Anne Herries

by Rosalynand the Scoundrel

Alone in her own room, Rosalyn took the pins from her hair and brushed it, letting it hang loose on her shoulders. She packed a few possessions while she waited for time to pass; some of her clothes could perhaps be sent on later. Many of them would not be suitable for her new life. She had decided she would take only a few of her newest garments, and her personal treasures, things given her by her parents: her mother’s jewellery and items she had kept for various reasons.

  She went to the drawer where she had kept her father’s pistols. One of them was missing. She stared at the empty aperture in the box—surely she had replaced the weapon after using it to drive off the men who had attacked Jared? Yes, she was sure it was missing—and the box containing the balls used as ammunition was almost empty. When she last used it, it had been half-full.

  A cold chill ran down Rosalyn’s spine. Where had the pistol gone? Someone had taken it—could it have been Freddie? Or someone else? Had the pistol been used to kill Bernard Harrington?

  That thought made her feel slightly sick, and she could not wait to unburden her thoughts to the only person she could tell of her suspicions.

  It must be time, surely? If Damian was coming, he would be here by now. Rosalyn picked up a branch of candles and looked out of her door to make sure she was unobserved. There was no reason why she should not meet Damian, yet even now she would do nothing to disoblige her brother if she could help it.

  She went down to her parlour, unlocked the French windows and slipped out. The moon was bright, its silver light giving the garden an air of romance and mystery. Was Damian here? Was he back yet? Her heart beat faster in the hope of seeing him, but though she called softly and waited for nearly an hour, there was no sign of him.

  ‘Oh, Damian, where are you? I need you. I need to talk to you, to hold you. I need you so very much…’

  Rosalyn sighed her disappointment and went back inside. Perhaps he would come tomorrow.

  The morning of the wedding was fine and warm. Beatrice looked as beautiful as everyone expected, her face alight with happiness as she walked down the aisle to stand beside Freddie and take her vows.

  Rosalyn watched her. She surreptitiously wiped away a tear, smiling as she saw her aunt doing the same thing.

  ‘I do hope she will be happy,’ Aunt Susan whispered. ‘Do you not think Sarah Jane looks very grown up, my dear?’

  Rosalyn nodded. She suddenly found she could not speak, because as she turned to watch the newly-wed couple leaving the church, she saw that a man was standing at the very back. He had taken his place behind a pillar so as not to be seen too clearly, but Rosalyn knew him at once and her heart began to race wildly.

  Damian was back! He was back. It took all her resolution not to go to him at once. As she followed her aunt and the other guests out into the sunshine and the peal of joyful bells, Rosalyn saw that Damian had moved away to a far corner of the churchyard and was watching her. She smiled and moved as if to go to him, but he shook his head and mouthed the word ‘later’ to her. She nodded, her spirits soaring. Damian was right. She had waited this long, she could wait a little longer.

  Yet it was so difficult to keep a smile on her face, to listen to all the chatter and laughing jests made by the guests at her brother’s expense, when she wanted to put all this behind her and go to her lover.

  At last they were back at the house, and the reception was under way. The table in the dining room had been set out with all manner of delicious trifles. Monsieur Maurice had surpassed himself, Rosalyn thought as she moved amongst the guests, making polite conversation.

  ‘And when shall we have the pleasure of your company in town again, Miss Eastleigh?’

  ‘I do not know, Mr Carlton,’ she replied. ‘I have no plans to return for the moment.’

  ‘That is a pity. I had hoped to see you there this season.’

  Rosalyn smiled and shook her head, moving on to various guests. She was sure Damian would be waiting for her in the garden. Dare she slip away to meet him for a few minutes? Why not? She had done her duty. No one would miss her. There were plenty of others to entertain Freddie’s guests.

  She made her way unhurriedly through the crowded rooms, leaving by the French windows of her parlour. There was no sign of Damian. He would not risk being seen, of course, but as she hurried across the lawn to the shrubbery, he came out and caught her in his arms. Her heart leaped as he held her close, gazing down at her hungrily.

  ‘You came,’ he said, bending his head to kiss her on the mouth. ‘I was not sure you would manage it until this evening—but I could not stay away. I have been longing for you, my darling.’

  ‘And I for you,’ she said, pressing herself against him, surrendering her mouth to his as the heady desire swept over her. ‘I have everything ready. I can leave as soon as Freddie and Beatrice have gone—’ She stopped as she saw the way his eyes were looking at something behind her. ‘What…?’ Swinging round, she saw her brother striding towards them, his face tight with anger.

  ‘I thought I should find you with him,’ Freddie said coldly. ‘Are you so mad for him that you care nothing for your reputation, Ros? If what people say of you matters not to you, then at least have a thought for my wife’s good name.’

  ‘Freddie!’ Rosalyn felt as if he had slapped her. This was so unfair. She had done all she could to make things easier for him—and now he had so unjustly accused her of thinking only of herself. ‘No one has seen us. Besides, we shall be leaving soon. You are married now—what can it matter if someone does see us?’

  ‘It matters to me if my sister is seen embracing a murderer.’

  ‘Freddie!’ she cried, dismayed. ‘How can you say such things?’

  ‘What is this?’ Damian’s eyes narrowed. ‘You are not speaking of the duel, Eastleigh? Damn it, you cannot believe I was responsible for Bernard Harrington’s murder?’

  ‘So you do not deny it was murder?’ Freddie glared at him. ‘I was prepared to accept the situation between you and my sister as things stood—a duel is not murder—but this changes everything.’

  ‘I give you my word I had nothing to do with this,’ Damian said, eyes cold, proud. He was very still, watchful. He glanced at Rosalyn. ‘Do you believe me?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said quickly. ‘I know you did not do it, Damian.’

  ‘You are being foolish,’ Freddie said glaring at her. ‘You have only his word that he did not shoot Harrington. How can you marry him, knowing he may be a murderer?’

  ‘I would marry him whatever he had done,’ Rosalyn said quietly. Her back was very straight, her manner calm and dignified. ‘Damian loves me—that is something you have never done, Freddie. You are not my legal guardian. I can marry whom I choose.’ She lifted her candid eyes to meet those of the man she loved. ‘I am going to fetch my things now, Damian. Please wait for me. Everything I want is packed. It will take me only a few minutes to fetch them.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

  ‘Quite sure. Please be here when I return.’

  ‘If you leave with him now, I’ve finished with you,’ Freddie said, lips white with fury. ‘You can never come back. I shall forbid Beatrice to speak to you ever again.’

  Rosalyn lifted her head, her face pale. She was tense but determined. ‘I shall not wish to return,’ she said with painful dignity. ‘This is no longer my home—and you are no longer my brother.’

  She walked away, refusing to glance back even when her brother called to her. How dare he? How dare he say such things to her—to Damian? She would never, never forgive him.

  As she disappeared into the house, Freddie turned on Damian in fury.

  ‘Do you know what you’ve done?’ he demanded. ‘You’ve ruined her. You may think you can get away with murder, Wrexham—but people will talk, they will believe you killed Harrington. Some of them will think in private that you’ve done the world a service, but in public they will refuse to know you. You will be tainted—and so will Rosalyn. You have dragged her down to your level
—I hope you are satisfied?’

  Damian curled his fists at his sides, willing himself to control his temper. If he struck Rosalyn’s brother in anger the breach would never be healed—and that would hurt her. She was angry with Freddie now, but perhaps in the future she would begin to miss him, to miss all her family. He must not do anything which might make it impossible for her to return to her home one day.

  ‘If you were not her brother, I would call you out for that,’ Damian said. ‘If you ever do anything to hurt her in the future I shall take a horsewhip to you. Say what you like to me—but never hurt her like that again.’

  ‘Damn you!’ Freddie yelled. He lunged at Damian, throwing a wild punch and missing. As he came at him again, Damian’s fist connected with his chin, sending him down. He sprang up again, angry and ashamed. ‘You devil…I’ll teach you.’

  ‘You had best take yourself back to your bride before I make it impossible for you to play your part on your wedding night,’ Damian said. ‘Think yourself lucky I do not thrash you as you deserve. One day I have no doubt you will come to your senses, and you may wish to apologise to Rosalyn—’

  ‘Never!’ Freddie yelled, beside himself with anger. ‘She has made her bed—and she can damned well lie on it.’

  He turned and began to stride across the lawn, disappearing into the house without looking back.

  Upstairs in her room, Rosalyn took a last glance around her, then picked up the two cloak bags she had packed herself. She had her father’s pearls and a ring that had been her mother’s, that was all she really wanted—and enough clothes to take her as far as France. She could buy anything she needed there; at least Freddie could not control her money, her father had seen to that.

  She was about to leave when her aunt came in. Mrs Buckley saw her white face and the bags and took in the situation immediately.

  ‘Freddie is in a terrible mood,’ she said. ‘Have you quarrelled with him again?’

  ‘He forbade me to go with Damian—but I cannot obey him, Aunt. He says that he has finished with me, that he will forbid the family to acknowledge me—but I do not care. Nothing can stop me leaving. I must go with Damian. I love him.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ her aunt said. She moved to embrace Rosalyn. ‘You have my blessing, my dear—and if you ever need a home I shall always be happy to receive you.’

  ‘Thank you—’ Rosalyn broke off as Maria came rushing into the room, her face white.

  ‘You were not going without saying goodbye?’

  ‘No, I was going to ask my aunt to tell you to meet me in the garden,’ Rosalyn said and went to embrace her. Maria was crying. ‘Forgive me. I cannot stay for your wedding, my dearest cousin—but I shall write to you as soon as we are settled.’

  ‘You will visit sometimes?’

  ‘Yes—if we can,’ Rosalyn promised. She looked from Maria to her aunt. ‘I am sorry, I must go. Damian is waiting.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Mrs Buckley said. ‘Would you let me come with you, Rosalyn? I should like to meet him—to tell him that he has my blessing.’

  ‘And mine,’ Maria said. ‘I do not care what Freddie thinks. He has behaved very badly towards you, and I shall tell him so.’

  ‘Yes, come with me,’ Rosalyn said. ‘I should like Damian to know that not all my family are against him.’

  She went ahead of her friends, her emotions in turmoil. Would Damian be waiting? Surely he would not leave without her? Please God, let him not have taken Freddie’s rudeness too much to heart!

  She saw him standing where she had left him. Sarah Jane was with him, laughing at something he had said to her. The girl turned as they approached.

  ‘I have been giving Mr Wrexham a message for Jared,’ she said. ‘I shall go in now, Rosalyn. Beatrice will be wondering where I am.’ She came to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I shall never forget how kind you have been to me—and I hope we shall meet again one day.’

  ‘I am sure we shall,’ Rosalyn said. She turned to Damian as the girl ran off. ‘My aunt—Mrs Susan Buckley—wanted to meet you. And Maria would like to say goodbye.’

  ‘I could not let you go without wishing you both good luck,’ Maria said, a faint blush in her cheeks as Damian took her hand to kiss it. ‘Please take good care of Rosalyn for us. We are very fond of her—but of course I know you will.’

  ‘You will be welcome to visit us when we are settled,’ Damian assured her. ‘And perhaps one day we shall visit you.’

  Their farewells over, Damian took Rosalyn’s cloak-bags from her and slung them over his shoulder, a questioning look in his eyes.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yes. Quite ready.’

  ‘We must walk as far as the Hall. I was not expecting to leave quite this soon.’

  ‘Nor I,’ she admitted, giving him a smile that was perhaps a little too bright. ‘Do not be concerned for me, Damian. My brother has behaved badly, but we shall not allow him to upset us.’

  Was she simply putting on a brave face for his sake? Damian was not sure. They had known each other such a short time, and this was a huge step for Rosalyn to take. What had happened had perhaps been inevitable from the start. Love had flared between them almost instantly, creating a need that could not be denied—but would love be enough to compensate for all she had given up?

  He offered her his hand. ‘Come,’ he said, his strong fingers curling about hers. There could be no place for doubt or regret in their lives. ‘We should go, my love. We have a long journey before us.’

  It was dark long before they reached Dover. Rosalyn had slept for a part of the journey, her head against Damian’s shoulder.

  At first they had talked of the future, and the new life they had entered together. Damian told her about the house he had taken on the outskirts of Paris.

  ‘It is just for a week or two,’ he said. ‘I think you will like it—it is away from the bustle and noise of the city, but near enough to enjoy all the benefits. We shall go shopping together, my darling. I want to buy you lots of beautiful things.’

  ‘Why? I have the money from my trust. I can arrange for that to be paid into any account I choose. Freddie has no control over my income. You do not need to buy me things, Damian.’

  ‘Will you deny me that pleasure?’ His brows arched. ‘For years I have done nothing but accumulate wealth. Now that I have someone on whom to spend the money, may I not do so?’

  ‘Are you very rich?’ Rosalyn was surprised. She had not considered it before, taking him to be a man of modest means.

  ‘I fear so,’ he replied, a naughty glint in his eye. ‘My years in India were put to good use. Do you mind?’

  She shook her head, the hint of a smile on her lips. ‘It is not important either way. But if you wish to lavish your money on me, I must tell you I am extremely fond of good horses. It is a passion I have often wished to indulge—and I should warn you that you may find me extravagant where they are concerned.’

  ‘Horses?’ Damian laughed. ‘Then we have more in common than I knew. You shall have the very best, Rosalyn—both for your carriage and for riding.’

  She smiled but said nothing more on the subject.

  ‘How long shall we be in Paris?’

  ‘Long enough to be married,’ he said, taking her hand in his. ‘Jared has gone down to a secret location in the country and we shall join him there in a week or so—but I thought we could be married in Paris? We could of course marry before we leave England, but it would be a rushed, makeshift affair. In Paris I have friends. We could have a small reception—and you would have the chance to buy a pretty gown for the occasion.’

  ‘Then we shall wait until you can arrange it all,’ she said, looking at him curiously. ‘I did not know you had friends in Paris, Damian.’

  ‘It is only in England that I have been cast out by society,’ he replied, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. ‘Edward and Charlotte Forrester were with the British Company in India for seven years. We became close friends—and they have often
asked me to visit them at their home in Paris.’

  ‘Then I shall look forward to meeting them.’

  ‘And I know they will be delighted to meet you. Charlotte has been nagging me to marry for years, but until now I had no wish to oblige her.’

  Rosalyn laughed at the wicked look he gave her. The slight constraint, which had arisen over the suggestion that he wished to lavish her with gifts, vanished as though it had never been. She was not quite sure why she had objected; it was natural for a husband to spend money on his wife—but she did not wish to be bought. Her love had been given freely and she required only love in return.

  It was her wretched independence again! Rosalyn scolded herself mentally. She would soon be married, and must get used to the idea of being a wife.

  She had slept after a while, lulled by the comfort of the well-sprung carriage and her sense of being safe and cared for; she was vaguely aware that Damian’s arm was about her, supporting her. When she woke it was dark and the carriage was pulling into the yard of a busy inn. She could hear the sounds of ostlers shouting to one another, the clatter of wheels on cobblestones, and the hissing of flaring lanterns in their scones on the walls; then their groom opened the door and the steps were let down.

  ‘I had booked two rooms here for tomorrow evening,’ Damian said as he gave her his hand to help her from the carriage. ‘We must hope the host has accommodation for tonight. There are other inns, of course, but this is the best.’

  ‘We shall find something.’

  Rosalyn smiled as she took his arm. She was determined not to make a fuss whatever the case. Besides, this was the beginning of a great adventure. No matter what happened now, she was with the man she loved. There was no going back, no return to her old life, nor did she want there to be. Despite some natural apprehension, she felt alive in a way she never had until now.

  It was clear that the inn was extremely busy. The yard was littered with bags and trunks, several carriages having arrived almost simultaneously. Inside, in the welcoming parlour with its oak panelled walls and comfortable settles, Damian was forced to wait his turn for attention, and was eventually told that there was only one room available that night.