she smiled back, taking a moment to thank the lad. “Go inside now, Timothy. There’s still a sharp wind out here. Please tell Mama that Lord Linfield and I will return this afternoon, should she ask.”

  “Yes, miss.” The ma
n bobbed his head respectfully and hurried up the steps to shut the door behind him.

  Miles felt Rose’s shoulders rise and fall on a sigh of relief. “Happy to be out of the house, I take it?” He clicked up the horse and they set off down the street.

  “Very much so.” She lifted her face and took a deep breath. “It’s a lovely morning for a drive. Thank you for thinking of it.”

  There were a lot of other things Miles was thinking of at that moment, but he pushed them aside, since their first stop was important. “I sent Selwyn a note yesterday, letting him know that we’d be visiting.” He paused for a minute, focussing his attention on the horse and their direction. “I’d like you to meet him and be there when I ask about your music.”

  She turned her head and glanced at him. “You know, I really must thank you for your consideration, Miles.”

  “Why? It’s your music…”

  “Yes but…” she thought about it. “Many men would have taken over this entire matter and told me not to worry my pretty little head or something else horridly patronising. And had I been another person, I might have expected that and accepted that.” She finished with a rather dismissive snort.

  “It is the way of things, Rose,” Miles answered mildly. “But you’re not that kind of woman. If you were we wouldn’t be here right now. And I doubt we’d be improperly engaged, either.” He noted the ruby ring distorting the glove she wore on her left hand. And smiled to himself as he negotiated the streets.

  “Here it is.” She gestured to the sign above a shop window. “Nota Bene, yes?”

  “That’s it.” He pulled the horse to a stop, jumped down, and looped the reins through the convenient hitching post. Looking around, he caught the eye of a young lad and beckoned him over. Flipping him a sixpence, Miles grinned. “There’s another if you watch my carriage until the lady and I have completed our business…what do you say?”

  “Aye, sir, I’ll watch’un fer ye.” The boy’s eyes were wide with glee.