by Isabel Morin
Rose could only smile, too overwhelmed herself to reply.
“God knows how I’ll keep my hands off you for an entire month,” he said, pulling her closer.
“Sometimes kissing you is all I can think about,” Rose confessed.
“My dear, that is a dangerous way to talk when we’re alone in a room together. I plan to kiss you, never doubt that. But I meant something a bit different. I meant that I would like to put my hands on you in the way that a husband may do with his wife. And that is all I think about. When we kiss as we did last night, I find it difficult to stop when I ought to.”
“Then we must not indulge in those sorts of kisses until we are married. A month is not so very long.”
“It’s a lifetime, but you’re worth the wait,” he replied, smiling his devilish smile as he drew her closer. “How shall I kiss you? Like this?” he asked, pressing his lips to the back of her hand.
“Yes, that’s perfectly acceptable,” she replied, smiling her approval.
“Is this to your liking?” he inquired politely, dropping a chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Yes, that is most proper for a fiancé, though not in public,” she responded archly, though she could not keep a smile from touching the corners of her mouth. She liked this teasing, light-hearted side of him and was now thoroughly enjoying herself.
She looked up at him expectantly, and his voice was rough and low when next he spoke. “How does my lady like this?” Rose’s eyes fluttered closed as he bent to her, and she gasped, beyond speech, when he lightly kissed each eyelid, his lips soft as a butterfly. Kissing first one corner of her mouth, then the other, he brushed his lips over hers as if he had all the time in the world. So sweet was the seduction, a little moan escaped her.
Luke’s nonchalance vanished.
Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the loveseat, where he sat down with her in his lap. Rose’s eyes widened in surprise at being held so intimately. Curious, she moved tentatively over the evidence of his desire, and he groaned deep down in his throat, his eyes closing as a deep flush stained his cheekbones. Pleased with the reaction she drew from him and the answering pull she felt in her own body, she moved again. He opened his eyes and looked at her intently for a moment, as if trying to make up his mind.
Then he kissed her.
Though they had kissed before, this time was different. Now they were betrothed. There was no shame, no fear.
At first his lips were light and caressing, feathering over hers, his tongue coming out to tease her before retreating again. Rose delighted in this new side of kissing. Relaxing into him on a sigh, she dared to mimic him, teasing him with her own demanding kisses.
But though the kiss started out light and playful, soon she was restless for more. Kissing him back without reservation, she molded her body to his, wanting to be closer and closer still. Cradled in his arms, she felt his need match hers, felt the power he held in check.
In the back of her mind she knew that one of them must pull back, and yet she could no more do so than she could will her heart to stop beating. His mouth skimmed over her throat, his hand covered her breast. Rose’s breath caught and she froze as he caressed her nipple with his thumb, his eyes intent on her.
Fire shot through her veins until she was saturated with desire, undone by her craving for him. His hard chest pressed against her tender breasts, the roughness of his jaw abraded her neck with delicious friction as he kissed his way down her throat until she throbbed at the juncture of her thighs. Her fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth again devoured her, his hands restless on her back and hips.
From down the hall she heard Vivian and Edward talking and slowly came to her senses. With a low cry she struggled off of him, desperately trying to right her hair and clothing.
Luke smiled tenderly at her and smoothed her hair away from her face. Leaning down, he picked a pin up off of the floor and deftly secured a wayward lock. Somehow that gesture was as intimate as the kisses they’d shared, and she trembled anew at the decision she’d made.
Regaining her composure as Edward and Vivian continued past the parlor and up the stairs, Rose allowed Luke to pull her close. There they sat side by side as her heartbeat gradually returned to normal. Too soon Luke sighed and sat forward, taking her hand in his.
“I’m afraid I must be off, much as I’d rather stay here with you. May I take you to a play tomorrow night?”
“That would be lovely.”
“Excellent. I’ll come for you at seven o’clock.”
Edward was there to see him out, and he and Rose stood at the door, watching as Luke rode away. Edward turned to her with what seemed a knowing look but said nothing, only gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“All right, my dear?” he asked.
“All is right,” she answered with a smile, fervently hoping all would indeed be right, someday.
***
Leaving Rose, Luke stopped at the shop of the most sought-after dressmaker in Boston, as he didn’t intend for Rose to worry for one moment about her clothes. The seamstress raised not an eyebrow when he requested an entire wardrobe be created for his fiancée, from morning dresses to riding habits to ball gowns. After being assured she would get Rose’s measurements straight away, Luke stopped next at the jeweler’s.
Only after he was done there did he stop for supper at his club, so it was late evening when he returned to Cider Hill. He found his father reading in the library.
Too nervous to sit down, he roamed about the library, studying the titles without really seeing them.
“Is there something you need, Luke?” his father asked.
“I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just come out with it.” He paused a moment. “Rose and I are to be married.”
Jonas stared at him.
“Do you mean to say you’re marrying the maid Charlotte dismissed yesterday?” his father asked, incredulous.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’ve asked for her hand today and it was agreed we’d marry in a month’s time.”
“I see,” Jonas said with admirable calm. “Would you care to explain how this came to pass? And what am I to make of the accusations against her?”
Luke scowled, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he paced a few steps away.
“Whatever Charlotte’s complaints, they weren’t of Rose’s making. The blame can be laid squarely on myself and Nathan. I don’t imagine she told you that Nathan attacked Rose while I was away, and yet Rose was blamed for attracting his attention. He attacked her again in the carriage last night. I don’t like to think what would have happened had I not come upon them in time.”
Jonas took this in, his expression grave and resigned.
“I hate to think she endured such treatment under my roof, but of course I believe you. What Nathan did was unforgiveable, and I’ll have to give some thought as to what to do about it. But I’m troubled that you had some kind of relationship with Rose while she worked under my roof. You know very well my feelings on that subject.”
Luke made himself look his father in the eye, though he was mildly ashamed on this point. Certainly his actions were not above reproach.
“I didn’t dishonor her,” he replied. “In any case, my intentions now are nothing but honorable.”
Jonas looked thoughtfully at Luke and at last gave a nod.
“If this is what you want then you have my blessing. You’ll understand if I feel far from enthusiastic at present. However, as you care for her, I will do all I can to make her feel welcome.”
Luke didn’t realize how much his father’s blessing meant to him until that moment. Relief flooded through him.
“I know this won’t be easy for you. The last thing I want is for this to cause a rift between you and Charlotte.”
“No doubt Charlotte will find this difficult to swallow, but I’ll deal with her myself.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking suddenly weary. “It hasn’t escaped my attention that
the two of you have never cared much for each other. You needn't deny it,” he said as Luke tried to cut in. “I care for Charlotte, but I’m aware of her shortcomings. Perhaps I ought to have done more to ease the tensions between you, but it's not in my nature to intervene in such matters. Now the least I can do is show my support, and insist that Charlotte do the same.”
“I’m afraid I can’t imagine her welcoming Rose into the family. It would be a lot to ask even in less trying circumstances. But I won’t let anyone hurt Rose. I told her I'd take care of her and I mean to keep that promise.”
“The people in this town won’t be as easily persuaded as I. Are you prepared for that? Is she?”
“I'm marrying her regardless.”
His father studied him for a long moment before nodding to himself. “You're in love with her.”
Luke started to speak but then stopped, unsure what he meant to say.
In love with Rose?
Certainly he cared about her. He wanted to keep her safe and make her happy. And God knew he wanted her in his bed as often and for as long as possible. But that had nothing to do with love. He’d sworn never to fall in love again and he had no intention of changing his mind. After all, he’d once loved Catherine and his feelings for her had bled away to nothing but regret.
“I don’t know what to call it, I only know I’ve thought of little else since I met her, and I won’t lose her.”
Jonas nodded his head and smiled as if at a fond memory.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter what you call it, if that’s how you feel.”
“I am sorry for whatever trouble this causes you. If there’s anything I can do…”
“I believe you’ve done quite enough.”
Luke turned at the sound of Charlotte’s voice. She stood in the doorway, her face set, her mouth grim. Luke regarded her warily.
“You have some nerve coming to this house with such revolting news,” she said, her eyes blazing with unconcealed fury.
“Charlotte,” Jonas began, a note of warning in his voice, “as my son, Luke will always be welcome in our house.”
Charlotte’s face whitened at being chastised in front of her stepson. Her hands clenched at her sides, and she stood there, momentarily speechless. Much as Luke would have liked to give her a piece of his mind, he was determined to try to salvage things for his father’s sake.
“I’m sure this comes as a shock, Charlotte. Perhaps we ought not to discuss it until everyone’s had time to think things through,” Luke replied, trying to be civil for his father’s sake. “Things are not always as they seem.”
“Of all the…” she began, but just then Nathan sauntered into the room. He stopped cold when he saw Luke and instinctively took a step back.
Luke’s carefully controlled temper was in danger of erupting at the sight of him.
“Quite the little tableau,” Nathan sneered, evidently feeling safe in the company of Jonas and his mother. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“We’re discussing Luke’s engagement,” Jonas replied, in what struck Luke as a carefully neutral tone.
“What are you talking about?”
“He would have us believe he’s marrying the very maid I was forced to turn out yesterday.”
Nathan turned to Luke, his face contorted in rage and disbelief. “That’s not possible. She’s leading you on as she did me. Trollops like her will do anything—”
In one clean punch Luke knocked Nathan to the floor. Blood smeared Nathan’s face as he stared up at Luke, momentarily speechless with shock and rage.
Luke stood over him, knowing he’d made things worse and yet not sorry for it. “If I ever hear you speak of her that way again, I’ll do much worse.”
Luke was so furious, he wanted to lift Nathan back up and knock him down again, but the worthless wretch lay where he was, looking pitiful. Charlotte crouched down beside him and held her handkerchief to his lip to stem the blood. She looked up at Luke, her eyes cold and unforgiving. Then her gaze shifted to Jonas.
“Do you see this? Will you still defend your precious son?”
“Nathan brought this on himself. I have a thing or two to say about his recent behavior, but that can wait.”
Reaching down, Jonas grabbed Nathan’s arm and pulled him to his feet.
“I expect you to take this like a man, and I suggest you start by riding home and sobering up. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need a word with Luke.”
Luke followed his father out of the library and upstairs to his study. Silently, his father poured them each a whiskey and together they stood at the big bay window and looked out over the gardens. Even lit by the waning moon it was breathtaking scenery. Once upon a time his mother used to hold impromptu little picnics out in the garden. Even now he couldn’t look upon that rich expanse without bittersweet memories of those days.
“I’m damned sorry about this,” he said, turning to his father. “I’d hoped it would be different.”
“Charlotte is my worry. As for Nathan…I confess I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He wasn’t always like this.
“Whatever the reason, I don’t think recent events will improve him.”
“No, I don’t suppose they will,” Jonas agreed.
***
Rose was looking despairingly at the two dresses laid out on her bed when Vivian came in and stood by her side.
“What exactly are we waiting for?” she teased.
“I was hoping that they would turn into something I can actually wear out in public,” Rose replied, near tears at the sorry state of her wardrobe. “What on earth am I to wear to the play tonight? I can’t possibly be seen in any of these.”
“Well, that’s one thing you shan’t have to worry about any longer. I daresay Mr. Fletcher will make sure you have the finest wardrobe in Boston.”
“I suppose he will,” Rose said, unable to take it all in. She didn’t know what sort of wealth her fiancé had, but it was most likely enough to keep them both quite comfortable.
“I have an idea,” Vivian exclaimed. “You can wear something of mine. We can let out the hem and sew ribbons and lace until it’s as good as new.”
Rose hated feeling sorry for herself, especially over something so inconsequential, but she was terrified of going out with Luke and didn’t want to be an embarrassment to herself or him. Even so, she was not so small-minded that she would alter one of her friend’s dresses just to satisfy her own vanity.
The door chimes sounded and a moment later Sally came into the room.
“There’s a dressmaker here to see you, Rose. She says she’s here to take your measurements.”
Rose gaped at her in surprise. “There must be some mistake. I haven’t arranged any such thing.”
“I have an idea who did,” Vivian said, smiling at her. “Let us go and see what she has to say.”
A perfectly turned-out woman of perhaps five and forty sat, her back ramrod straight and hands clasped in her lap, not quite patiently waiting in the parlor. With her was an assistant, a young lady about Rose’s age who sat meekly beside her. The dressmaker stood as the girls entered.
“Which one of you is Miss Stratton?”
“I am, but there’s been a mistake.”
“There has been no mistake,” she said, her French origins unmistakable. “I am Madame Beauchamp and Mr. Luke Fletcher engaged my services. He has ordered for you as many new dresses and accessories as I deem necessary.”
“But I can’t possibly let him,” Rose exclaimed.
“Of course you can,” the dressmaker replied dismissively. “Now then, how many dresses have you at present?”
Rose was thoroughly cowed. “Three.”
Madame Beauchamp did not blink.
“Well then,” she replied briskly. “It’s fortunate my services have been engaged.”
Over the next hour Rose was measured within an inch of her life while simultaneously questioned at length about her likes and dislikes, in fashion as well
as in her daily activities. Madame Beauchamp caught Rose glancing with confusion at Vivian after another of these questions.
“I create dresses that suit each particular woman. Therefore, I must become acquainted with you.”
She had brought with her samples of silks, taffetas, muslins and wools in pastels, neutral colors and deep jewel tones. Rose stood still while Madame selected one after another and held them up to her, furrowing her brow in concentration. Every so often she muttered to herself as her assistant took notes.
“Yes, this one we must have for a ball gown,” or “Absolutely not, it will make you look sallow.”
Before she left, she turned to Rose.
“I have a dress that would suit you much better than the silly girl I made it for. I will alter it and have it dropped off before your play this evening.”
Rose couldn’t believe her good fortune. Inexplicably her eyes filled with tears. Madame Beauchamp looked at her and shook her head.
“Mademoiselle, you must get used to such gifts. You are marrying a man who is very generous with his money. It won’t do to cry every time he gives you something.”
With this the dressmaker took her leave, her assistant trailing behind.
Rose and Vivian looked at each other, eyes wide with sudden mirth.
“Well, it seems as if your prayers were answered,” commented Vivian. “Have you wished for anything else?”
“A great many things, Vivian,” Rose replied. “Though I cannot expect Mr. Fletcher to grant them all.”
Chapter Ten
Rose stood in front of the mirror that evening, unable to believe what she saw. Madame Beauchamp had outdone herself. The gold silk dress she had brought earlier that evening complemented her coloring, and its drape and flares showed off her curves in a way that both pleased and embarrassed her.
Never before had she worn a dress that revealed her shoulders, and she couldn’t help feeling it was improper. The sleeves, which ended at her elbow, were garnished with a fall of lace and ribbon. The skirt was full, the silk whispering when she moved. Madame Beauchamp had even delivered a pair of dyed kid slippers and gloves to complete the ensemble. She hardly recognized the woman in the mirror.
