A Rose at Midnight

by Jacqueline Navin

  Caroline’s eyes rounded and shot to Magnus. He merely grinned back at her and purred, “Yes, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, heavens, you poor ducky, you’ve gone all pink. Well, of course she has, my lord, when an old woman rattles on at her, don’t ya know. All right, I’ll get back to my puddings. I hope you’re hungry, miss. I’m whipping up a rack of lamb.”

  “For luncheon?” Caroline asked, her voice almost a whisper, having not yet recovered from her former shock at hearing how she and the earl were so enamored of each other.

  Magnus beamed at the older woman. “Mrs. Bronson is a wonderful cook. She loves to spoil me.”

  “Ah, be gone with ya.” Mrs. Bronson blushed, shooing them out of the kitchen. She could be heard fussing to the scullery maids as they headed down the corridor.

  “My lord?”

  “Magnus.”

  She paused. “Pardon me?”

  “Please call me Magnus. It is unseemly for you to be referring to me as ‘my lord’ all the time.”

  “Yes, well,” she stammered. “I-I shall call you. Magnus.”

  She was unsure of herself, a new facet to her he had not glimpsed before, and he enjoyed the girlish way her teeth worried at her bottom lip.

  “I wish you had informed me you planned to put out the story that we were.ah.”

  “In love,” he supplied.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “My dear Miss Wembly—or may I call you Caroline? I think it would be best. Caroline, why else would we wish to marry in such a hurry if not for the sheer impatience of true love?”

  The dripping sarcasm in his tone caused her to flinch, and in an instant of pure understanding he knew this was a woman who had always thought to marry for that most tender of emotions. Love. Magnus was not certain if he even believed it existed. It hardly mattered, having no relevance in his life. There was duty, there was need, there was pleasure. Love was not a part of any of it.

  “I see,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I am not criticizing. I only wish you had told me. I was caught unawares.”

  “You are correct, of course. You should have been prepared. I apologize.”

  She seemed relieved, and even slightly amused. “Tell me, my lord—” She stopped. “Magnus,” she corrected with determination, “where did we meet?”

  He laughed. “Don’t you recall? A mutual friend of ours in London presented us to one another at a small gathering.”

  They ascended the grand staircase, Magnus pointing out various paintings and describing the painter, the subject, and the manner in which each was either obtained or commissioned. It was all too much for Caroline to take in, and she told him so.

  “You are not expected to learn it at once, but I should like you to try to remember as much as you can. When the child is born, he shall wish to know these things.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I will not bother to show all the guest rooms. Your rooms, however, you must be anxious to see. Here we are.”

  He swung open the double doors. They entered into a sitting room, elegant, plush, exquisitely furnished in shades of yellow and rose. “Beyond there is the bedroom, and a large dressing room which connects to my apartments. There is a water closet through there.”

  She was openly gaping, which satisfied Magnus. For himself, he was having a difficult time acclimating himself to his surroundings. He hadn’t been in this part of the house in years. Since his mother’s death. And he had lied to Caroline. His rooms were not through the connecting dressing door. He had never taken his father’s place in the master’s chamber, but he would have to now, as was fitting. What an irony that it was only in death he found himself worthy to do so.

  He had had the room redecorated when he had first decided to take a wife, so everything, from the plush carpet to the silk draperies to the last embroidered pillow, was new. As Caroline walked about, studying this aspect or that, he waited. At last, she swung toward him, almost knocking him senseless with another of her smiles. “It is beautiful, my lord.”

  He felt his heart do something queer in his chest. “Magnus,” he corrected, his voice almost a croak. He cleared his throat.

  “Yes, I am sorry. Magnus.”

  He caught himself staring and said roughly, “Come. All Mrs. Bronson’s talk of lamb has stoked my appetite. You will want to see the nursery before we go.”

  “Yes, yes of course,” she said, and for the first time, Magnus saw the spark of excitement in her eye. As she passed him, he caught her scent, a gentle hint of rose water mingled with musk. His body tightened slightly, and he smiled as they continued the tour.

  Chapter Four

  The formal dining hall was set with leaded crystal, Limoges china, crisp linen and brilliantly polished silverware. Caroline was a bit astonished at all this fuss just for luncheon. As soon as the thought registered, she chided herself. Really, she must stop acting like an awestruck child every time the earl’s wealth showed. She hoped it was not obvious, and endeavored to appear relaxed and comfortable as Arthur pulled out her chair and placed her napkin on her lap.

  “The weather is quite cool,” the earl said. His rich baritone carried over the length of the table. He was seated at the opposite end, gazing at her in that way he favored, with his fingers laced at his lips as if studying an intriguing specimen.

  “Yes, rather,” she agreed. They were served soup, and a piping hot loaf of bread was placed on her plate along with a cup of sweet butter. Her mouth watered. This alone was a meal to her—more than enough by the standards she had grown used to in the lean years since her father’s death.

  The earl said, “Unseasonably cool.”

  “Winter is not far off,” she replied, picking up her spoon.

  When the majordomo had gone, she heard a low chuckle. “Now that we are clear on the state of the clime, and—not incidentally—alone, perhaps we can discuss matters of some consequence.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  He paused, frowning. Caroline stared back at him, puzzled, until she realized what was the matter. “Pardon me. Magnus.”

  “Much better. You know, it sounds quite nice coming from you. Your voice is husky, as if you have a sore throat.”

  “I am in excellent health,” she assured him.

  His eyes danced. “Yes, I know, Caroline. Anyone can see that.”

  He was mocking her again, and she lowered her gaze to her bowl. As she ate, she heard the clatter of china and looked up to find him gathering his place setting. To her amazement, he carried his bowl and plate down to the seat on her right, returned for the other items, then settled himself at his new place.

  “Much cozier, don’t you think?”

  “Certainly.” She concentrated on her meal. “You were correct about Mrs. Bronson’s cooking. This is delicious.”

  “Good. Now, as I was saying, there are certain matters I wish to discuss with you, namely the wedding.”

  She stiffened. Was he reconsidering his decision? “What about the wedding?”

  His shrewd eyes narrowed. “I merely meant the details, Caroline. We must limit it to a small gathering, as there is no time to invite guests nor prepare for a gala celebration. However, I have determined it should be an occasion of note and you will be properly outfitted—” He cut off as the servants came in to collect the dishes and lay out the second course. The earl’s changed seat caused some dismay, which he ignored. When the food was in place, the servers filed out, leaving them once again to themselves.

  “As I was saying, I will have some sketches sent to you, and some scraps of material so you can choose a proper wedding dress. You and your mother can take care of the gown and all the other various and sundry accessories. Also, you must choose the flowers. I shall take care of arranging the ceremony and a small reception here at the house. Just your family, the parson and a few of those who live close by should suffice. And David, of course.”

  “David? Oh, your brother.”

  “Yes,” he said, glanci
ng at the clock on the sideboard. “I wonder where he is. Ah well, I shall tell you more tales of my ancestors. Boring, I know, but necessary for you to learn. Now, there was the first earl, my great-great. I cannot recall just how many greats, and in fact he was not at all great from the stories that have survived him, but my grandfather just the same.”

  Caroline found herself smiling. She was surprised to observe he possessed a certain charm, and she had to admit she found him more than passably engaging.

  The meal was delicious. Though comfortably sated, she found she could not forego the lamb. It was spectacular, seasoned to perfection and complemented with the subtle taste of mint.

  The earl continued to relate stories of his family in his quirky, almost self-deprecating way, then switched to outline his plans for her installment as his wife. He seemed to have thought of every detail. It was quite overwhelming and she was glad to let him take the lead, carefully nodding in agreement while her mind wandered.

  She still had to marvel at the miracle of it all. The earl had chosen her. And the best of it was that he had agreed to allow her mother—and James—to stay at the Barrister’s Ordinary where they would be close by. Why, she could visit every day!

  “Caroline?”

  She was suddenly aware he was addressing her. “What? Oh, yes, my lord. Magnus. I am sorry, I am afraid I became a little lost.”

  Emerald eyes raked over her. “I suppose it is a great deal to take in at once.”

  “No, it is not that. I—I simply was—”

  “Nonsense, Caroline, there is no need to explain. It is my terrible sense of urgency, which cannot be helped. It must cause much confusion. I shall have my secretary draw up a schedule and deliver it to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  After coffee and dessert, which was a thick slab of butter cake soaked in heavy cream and topped with fresh berries, Magnus offered to show Caroline the gardens.

  “I don’t know if I can move. I am afraid I am quite full,” she said as he drew out her chair for her.

  “Then a bit of exercise should. be just the thing.”.

  They walked through the library to the glass doors. Arthur brought in her cloak and Magnus drew it around her, the fleeting brush of his fingers on her shoulder sending a shiver coursing down her spine.

  “Chilled already?” he inquired.

  Did nothing escape his notice?

  “Fleetingly.” She gave him a smile. “I shall be fine.”

  “Splendid.” He led her out into the flagstone porch. A soft breeze played among the turning leaves. It was only September, and although cool, the bright kiss of the sun lent a lingering memory of summer as they walked across the well-tended lawn and into the formal garden.

  He pointed out the different flora, displaying acute pride in the tranquil place. From time to time he would stop to finger a wilted flower or faltering perennial. He seemed most enthusiastic about the plethora of rosebushes, blowzy things with their sagging blooms and naked branches, saying how lovely they were in the spring. It was the sadness in his voice—just a trace—which caught her attention, and Caroline was struck with the realization that he would never see them bloom again.

  And suddenly her delight in her fantastic good fortune faded. Angling a covert glance at him, she felt a pang of stark regret. He seemed so invincible, strong and handsome, profiled against the azure of the sky as he surveyed his beloved garden. Noble, mysterious, and today he had shown he could be charming. Dangerous, too, she reminded herself. This was no weeping philosopher. This was the infamous Earl of Rutherford. Yet, in this moment, she had never seen a person look so vulnerable.

  Then he turned and the moment was gone. His green eyes caught hers, perhaps read the sympathetic look, and he said, “All this will be yours shortly. Not bad for a few months’ work, eh?”

  She was saved from having to make a reply to that outrageous statement by the call of a new voice. “Halloo!”

  Caroline turned around to find a lanky young man coming toward them. He waved. She felt the possessive grasp of Magnus’s fingers at her elbow and his low voice whispered in her ear. “David.” Her flesh tingled as she tried to suppress the shudder caused by his caressing breath.

  “So this is the delightful Miss Caroline Wembly of whom I have heard so much good,” David said as he drew up to them. Caroline noted his boyish good looks, ready grin, and lean, graceful form. She mentally compared him with his elder brother, seeing a resemblance, but the differences were far more striking. Where Magnus was broad and tall, this man was rather rangy and elegant, almost dandified. His dark hair was not as lustrous as the earl’s, and his eyes were an ordinary brown. On the whole, he appeared to be a thinner, more amicable and somewhat lesser version of his commanding brother.

  “I am pleased to meet you,” Caroline murmured. David bowed. When he straightened, he took her hand in his. “Who would have thought old Caractacus Green could do such a marvelous thing as find you?” He swung toward the earl. “I apologize for not being here for luncheon, Magnus. I set out later than I had planned.”

  “Mrs. Bronson was disappointed. She cooked enough for an army.”

  “I shall ask her to fix something for me later. And I will not be able to stay but overnight.” Turning back to Caroline, he smiled. “Not to worry, sister-to-be, I will be on hand for the wedding.”

  They began to walk back toward the house. “I have been meaning to ask you about Mr. Green,” Magnus said. “Chiefly, I am wondering why you chose such a disagreeable old coot for this job.”

  “You did not get on well with Caractacus?” David gasped in mock horror. “I chose him for his agreeable nature, of course.” Caroline stifled a giggle as they entered the house. She liked this man, with his easy wit and bedeviling manner. Yet something about his good humor gave her the impression he was trying too hard. To impress her, or ingratiate himself with his dour brother? Caroline wondered. Or perhaps, she silently amended, it was the forced cheerfulness people sometimes used to patronize the ill. Goodness knew she was guilty of the same with her own brother.

  David crossed the library to fling himself onto one of the leather chairs. “I thought the two of you might have a small conflict of wills. Bossy fellow, isn’t he? But he fills two very important qualifications which you specifically asked for. One, he is not in our usual circle, and therefore unlikely to have any clients who might know you.” Looking to Caroline, he explained, “Discretion is a valuable asset in a solicitor, but not always a realistic one.”

  “What was the second qualification?” Caroline asked.

  “He was willing to do the job.”

  Magnus scowled. Turning his back to them, he walked to the large window as David broke into peals of laughter. Awkwardly, Caroline shifted her gaze between the two. Magnus grumbled, “His fees are outrageous. For a solicitor not in fashion with society, he has an awfully high opinion of himself.”

  “Oh, Magnus,” David said when he had sobered, “Lady Sarah Gleason has told me to send her regards, as well as her wishes for a speedy recovery. She was distressed when she heard you were ill.”

  Magnus merely grunted, apparently unimpressed with. Lady Sarah’s concern. David continued, “And Carstairs was asking after you. Did I tell you about the railroad he has invested in? Made him a fortune.” As David launched into a report on the latest London gossip, Caroline relaxed. For the first time since she had come to Hawking Park, she was free of the earl’s intense and undivided scrutiny. Indulging her curiosity, she studied her future husband.

  He was standing perfectly still, looking out of the window. Since their walk, he had been pensive. She sensed him withdrawing into himself as if beset by a deep melancholy. Yet there also was an edge to him, hinting at a keen, biting rage just below the surface.

  How difficult it must be for such a man to lean on others. Even his brother, with his lighthearted manner, did not understand this. Magnus Eddington was proud to a fault. It was something Caroline could understand. And identify wi
th. When the bottom had fallen out of her world, she had carried on with nothing but stubborn determination to get her through.

  He looked over just then, and caught her staring. His face was, for once, blank and open. Unreadable. She wondered what he was thinking.

  David was still talking about their society acquaintances when Magnus cut in. “Miss Wembly wishes to return to the Barrister’s Ordinary.”

  David stopped in midsentence. “Oh. Of course. Do you want me to take her there?”

  “No need. She is quite accustomed to my phaeton.”

  David shrugged. “Surely she would prefer companionship for the ride.”

  “It is only a half hour to the village,” Magnus countered.

  “Even so, she may enjoy it better—”

  “Gentlemen!” Caroline cut in. “Miss Wembly is standing right here, and is not an incompetent. Therefore, your disagreement over my preferences can be easily resolved simply by asking me. Yes, I am quite used to the ride and do not mind taking it alone, but I would welcome company if you are so disposed, Mr. Eddington.”

  “Excellent,” David declared, jumping to his feet. “It shall give me the opportunity to tell you all the stories of my brother any future bride of his is in need of knowing.”

  “That was what I feared,” Magnus mumbled. “Very well, David. Send Billy to fetch the phaeton.”

  David gave a short bow and exited, presumably to find Billy.

  Magnus came to Caroline’s side. “I shall arrange to have the items we discussed sent to the Ordinary. Also, I will have my man come round to make arrangements as to the flowers. If you need anything else, simply send me a message and I will see to it. I will be in the village later on this week, so I expect to visit you then.”

  She nodded, still a bit put out with the detached way he and his brother had discussed her. What did she expect, when she was merely an employee of sorts—a wife-for-hire?