Rosalind

by Brianna York

  “Good day,” he said then, tugging at his forelock in a pantomime of servitude before allowing his horse to canter away. She turned in the saddle and watched him ride off. When she looked back at her friends, they were all watching her with various degrees of amusement and worry.

  “I know what he is,” she said a bit tightly. “I do not need to be warned off.” She felt her cheeks growing hot beneath their scrutiny and she nudged Nyx into motion. “Shall we keep riding?” she said with feigned nonchalance as she trotted away.

  Alex and Matthew exchanged a knowing look. They knew Rosy better than anyone else and were aware that she was young and inexperienced. They also knew that she loved adventure and was given to a bit of wild behavior. The situation would bear some attention on their part.

  As the group fell in behind Rosy’s mare, Rob caught Forrest’s eye. “She says that she knows him for what he is, but can a girl of her age really understand what the Viscount does with his time?”

  Forrest shrugged slightly. “I imagine that knowing something and believing it are two different things, my good man,” was all he said in reply.

  Rob scowled a bit at that. “That is what I was afraid of,” he answered. He decided that he would need to have a word with the Viscount about Lady Rosalind before anything untoward happened between them. He tried not to think about how often he kept company with the Viscount and those like him when he was in town. If he examined thoughts like that too closely he was afraid that he would not like himself very much.

  “Rosy,” Rob called to her, trotting his horse a few feet in order to catch up to her. He tried to ignore the slightly hostile glint in her eyes when she glanced over at him. “Please tell me that you will not invite the attentions of the Viscount. I know him better than you do. He is not a fit suitor for a woman of good breeding or good sense.”

  “You say that you know him well?” Rosy countered, a small flash of defiance in her brown eyes. Her chin was tilted upwards at a defiant angle.

  Rob’s brows drew down slightly. “Yes. I play cards with him frequently.”

  “Indeed,” Rosy replied archly. “Well, I do not see how you can say that he is not a fit companion for a person of good breeding and taste if you spend many hours with him each week.”

  “That is different!” Rob said vehemently.

  Rosy looked him full in the face, her eyes snapping. “I do not see how it should be different, Robert Kensington. If I did not know better I should say that you are jealous.”

  Rob opened his mouth, then shut it, thinking better of what he had been about to say. “Rosy, you are overreacting. I am simply offering advice out of desire to keep you safe.”

  Rosy snorted in a very unladylike way. She was pleased to find that she was angry enough that his exceedingly handsome face did not soften her resolve. “You do not wish to court me yourself but you apparently also will not allow any other man to do so. Is that not so?”

  Rob’s face looked positively thunderous now. Rosy was pleased to have elicited something other than the cool veneer of polite boredom that Rob so often exuded. “You are being most unjust towards me!” he managed to say from between gritted teeth.

  “Well then, that makes us even!” Rosy shouted at him. She cast one last furious glare his way before spurring her mare into a gallop and drawing away from the group.

  Rob watched her leave, her hair whipping loose from its pins and her skirts billowing around her ankles. A small corner of his mind acknowledged that she looked very beautiful when she was angry. He also admitted to himself that there was some truth in her words.

  “For what it is worth,” Matthew said, riding up alongside his friend. “I completely agree with your judgement that the Viscount is not a fit suitor for Rosy.”

  Rob blew out a breath and shook his head. He tried to slow his breathing some. He was a bit put out with himself. He rarely got angry about anything, let alone the kind of anger that led to shouting. How had she backed him into a corner so thoroughly? “I appreciate that, Matt,” Rob answered. He shifted in the saddle slightly. “I must admit however, that I should not have told her whom she should speak with.”

  Matthew reached out and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder briefly. “She has more sense than you are giving her credit for, I believe.”

  Rob smiled wanly at his oldest friend. “I am sure that you are right, Matthew.”

  Matthew squeezed Rob’s shoulder before removing his hand. “A word of advice?” Matthew said quietly. Rob glanced over at him and nodded tersely. “Think about what you feel for Rosy. She knows what she feels. The least you can do is know your own mind with regard to her place in your life.”

  Rob felt his chest grow tight. Matthew had been direct as was his wont. He always did get right to the heart of the situation at hand. “I shall think on the matter,” he agreed, his voice somewhat thin. He disliked how much he might have just revealed to himself, to his friends and most of all to Rosy.

  Rosy slowed her mare when she reached the edge of the park. She knew better than to return to her home alone and unescorted. She walked her mare in circles to allow Nyx to catch her breath and tried to slow her thoughts.

  Why had she allowed herself to become so angry with Rob? Why had she shouted at him? She closed her eyes for a moment, her cheeks hot from her lingering anger and some embarrassment. She could not really be angry at Rob for not loving her as she loved him. It was not his fault that he did not reciprocate her feelings. She sighed and twisted her fingers into her mare’s mane. She could not resent him for his lack of feelings for her, but she also did not regret telling Rob that he could not keep her from seeking happiness with another suitor. He owed her at least that much. He was not her father or her brother and he certainly had not volunteered to court her.

  “Perhaps I shall be an old maid,” Rosy said softly to Nyx. “With a good horse like you as a companion, I should never need any other company. It sounds rather more peaceful, don’t you think?”

  The little horse snorted softly and shook her head and Rosy giggled at her apparent dissenting answer. Feeling less out of sorts, Rosy patted her horse on the neck and waited for her friends to join her.

  Chapter Two

  Rob waved a hand at the cigar smoke in the air and wrinkled his nose slightly. He did not mind a good drink but he really had never grown fond of tobacco smoke. He spied the group he was looking for toward the back of the room, deep in their cards.

  “Care for another player?” he asked as he pulled up a chair. He smothered a small cough as his lungs adjusted to the smoky air around him.

  “We will deal you into the next hand, Kensington,” Viscount Longford said with a welcoming smile. He revealed his hand of cards to the groans of the rest of the table. “Good to see you, old man,” the Viscount went on as he swept his winnings closer to his place at the table.

  “Thank you,” Rob replied, straightening his lapels and getting more comfortable in his chair. “I had been away dealing with some business in the country. It feels nice to be back in town,” he said as he sorted his hand of cards efficiently. He suppressed a small twang of worry at the thought of his meeting with his Steward. He had inherited an old title and expansive lands when his father had passed away. Sadly, the old title did not come with as much money as would have been required to make the running of its many properties and holdings a comfortable process. He had made some recent adjustments to help save some money but he was beginning to be afraid that he would have to start selling things to help make ends meet. He ordered himself to stick to just a few hands of cards tonight. No sense wasting money on frivolity.

  “Nothing in the country can hold a candle to the city,” said the Baron to Rob’s left. He drained his glass of port in one long swallow, then raised a hand and snapped his fingers impatiently. A waiter arrived on quiet feet and took away the empty glass.

  While Rob would have said that he agreed in many ways, he found that he no longer enjoyed town as much as he once had. He priv
ately thought he was simply getting a bit long in the tooth for the hell-raising he had once enjoyed. Or, he pondered, perhaps seeing his closest friends settling into happy marriages had made him wonder for the first time if he might not need to consider doing the same.

  Rob allowed a few hands of cards to pass. Between hands he leaned over to the Viscount. “I thought I might have a word with you about a personal matter, Mowbray,” he said quietly. He set his cards down on the table and rose to his feet.

  “Are you already done playing for the night, Lord Coulthurst?” The Baron asked a bit peevishly. Rob assumed that the man had a favorable hand and disliked seeing that there would now be less money in play.

  “I fear I am quite done in,” Rob replied easily, gesturing toward the door to the room with a nod of his head that only the Viscount noticed. “Old age must be creeping up on me. Good night, Gentlemen,” he said to the table at large before stepping away. He heard Mowbray make an apology for missing the next hand and sensed the other man following him to the doorway.

  “Something amiss, my good man?” Mowbray asked as he caught up to Rob at the door. Rob noted that even slightly in his cups and with his neck cloth akimbo, Longford still cut a dash. For some reason this annoyed Rob excessively. Rob tried to quell the uneasy feeling that he was overstepping his place and forged ahead.

  “What are your intentions towards Lady Rosalind?” he asked quietly, his eyes narrowed slightly on the other man’s face.

  Mowbray winged a brow at this and leaned against the doorframe casually. “Have you set your cap for her yourself, Kensington?” he asked easily. “I suppose it does make a certain sense as you have known her family for so many years.”

  Rob shook his head. “I am merely asking as a family friend to the Duke of Norwood. I cannot imagine that he should appreciate his daughter being made ridiculous.”

  Mowbray’s face changed at that and took on a harder edge. “Is there anything ridiculous about the attention of a man of rank and fortune seeking to take a wife?” He regarded Rob for a moment thoughtfully. “You assumed I was merely trifling with her, is that it?”

  Rob allowed a soft laugh to escape at this. “Well, Mowbray, you must admit that most of good society has long given up hope of you making a good match due to your dubious behavior toward the fairer sex on more than one occasion.”

  Mowbray tilted his head to the side and looked at Rob for a moment. Rob tried not to shift uncomfortably. “Shall we make it a bet then? You are a wagering man, aren’t you?”

  “I am not sure that I take your meaning,” Rob answered, feeling a drop in the pit of his stomach.

  Mowbray laughed at that. “Of course you do, old man. We shall bet on who manages to secure her first. We both know that your pockets are a bit light at the moment, so if you win her over you will make a bit of money off of myself as well as netting yourself a large dowry. What say you?”

  Rob felt a sense of horror curl in his gut. “I will make no such wager with you, Sir. You insult me by making such a suggestion!”

  Mowbray chuckled. “Well you can’t say I didn’t try to sweeten the pot for you. I have to warn you that even though I have not engaged you with a wager, I will still be pursuing the lady. You have made me very interested in what might take place if I were to actually win her over. I do get so bored.” He stepped away from the wall and sketched a small bow at Rob. “Goodnight to you then, My Lord. I shall see you on the battlefield.”

  Rob watched the other man turn gracefully and walk away, his stomach clenched with anger and concern. What had he done? He managed to exit the club and call for his carriage, but the actions were a blur guided by instinct. He climbed into the lush interior of the conveyance, relieved that he had not chosen to drive himself that night. He needed to be able to think. What to do? He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the squabs. He hated to do it but he decided that he must speak to Matthew and Alex about this latest development.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The sun was warm on his face and wind whipped against his cheeks. He checked the rate of the horses pulling the carriage with a little effort, their strength pulling against his thin arms.

  “Easy there, slow them down,” said his father from his seat alongside Rob. He reached over and adjusted the reins in his son’s hands and the horses obeyed the increase of pressure.

  His mother had not been pleased to learn that Rob was to drive them to the neighboring estate for a country outing with some friends. She had complained frequently that the horses were too hot and were not safe for anyone to drive, let alone her young son. The Earl had overridden her requests for Rob to ride with herself and his sister in the carriage. He had told her to stop treating him like a child and argued that it was more than time for his son to begin to learn how to be a man and not a boy.

  “They are so strong!” Rob said happily, pleased that he was finally big enough to drive his father’s beautiful team of horses and that his father had allowed him his first attempt at doing so.

  His father smiled proudly at that. He loved expensive things and the matched team of bays pulling the carriage were a sure sign of wealth and superiority in his eyes. “They were worth every penny,” he said to his son. “Careful now, there’s a rider on the lane.”

  Rob glanced up from his contemplation of the horse’s shiny backs and saw the horse galloping at them. He felt a moment of alarm as it appeared that the man was not slowing down as would be expected but instead was galloping at full tilt up the narrow country track toward the carriage.

  “Father…” Rob said with some alarm but he never managed to finish the sentence. A sudden flurry of movement to the side of the lead horse revealed itself as a small group of horses all jumping over a fence and landing in the lane. As the first rider barreled past, the lead horse snorted and shied. The remainder of the party of riders arriving abruptly in the lane proved too much for the sensitive horses to stand for. With loud snorts, they shook their heads, their fear overriding the pressure of the bridles and the meager strength of Rob’s arms. Rob made a valiant effort to gather the reins and get control of the horses but it was too late.

  Rob was aware of his father attempting to take the reins from his hands and wrest control of the frightened horses into his more powerful grip. The sudden slack in the reins allowed the spooked horses to dive forward and what little control had been possible before was lost as the reins slipped through Rob’s numbed fingers. The reins trailed in the lane as the horses galloped out of control. Rob heard the cries of his mother and sister as the carriage jounced over the ruts in the lane and gathered speed. He tried to think of something to do, something that might help stop the horses. The last thing he saw was the white of the left header’s eyes as it was ripped off its feet when the carriage overturned. He heard the harsh scream of horses in pain and the terrible cries of his mother and sister before he tumbled off the driver’s perch and was plummeted down a small drop off. He landed with a splash in the ditch, his head spinning and the sound of splintering wood echoing in his ears.

  Rob scrambled to his feet and clawed his way up the bank, his hands torn and bleeding from when the reins had been torn from his grasp. “Papa!” he shouted, not seeing his father anywhere. He heard nothing but the labored breathing of the two horses who had not been killed in the crash as they struggled to gain their feet.

  He raced around the heap of splintered finery that had once been a carriage and felt his heart plummet to his toes. His father knelt in the road, his arms wrapped around the bodies of his daughter and wife, sobbing incoherently. Rob saw a trickle of blood run out of his sister’s mouth and drip down the back of his father’s hand. He felt his stomach turn queasily. “Pappa?” he said in a strained whisper, uncertain what to do.

  “You killed them!” his father shouted then, his voice breaking with the strain of his emotion. “God help me, you KILLED them!”

  Rob sat up with a gasp, his stomach in knots and his heart pounding in his chest. He pushed sweat
soaked hair off his brow with a shaky hand and tried to get control of himself. “Oh, good Lord,” he muttered. “Why?”

  He buried his head in his hands and tried to push back the tide of guilt and horror that the dream had brought. Would he never be free of that day? He groaned quietly and waited for his heart to slow down to a more normal speed.

  “My Lord?” the soft male voice belonged to Rob’s valet, Jasper.

  “Good morning, Jasper,” Rob said in a slightly shaky voice. He did not raise his head from his hands however, uncertain of what Jasper would see in his eyes.

  “The nightmare again?” Jasper inquired in the same soothing, low voice. Rob heard water being poured into an ewer before a hot towel was pressed gently into his shaky hands.

  Rob wiped the towel slowly over his sweaty face, grateful for the understanding of his valet. As the dream slowly faded, he sat up a bit in bed. “It was so long ago,” he said quietly. “Why must I still be tortured by that day?”

  Jasper took the towel from his employer and moved about the room gathering Rob’s attire for the coming day. “Sometimes the heart forgets more slowly than the mind, My Lord.”

  Rob could not argue with the truth of that. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and was pleased to find that they were fairly steady. “What time is it, Jasper?”

  “It is nine o’clock, My Lord,” Jasper said from the depths of the wardrobe as he gathered linens for his employer. “We should have just enough time to get you properly dressed to go call on His Grace, the Duke Dunsaney.”