A small maid entered and offered her a warm smile. “Good evening, Miss, I am Theresa. Her ladyship asked that I assist you.”
She nodded to the young maid. “Thank you. That will be very nice.”
Being raised the way she had, she had no problem with the maid helping her out of the tub, drying her off and helping her dress. “I believe they are anxious for you to join them in the drawing room, so may I have permission to fix your hair in such a way that we don’t have to wait for it to dry?”
“Yes. That would be fine.” She turned so the maid could fasten the back of the gown Diana had left for her. “They are anxious for me?”
Theresa walked around her and smiled. “Actually, Mr. Driscoll is anxious to see you. He has been pacing the drawing room since they arrived.”
Theresa had her sit at the small dressing table in the bathing room where she plaited her hair, then wrapped the plaits around her head, fastening them with pins. Looking in the mirror, Amelia could hardly reconcile the woman in the mirror to the one who arrived with face paint, loose hair, and dressed in scandalous nightclothes.
“I have been asked to escort you to the drawing room when we are finished,” Theresa said. She looked over Amelia’s shoulder and smiled at her in the mirror. “I believe we are ready.”
Amelia nodded and stood. They walked the corridor to the stairs that led to the ground floor where the public rooms were located. Amelia’s heart began to pound, and she was finding it hard to catch her breath. Driscoll stood on the other side of the imposing, large wooden door.
Would he turn from her in anger? In disgust? Might he tell her she was no longer employed by The Rose Room? Would he insist she return to Randolph with a warning to him to treat her better?
Stiffening her spine, she took a deep breath and stepped through the door the footman opened. Diana, Lord Huntington, Dante and Driscoll ceased their conversation and turned at her entrance. She had to tamp down the urge to flee.
Driscoll walked up to her and took her hands in his. “Are you feeling well, my love?”
She stared into his eyes. Anger?
No. Disgust?
No. Concern?
Yes. Love?
Frighteningly so. She licked her dry lips. “Yes. I am well. Thank you.” She turned to Lord Huntington, Diana, and Dante. “I can’t express how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me. I cannot. . .” She stopped, her throat working as she tried to control the tears that threatened to embarrass her.
Diana stood and motioned to her husband and Dante. “I think it is time for us to retire. Dante, if you wish we have a room readied for you.”
Dante shook his head. “Thank you, Diana. You are gracious as always. However, I think there is still time for me to stop by The Rose Room.” He walked to Amelia. “Welcome back, Miss Pence. ’Twas an interesting night.”
She grinned. “Thank you.”
The three left the room, closing the door softly behind them. Amelia began to study her feet encased in the soft slippers Diana had provided, not quite sure what to do now that she and Driscoll were alone.
Driscoll placed his finger under her chin and raised her head until she was staring into his eyes. She was still unable to reconcile the emotion she saw there. “Would you care for a drink? Brandy? Sherry? Tea?”
Amelia nodded and ran her palms up and down her arms. “Actually, a brandy sounds very good right now.”
He led her to a settee and walked to the other side of the room and poured two brandies. He turned to face her and leaned against the sideboard, his long legs crossed at the ankles as he swirled the brandies and studied her.
She quelled the desire to squirm at his scrutiny. Pushing himself away from the sideboard, he moved forward and took the space alongside her. He handed her the cut crystal snifter, watching her over the rim of his glass as he drank. She took a sip, the liquid burning all the way to her stomach. She sucked in a deep breath and coughed.
Once she had her breath back, he casually stated, “You are no longer an employee of The Rose Room, Miss Pence.”
“Miss Smythe,” she mumbled. Her shoulders slumped. He was angry with her. Probably all the Rose brothers were.
Driscoll raised his brows at the news of her real name. He removed the glass from her hand and placed it, along with his own on the small table in front of them. “Do you know why you are no longer employed?”
She shook her head, unable to speak. Of course, she could think of many reasons, starting with his anger at the secrets she refused to tell him and ending with requiring him and his brothers to rescue her from the clutches of her horrid stepbrother who they had already banned from the club.
Before she could ask for a reason, he slipped from the settee and rested on one knee in front of her. He took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes. “Miss Amelia Pence—Smythe, if that is your true name—I would be the happiest of men if you would consent to be my wife.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, one at a time, while he stared up at her.
Wife?
Oh, good heavens, she was about to cry again. She couldn’t speak, only nod. Driscoll’s grin convinced her he was serious. He pulled her down alongside him on the floor and cupped her face, covering her mouth with his. The passion that exploded in her body would have knocked her to her knees had she been standing.
Driscoll pulled her closer, angling her head so he could take the kiss deeper. His tongue nudged her lips and she gladly opened to him. Their tongues tangled, sweeping, tasting, sucking. Every fear, worry, and rage that had occupied her mind for the past few days vanished like a wisp of smoke on a windy day.
Driscoll pulled back and kissed the sensitive skin on her neck. He moved to her collarbone, nipping, soothing with his lips, his tongue. “I love you, Amelia, and I’ve wanted you for so long, and dear God, I thought I’d never see you again.”
His hands wandered her body, squeezing, caressing, stroking. He cupped her breast and flicked his thumb over her nipple which immediately responded standing straight and hard. Once more he covered her mouth, crushing her to his body. He could not get enough of her. And to think he almost lost her.
Slowly pulling back, he rested his hands on her shoulders. “I want you. Now.” He eased forward, his mouth close to her ear and whispered, “Diana mentioned which bedchamber you were given.” He kissed her closed eyelids. “Smart woman, my sister-in-law.”
Amelia sucked in a breath at what he was suggesting. She looked at him, with all the love that was in her heart. Without hesitation she said, “Yes.”
It seemed that was all he needed to hear. Driscoll jumped up, extended his hand to help her rise. He wrapped his arm around her waist and quickly herded her out of the drawing room, up the stairs and down the corridor. Quietly, he opened her bedchamber door. “I will be gone before dawn, so no one needs know,” he whispered against her lips.
He pulled her inside and cupped her chin to kiss her once more as the door latch slowly clicked shut.
21
The morning after the auction disaster Newton sat at his breakfast table still dressed in the clothing from the night before. His bleary eyes could barely focus with the throbbing of his head and the roiling of his stomach.
One didn’t have to be overly intelligent to guess the Rose brothers had something to do with Amelia’s disappearance. Once he was feeling better, he would go to the club and demand they return the chit to his protection. He was her guardian and if he had to invoke the courts, he would do just that.
“My lord, you have a visitor.” Stanford, his butler at the door spoke quietly having already received a tongue lashing for speaking too loudly earlier.
Randolph waved his hand. “I’m not receiving.” It was most likely another disgruntled guest from the night before wanting to harass him further. It was bad enough that he still owed Lyons the money for the wager and now the man was demanding Amelia as well as fifty pounds for his trouble. Where the devil would he get fifty pounds?
>
Stanford took his leave and before Randolph could return to his muddled thoughts a scuffle ensued outside the door to the breakfast room. He looked up to see Driscoll Rose looming over him. “Get up, Newton.”
“Come to gloat, did you? Well, I intend to visit with my solicitor today and make arrangements to have Miss Smythe returned to my care.”
“Your care?” Rose growled. “You call auctioning her off to a bunch of leering, debauched wastrels taking care of her?”
“’Tis none of your business.”
Driscoll leaned down, so close Randolph could smell the coffee on his breath. “Stand up.”
When Randolph didn’t move, Driscoll grabbed him by his cravat and hauled him to his feet. With one swift punch to the gut, Randolph collapsed to the floor, casting up his accounts all over the Aubusson carpet, the last of his finer things—everything else having been sold.
Driscoll grabbed a napkin from the table and dropped it on him, then growled, “Clean yourself up and stand. I’m not finished with you.”
If not for the crazed look in his visitor’s eyes, Randolph would have curled up into a ball and shouted for Stanford to toss Rose out the door. However, he wiped his mouth and climbed to his feet.
Rose grabbed him again and slammed him into his chair. “Miss Smythe is no longer your concern. She has accepted my hand in marriage.”
“Now see here,” Randolph sputtered, “she cannot marry without my permission.”
“Wrong, Newton. She will and damn your guardianship. And I will explain why.” Rose drew out a chair and sat, adjusting his jacket, and resting his ankle on his knee, as if they were having a gentlemanly conversation. “What you attempted to do last night is illegal. Right now, as we have this friendly conversation, my brother is headed to Scotland Yard to file charges against you.” He brushed lint off his jacket. “In case you’re wondering, we have men willing to step forward and testify as to the events here last night.”
“Nothing happened here last night except a gathering of men to enjoy cards and drinking. No different than any other gentlemen’s clubs. Or your own gaming club for that matter.”
Driscoll shook his head. “Stubborn, aren’t you? Well, the men we have already contacted have agreed to testify as to why there was a gathering here last night. Miss Smythe is also prepared to swear that you tried first to pay a gambling debt offering her services as a mistress, and then decided to make it a full auction instead.” He shook his head. “Not well done, Newton. Illegal. Immoral. Very untrustworthy. Very un-guardianly. The courts look down on men who abuse women and take advantage of their wards.”
His head pounding even more, and his stomach still prepared to bring up whatever was left, he closed his eyes and shook his head. “What do you want, Rose?”
Driscoll grabbed him by the cravat again and came within inches of his nose. “You will sign the papers I have with me, granting permission for Miss Amelia Smythe to marry Mr. Driscoll Rose, second son of the late Earl of Huntington and brother to the current Earl of Huntington.”
Randolph nodded. He knew when he was outflanked and outmaneuvered. How he would pay Lyons remained to be seen but facing the authorities with these ruinous charges left him no choice.
Rose whipped out papers from his pocket and opened them. Laying them flat on the table, he produced an ink pen and handed it to him.
“I am prepared to pay off your debt to Lyons, as well as offer you two hundred pounds once this contract is signed.”
Randolph frowned not quite sure he’d heard correctly. “Why would you do that?”
“Because, despite everything, you are Amelia’s only family. I want her to be happy and not constantly reminded of the debacle she suffered at your hands every time she sees you at an event.” He pulled a small linen sack from his pocket, along with a small piece of paper. “I will give you this money on one condition.”
“What is that?” Rose was too cagey to do this just from the goodness of his heart.
He handed him a ticket. “You will accept this for the next boat that sails from Southampton to America. You will use the two hundred pounds in that sack to start a new life for yourself. Hopefully one not as debauched as the one you’re leaving behind.”
Randolph’s heart thumped with both fear and excitement. Leaving his home and country did not appeal but having Lyons off his back and the chance to start a new life gave him something he hadn’t had in a long time.
Hope.
“I agree.” Randolph quickly signed his name and handed the pen back to Rose. Driscoll tossed the bag at him and handed him the ticket. “I will take care of Lyons.” He stood and once more pulled Randolph to his feet. “Just one more thing.”
Before Randolph could process what Rose said, the man drew back his arm and smashed his fist into his face, knocking him to the ground again.
He brushed his hands together and stared at him. “Have a nice trip.”
* * *
Driscoll returned to Hunt’s townhouse pleased with himself. If Hunt was able to secure the special license, which Driscoll had no reason to believe he wouldn’t, the wedding would take place as soon as Amelia and Diana purchased what they felt was suitable wedding attire for his bride. Hopefully that wouldn’t take too long.
He intended to take Amelia on a wedding trip but had spent time looking for a decent house to lease, since obviously his flat would not do for a married couple. He’d found two that were acceptable, but he wanted Amelia’s opinion before he committed to either of them.
“His lordship is in the breakfast room, Mr. Rose.” Peters, Hunt’s man at the front door offered a slight bow as he stepped back to allow Driscoll to enter.
Driscoll nodded and took the stairs two at a time to the first floor where the breakfast room was. He entered to see Hunt and Dante seated, sharing a meal. “I guess I am late to the party, then.” He moved to the sideboard and filled a plate with eggs, bacon, beans, toast, and smoked trout.
“We have news,” Dante said as Driscoll shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap.
“What is that?” He took a sip of tea one of the footmen poured into his cup.
Dante rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward as he studied Driscoll. “Although it was quite hard for me to believe, we have evidence that John, our trusted banker since we opened, was the one shorting Amelia’s receipts every night.”
Driscoll stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “John?” He took a moment to digest that. “I agree, it is very hard to believe that.”
Dante’s lips tightened. “I’m sorry to say he was also the one who took Lady McDaniel’s necklace.”
John? Not only was it hard to believe, but the only reason he gave credence to the story was because Dante was the one telling him. He resumed his breakfast as Dante continued.
“Since you were so adamant that Amelia was not stealing from us, I hired an outside man to investigate a couple of weeks before the ball.” Dante picked up a paper in front of him and waved it at Driscoll. “This is his report which came yesterday afternoon, but with the activities last night, I never had the chance to discuss it with you.
“Mr. Hartwell, the investigator, had no pre-conceived ideas about the employees since I told him nothing about any of them, so he was able to quickly check the stream of money and with careful observation and counting himself, he discovered where the problem was.”
Driscoll shook his head. “Why would John do such a thing? He was well-paid and I always thought of him as a friend.”
“A woman, why else? He got himself tied up with a woman who demanded things beyond his reach, so he did what many men do to make fools of themselves,” Dante said with a sneer.
Hunt, who had been watching the play between his brothers smiled. “Ah, Dante, I’m not saying either myself or Driscoll are not enamored of our women, but I can understand the playing a fool part.”
Dante stared at the two of them and shook his head. “You two are pathetic. I would never have a
woman lead me around by a nose ring.”
Hunt burst out laughing. “I would not concede that they are leading us around with a nose ring, but one day you will meet your match, brother. Mark my words.”
“Never.” Dante stood and pushed in his chair. “While the two of you bore each other to death with tales of your love life, I shall visit with my tailor and then spend a few hours at my gentleman’s club before opening The Rose Room later.” He offered a slight salute and made a quick exit.
“Poor bloke. He has no idea how easy it is to succumb to cupid’s bow.” Hunt withdrew a folded paper from his jacket pocket. “I have your special license here. I think the ladies are out today gathering what they need to turn your lady into a perfect bride.”
“Thank you, brother. I shall contact the vicar today and make the arrangements. Is it acceptable if we hold the ceremony here?”
“Of course. Diana has been happier planning this wedding breakfast than she’s been since our daughter was born. It gives her something else to focus on besides how fragile a babe’s life is and wondering if every hiccup or cry announces the arrival of a disastrous ailment.”
“I’m sure it will pass. As an impartial observer, your daughter looks quite robust to me, and I don’t know anything about babies.” Driscoll took the paper from Hunt’s hand and stood. “Thank you for breakfast. In my optimism for women to quickly put together a stunning outfit for my bride, I shall advise the vicar that the wedding will take place two days hence.”
“I will relate that to our ladies when they arrive from their shopping trip.”
Driscoll left feeling quite happy. In two days’ time he would be a married man, with the woman he would never want to live without by his side. Her despicable stepbrother will shortly depart these shores.
He and Amelia would have a fine wedding trip, followed by settling into their new home. Yes, he had much to look forward to. Who knew a woman, sopping wet and dressed as a man, falling through his window, would end up bringing him such peace and happiness?
A Lady’s Trust: Rose Room Rogues ~ Book Two Page 16
