Debra Mullins

by Scandal of the Black Rose

  “I’m not so certain.”

  “Rome, really.” Vin rolled her eyes. “If Mr. Vaughn held the scandal against you, he would not have been willing to consider you for the position to begin with. He is a busy man. I’m certain this is all a matter of bad timing.”

  “Perhaps.” Rome tried to smile for his sister, but inside he had his doubts. Had Vaughn noticed his interest in the ring? Rome had tried to hide it, but Edgar Vaughn had not ascended to his current status by accident. The diplomat had always been known for canny intellect and keen observation.

  “Would you like me to have Henry make inquiries?” Vin glanced around for her errant husband. “He can be very discreet.”

  “Absolutely not.” He caught his sister’s stubborn gaze. “Let it go, Vin.”

  “I worry about you,” she said. “I’m certain Henry wouldn’t mind.”

  “I would mind. I’m a grown man, Vin. Save your mothering for your babe.”

  Hurt flickered across her face, and her lower lip slowly protruded in a familiar pout. “I was just trying to help.”

  “I know.” He ignored the twinge of guilt and turned gratefully as Dennis Fellhopper called his name.

  “Devereaux,” Fellhopper greeted him. “Good to see you again.”

  “Fellhopper.” Rome nodded to Charlotte. “Miss Fellhopper, charming to see you again. I believe you both know my sister, Mrs. Henry Emberly.”

  “Mrs. Emberly,” Fellhopper said with a nod. “A pleasure.”

  “Goodness, Lavinia!” Charlotte exclaimed. “It’s been an age!” Then she flushed. “I’m sorry, it’s Mrs. Emberly now, isn’t it?”

  “Vin is fine,” Lavinia said with a smile. “I understand my cousin recently visited your country home.”

  “Yes, Lord Haverford traveled to Leicestershire to assist my brother with a business matter.”

  “No doubt sheep were involved,” Rome said with a chuckle. “Marc does love the wool market.”

  “Exactly so,” Fellhopper confirmed, with a grin.

  “Oh, yes,” Charlotte chimed in with a little giggle. “Everything revolves around sheep in Leicestershire!”

  They were still laughing when Marc joined them.

  “Good evening,” He said, sending a smile around to all of them. “Miss Fellhopper, Lavinia, you are both visions this evening.”

  “Thank you,” Lavinia said with a pleased smile.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Charlotte murmured, glancing away in maidenly modesty.

  “We were just discussing your recent visit to my estate,” Fellhopper said.

  “Ah yes, I do hope all is well,” Marc said.

  “Quite,” Fellhopper assured him, a wide grin spreading across his handsome face. “Your cousin was also commenting on the wool market.”

  Marc glanced at Rome. “I didn’t know you followed the market.”

  “Actually, we were discussing sheep,” Charlotte said, with another giggle. “Mr. Devereaux is quite a wit.”

  “Yes, Rome is quite entertaining,” Marc said, his expression utterly polite. “Miss Fellhopper, would you do me the honor of saving me a dance?”

  She beamed. “Why certainly, Lord Haverford.” She extended her dance card.

  “I would request one as well, Miss Fellhopper,” Rome said.

  Marc flicked a glance at Rome, then smiled at Charlotte. “Do you waltz?”

  “Why yes, I have been granted permission to do so.”

  “Then the waltz it must be.” He scribbled his name on her card, then handed the small pencil to Rome.

  Vin raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Rome stepped forward and scrawled his name beside the minuet.

  “Until the waltz,” Marc said, bowing to Charlotte. He nodded at the rest of the group. “Fellhopper, Rome, Lavinia.”

  “And we must greet some acquaintances who have just arrived,” Dennis said, as the earl strode away. “Good evening to you both.”

  “Fellhopper,” Rome said with a nod. He bowed over Charlotte’s hand. “Miss Fellhopper, I look forward to our dance.”

  She gave him a sweet smile, her blue eyes shining with pleasure. “I will see you then, Mr. Devereaux.”

  The Fellhoppers moved away, and Rome turned back to see Lavinia staring after them with a contemplative expression on her face.

  “I know that look,” Rome said. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She smiled at him, but he wasn’t fooled.

  “Lavinia.” He drew out her name and fixed her with his most intimidating stare.

  She rolled her eyes. “Do not attempt to freeze me with your impressive glare, Roman Devereaux. As your sister, I am immune.”

  “You are up to something. I want to know what it is.”

  She gave an impatient huff. “Fine. I was just thinking that Marc was acting odd around the Fellhoppers. Did you notice anything?”

  “Not at all. He seems quite friendly with them, actually.”

  “Exactly. If he weren’t courting Miss Rosewood, I would think he had an interest in Miss Fellhopper.”

  “But he is courting Miss Rosewood.” The words felt like sawdust in his mouth. “They are practically engaged.”

  “I know,” Vin said with a dismissive wave. “I just thought he acted odd just now.”

  “You are imagining things.”

  “Perhaps.” Vin stared after the earl, her lips pursed in thought. “We will see.”

  “I see Mrs. Emberly,” Anna said to her mother. “I am going to go speak to her.”

  Deep in conversation with an acquaintance, Henrietta nodded and waved a dismissive hand.

  Anna made her way across the room, her gaze fixed on Rome’s broad shoulders as he stood talking to his sister. With every step closer, her heart beat faster.

  Business, she reminded herself. She was approaching him for business reasons, not personal ones.

  He looked up as she reached them, and his animated expression faded to a practiced air of polite inquiry.

  “Good evening, Lavinia, Ro—ah, Mr. Devereaux.”

  “Anna!” Lavinia exclaimed, her face lighting with pleasure. “We were just speaking of you.”

  “Were you?” She darted a glance at Rome. His impassive expression did not reassure.

  “We were speaking of Haverford,” he said, “and therefore your name was mentioned.”

  Vin sent her brother a look of annoyance. “Pay no attention to him, Anna. His appointment with Mr. Vaughn has been rescheduled, and he is out of sorts about it.”

  “Vin,” Rome warned with a glower.

  “Don’t bother fixing your famous glare on me, Roman. I already told you it doesn’t work.”

  He stiffened. “I dislike you advertising my personal business to all and sundry.”

  “Anna is practically family,” Vin protested, clearly becoming irritated with her brother.

  “She’s not family yet.”

  Anna jerked as if from a physical blow.

  “Rome!” Lavinia gasped, clearly appalled at her brother’s conduct.

  Anna lifted her gaze to his. The indifference in his eyes transformed him from the ardent lover she had met at Vauxhall to a man she did not know.

  She sucked in a much-needed breath, fighting for composure. Perhaps it was best to be rid of him. Their history together had proven that they were a dangerous combination.

  But how could she accomplish her goal without him?

  Lavinia’s husband joined them at that moment. “Good evening, all,” he said, his joviality breaking the chilly silence.

  “Henry, there you are.” Lavinia’s relief came through in her voice. “Have you met Miss Rosewood?”

  “Not formally.” Emberly smiled at her, his dark brown eyes full of warmth and good nature. “How do you do, Miss Rosewood?”

  “Very well, thank you, Mr. Emberly,” Anna lied.

  “If you will all excuse me,” Rome said suddenly. He gave them a bow and stalked away.

  Emberly cast his departing brother-in-law a puzzled
look. “Gad, Lavinia, what’s the matter with your brother?”

  “I have no idea,” she replied. “He was unconscionably rude to Miss Rosewood.”

  “How odd.” Emberly smiled at Anna. “I hope you will forgive Roman, Miss Rosewood. He does have something of a temper, I’m afraid.”

  “And I would like to apologize for him as well,” Lavinia said. “Pray do not hold his bad manners against the rest of us!”

  “Of course not,” Anna said.

  “Roman spent quite a bit of time in the battlefield,” Emberly said. “That sort of thing tends to change a man. I am certain the next time you see him, he will apologize for his behavior.”

  Anna forced a smile. “I’m sure you are right.”

  Lavinia reached out and touched her hand. “Do call on me tomorrow, Anna. Even though my brother is clearly a clodpole, I quite enjoy your company.”

  “Thank you, Lavinia. I will do just that.”

  “In the meantime,” Emberly said, “I have come to claim my wife for the next dance.”

  “How lovely!” Lavinia squealed.

  “I know how you love to dance, my dear,” Emberly said, gently touching his wife’s cheek.

  “Yes, and I intend to take full advantage before my confinement. Anna, will you excuse us?”

  “Of course.” Anna watched the couple head for the dance floor and wondered if she would ever find such happiness.

  One thing was certain; she would never find contentment until she discovered the truth behind Anthony’s death. If Rome had decided not to help her, then she would take matters into her own hands.

  Mama might have confined her to the house, but there were other ways she could help. The ring, perhaps. She would bring Anthony’s note with her and make discreet inquiries of all the jewelers to see if someone knew where the rings came from. Even Mama could not object to a shopping trip!

  Once the Black Rose Society was exposed for what it truly was, only then would her brother’s soul find peace.

  Only then would the nightmares stop.

  Rome watched Anna from the other side of the room. The hurt expression on her face had squeezed his heart like a wine grape, but he knew he was doing the right thing by pushing her away. The Black Rose Society was more than a club of duelists that had gotten out of hand; the organization condoned murder for money, which meant that the men behind it would kill to protect their secret.

  He couldn’t allow Anna to put her life in danger.

  As Emberly claimed Vin for a dance, Anna slowly made her way back to her mother. Rome ached to wipe the sorrowful look from her face, to take her in his arms and make everything right. But he couldn’t do that.

  She wasn’t his woman, and the farther away he stayed, the better it was for both of them.

  “Miss Rosewood, I believe I have this dance,” Haverford said.

  Anna looked up from her conversation with one of her father’s cronies and smiled at the earl. “I believe you are correct, my lord.” She excused herself from Captain Raymond and took the earl’s proffered arm.

  “I trust you are enjoying yourself this evening,” Haverford said, as they took their places for the set.

  “It has been most entertaining,” Anna assured him. “I especially like the Grecian theme.”

  “Indeed,” the earl replied.

  “Hello again!” Charlotte Fellhopper said, taking a place next to them for the minuet. Rome accompanied her, moving to the spot across from Charlotte. His green eyes glittered like cold gemstones, and Anna nearly shivered.

  “Miss Fellhopper,” Haverford said with a nod. He slanted a sharp look at Rome. “Cousin.”

  “Marc,” Rome acknowledged. His tone utterly bland, he glanced at Anna. “Miss Rosewood.”

  The orchestra launched into the minuet before Anna could respond. She stepped into the dance by rote, exquisitely conscious of Rome so close by. He smiled at Charlotte and made her laugh with murmured witticisms while he treated her, Anna, with a disdain she did not understand. What had she done to earn his enmity?

  Caught up in her furtive glances at the other couple, she moved into the next pattern of the dance, only to crash into Lord Haverford. “Oh! My apologies, my lord!”

  “Nonsense. Entirely my doing.” Haverford recovered himself and fell back into step. He sent a dark look at Charlotte and Rome, then mustered a smile for Anna. “All is well.”

  Anna turned in time with the music, passing near enough to Rome to almost touch him. She gritted her teeth and determined not to look at him. Lord Haverford was her concern, and the displeasure she spied on her mother’s face from across the room only drove home that point.

  Lord Haverford stepped on her toe. She winced and looked at him, only to see him jerk his gaze away from Rome and Charlotte. “Apologies, Miss Rosewood! I fear I am not a very good dancer.”

  Despite her throbbing toe, Anna managed to form her lips into a smile. “No one is good at everything, my lord.”

  “Except my cousin.” Haverford sent another look Rome’s way. Rome was moving with Charlotte in perfect time, clearly a superior dancer. “I have been…er…watching him to try and match his steps.”

  “I see.” Puzzled, for she had never before observed any problem with the earl’s dancing ability, Anna lapsed into silence. Haverford made no attempt at further conversation and focused on his movements with a single-mindedness that should have flattered her.

  How was she supposed to attract a man intent on silence?

  By the time the orchestra played the last note, she felt as if she had run for miles. Her heart pounded, and moisture misted her forehead.

  Haverford escorted her back to her mother’s side and made a very correct bow, then walked off. Anna watched as Rome did the same with Charlotte, returning her to the company of her brother with a flourish. His duty dispatched, he then headed for the French doors, disappearing through them to the moonlit gardens.

  Haverford appeared almost immediately before Charlotte, offering his arm to lead her back to the dance floor as the first strains of the waltz filled the room. The couple took the traditional position, then swept across the floor in a graceful whirl.

  “It’s just not fair,” her mother grumbled. “You should be dancing the waltz with Lord Haverford instead of Miss Fellhopper!”

  “We danced the minuet.” She watched the French doors, but Rome did not reappear.

  Henrietta sighed. “And his lordship is such an accomplished dancer. I do wish it were you out there, Anna.”

  Anna turned her attention to Haverford and Charlotte. Indeed, they moved together as if reading each other’s minds. Never once did the earl stumble or tread on Charlotte’s toes. He swept her around the floor with the grace of a dance master, his face animated as he conversed. Charlotte smiled and listened, her expression rapt.

  “Perhaps he only knows the waltz,” Anna mused. “He certainly seems more confident now.”

  “I shall see about obtaining permission for you to waltz.” Henrietta snapped open her fan. “By tomorrow, I daresay. If it is the waltz that Lord Haverford wants, then it is the waltz he shall have. With you, my girl.”

  “Yes, Mama.” Anna caught sight of Lavinia across the room. “Would it be all right if I went to speak with Mrs. Emberly?”

  “You should probably remain close by in case his lordship wishes to dance with you again.”

  “That is a sensible idea.” She paused, pursing her lips. “Or I could engage his cousin, Mrs. Emberly, in conversation. He is bound to pay his respects to her.”

  A crafty smile curved her mother’s lips. “An excellent notion, daughter. Yes, do go speak to our dear friend, Mrs. Emberly. I’m glad to see you are finally taking an interest in your future.”

  “I am very interested in the future,” Anna said, then began to make her way to the other side of the room where Lavinia stood. Just as she got there, Mr. Emberly appeared and coaxed his wife to the floor a second time.

  Just as well, Anna thought, and slipped thro
ugh the French doors in pursuit of her real prey.

  Chapter 14

  Alone with the night, Rome puffed on a slender cheroot he had taken from a hidden pocket. The flavor of the pungent tobacco lingered on his tongue as he blew out the smoke in a slow, steady stream.

  He shouldn’t be out here, smoking in the garden. The intimate grottoes were designed for lovers, not for solitary fools like him. Smoking was normally limited to exclusive male venues such as gentlemen’s clubs or a man’s study. It was particularly bad form to be seen smoking in public.

  But he didn’t care. He needed to do something to maintain control, and the cheroot had seemed a damned good idea at the time.

  He heard the scrape of a shoe behind him. With a muttered curse, he tossed the cigar into the bushes and turned around, a polite smile on his lips.

  The smile vanished when he saw who was there.

  “Were you smoking?” Anna asked.

  He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing out here alone?”

  “I’m not alone. You’re here. Were you just smoking?” She sniffed the air. “I thought I smelled cigar smoke.”

  “Go back inside,” he said, turning away again.

  “No.” Her shoes made a soft shuffle as she crossed the stone terrace. “I want to talk to you.”

  “I have nothing to say to you.” He went down the stairs and began to follow a flower-lined pathway.

  She scurried after him. “You will not escape me so easily, Roman Devereaux.”

  “Go back to your mama,” he said over his shoulder.

  “I will not.”

  He stopped and faced her. She skidded to a halt just in time to avoid crashing into him. “Go. Back. Inside.”

  Her lips tightened in mutiny. “No.”

  She stood so close, he could smell her scent, even above the fragrance of the flowers surrounding them. He squeezed his eyes shut for an instant as he fought for control. Then he opened them again and looked at her, so soft and beautiful in the moonlight. The shimmering peach silk dress clung to her every curve, and her skin glowed like rich cream. Her locket glimmered in the moonlight.