by Brianna York
Rosy’s mother had been watching this exchange with some confusion, her eyes narrowed slightly on her daughter’s profile. “It appears that I need not extend any introduction to you, Viscount. You seem to know my daughter very well already.”
Longford sobered somewhat under the pressure of her scrutiny. “Your daughter is a diamond of the first water, Your Grace. She is everything proper and ladylike. I confess that her beauty has overset my senses somewhat and made me forget my manners. Pray forgive me.”
The man’s enormous charm seemed to be having the same effect on her mother that it seemed to have on all other members of the fairer sex. She visibly relaxed at this praise and tossed Rosy a brief smile. “You do us both a kindness to compliment her so.”
“Indeed,” Rosy replied a bit sarcastically, though the tone of her voice appeared to completely pass by her mother’s attention. The Viscount had clearly heard the tone of her voice and his eyes twinkled at her for a moment before he returned his attentions to her putting her mother at ease.
∞ ∞ ∞
“I confess I thought we would never escape,” Rosy said aloud a half hour later as she followed her footmen and the Viscount out into the wan sunlight and walked toward the waiting horses. She fluffed her skirts a bit and danced a few steps, feeling the weight of her mother’s expectations roll off her shoulders.
The Viscount watched her antics, a half smile on his face. While he thought he would never succumb to the state of matrimony, he did find Rosy to be the most interesting young woman he had met amongst the ton. She defied the strictures of her place in society in so many small ways that other young unmarried girls would never dream of. He enjoyed her outrageous commentary almost as much as her whimsical behavior.
“Now we shall ride away from your worries,” Longford said to her as he helped her mount her horse. He squeezed her calf before withdrawing and Rosy felt the improper gesture as if he had caressed her far more intimately. She waited only just long enough for him to swing aboard his horse before trotting away briskly. Let him follow her for a change. She would set the pace.
They made their way quickly to the park, Rosy leading the small party of men. She nodded to a few acquaintances she passed but did not slow down or offer any conversation to the Viscount. When they had finally gained the riding path, she heard his horse gaining on hers. He rode up alongside her and trotted along for a minute in silence, both of them posting to the rhythm of their horses’ respective gaits.
“Is this a new kind of social call where the two parties involved pretend not to know one another at all?” Longford asked, regarding her profile with a knowing smile on his face.
She turned then to look at him, her eyes very bright beneath her veil. “I thought it was the kind of social call that a man such as yourself does not make,” she replied. “Perhaps I should teach you how to behave around proper young ladies? You seem always to be spending your time with other sorts of female company.”
He looked at her for a moment, then shouted with laughter when she did not back down from her bold words. “Touché,” he said, touching the brim of his hat in deference to her. “Pray tell, what should a proper escort suggest to a proper young lady?”
“A race of course!” she said and promptly urged her mare into a gallop, laughing as Nyx’s hooves threw dirt into the face of the Viscount’s horse.
“Hoyden!” he murmured to himself, a grin on his face as he loosed his horse to catch up to hers.
Rosy glanced back over her shoulder and saw the Viscount catching up with her mare. She allowed him to draw closer, then spurred the mare to greater speed, ignoring the wind tearing at her clothes and unraveling her carefully arranged hair. She felt all her frustrated emotions and desires feeding her need to be incautious and indecorous. Her hat come unpinned from her hair and she laughed as her mare shied at it when it flew off. She continued to gallop down the path, only slowing to a walk when there was no longer room to gallop in safety. The Viscount caught up to her a moment later, his eyes sparkling and a grin on his face.
“Good show, you minx,” he teased.
She mimicked his gesture to her earlier, pretending to tug at her hat. The movement caused the last of the pins in her hair to come unmoored and her hair tumbled down her back in a wavy mass of brunette curls. She raised her eyes to the Viscount’s, and she saw the sudden flash of desire in them when he saw that her hair had come down. She felt her heart thud in her chest and swallowed hard.
“I seem to have ruined the efforts of my abigail,” she said softly, very aware that her footmen had still not caught up to them.
“You look better like this,” Longford said quietly, drawing his horse closer to hers and reaching out a hand. He caught his fingers up in the tangles of silky brown and tugged softly until her face was very close to his. He grinned at her, “I am so glad that you have shown me how proper young ladies ride in the morning. I have been missing out on something most delectable.” He leaned in and kissed her, his lips warm but not at all gentle.
Rosy had not ever been kissed. In a distant corner of her thoughts she thought that perhaps this was not the type of kiss that a girl was supposed to receive for her first experience of the act. The Viscount’s lips changed angles and she felt her mouth part beneath his demand. As he had done to the back of her hand the night before, he flicked his tongue against her lips. She instinctively opened her mouth farther to allow him greater access, her heart racing in her chest and her hands shaking on the reins. She heard herself moan quietly and knew that she should pull away, yet she could not make herself do so. Her dreams had been but shadows of what the real experience of kissing the Viscount would be. She felt as if her inner self was made of liquid and her quickened breath was causing her lips to tingle and grow numb.
A sudden sound of someone clearing their throat broke the spell between them and the Viscount’s horse drew away from Nyx so abruptly that the Viscount accidentally pulled Rosy’s hair sharply. They both looked up to see who had interrupted them. Rosy felt her heart plummet to her toes.
“Good morning to you both,” Rob said, keeping his tone friendly with an effort. He refused to meet Rosy’s gaze, choosing to focus instead on the Viscount’s face. “I seem to have interrupted your ride,” he went on curtly, his blue eyes angry and hard on Longford’s face. He tipped his hat to Rosy as he trotted his horse past them, completely avoiding her horrified gaze.
Rob cursed his lack of ease on a horse as he trotted away from Rosy and the Viscount. He equally cursed his decision to go for a ride this morning just to distract himself from his worries. He did not know what on earth Rosy was thinking to be out riding with the Viscount without an escort let alone to be kissing him in such a fashion with her hair tumbled around her shoulders. He attempted to ignore the sudden spike of desire he had felt for her when she had turned to him with flushed cheeks and her glorious hair fallen down.
“Damn it all,” he muttered to himself, shortening his reins and drawing his horse to a slower pace.
“Rob, stop!” Rosy shouted as she caught up to him. He ignored her and gigged his horse into a sloppy canter. “Bloody hell, will you stop for a moment?” She called, catching up to him and drawing her horse to a slower canter so she could pace him.
“Oh, so now you are cursing as well as playing the whore in public?” Rob said to her, anger coursing through his veins. “There is nothing for us to talk about. Go back to your ride with Longford and leave me in peace.”
“Playing the whore in public!” Rosy shouted, her voice strangled with emotion. “How dare you say such a thing to me, Robert Kensington!” she fairly screamed. She pressed her horse closer to his and caught the rein closest to her. She drew the two horses to a stop, her eyes burning into Rob’s with her fury. He tried not to be distracted by her beauty, her hair swirling around her and her dark eyes brilliant with emotion.
“What else should one call such wanton behavior?” Rob shouted back. “Your hair down, kissing in the park duri
ng calling hours? What will people think of you now? You are letting Longford drag you down to his level, Rosy. He is a rake and you are a fool. Let go of my horse, if you please.”
Rosy stared into Rob’s deep blue eyes, feeling her anger draining away. She felt true physical pain at the disgust in his gaze. She allowed her hand to drop away from his reins, her vision blurred with tears that she willed herself not to shed in front of him. “I do not know why you should care how I comport myself, Coulthurst,” she said coldly, her voice trembling, “When you have never given me a moment’s notice where you did not treat me like a child.” She tilted up her chin to still the trembling of her lips. “A good day to you,” she said frostily and turned her horse to ride back to the Viscount. She noticed distantly that her footmen had just caught up to them, one of them carrying her lost hat. She refused to turn back to look at Rob, but she heard his horse’s hooves as he rode away.
“I am sorry that he said such things to you,” Longford said softly as Rosy rejoined him. “I am afraid it is my fault that we behaved as we should not.”
Rosy shook her head. She drew her horse to a stop and busied her hands trying to pin her hair back into some semblance of order. “I shall not countenance the opinions of those who take no notice of me,” Rosy told him, her voice frosty with her anger. “I admit that we were not decorous, but it is not the place of family friends to call me terrible names in public either.”
Longford had been watching Rob as he rode away, a speculative look on his face. He had not seen the other man truly angry even once in the years he had known him. He was ever the voice of reason at the gaming table in the instance of a dispute and he was never unreasonable when he parted with a mistress. That he had been irate enough to argue with Rosy at all was completely out of character, let alone to have done so with such vitriol. The more moral part of Longford’s brain acknowledged that he should not interfere with Rosy further in the face of such an obvious interest on Rob’s part. The profligate part of him spoke more loudly, however, and he decided that he would be curious to see what other reactions he could draw from Coulthurst by his continued courting of Rosy.
“Do I look at least somewhat restored to order?” Rosy asked the Viscount, drawing his attention back to her face. He smiled at her and she felt her heart flip flop at the look in his eyes. The anguish of her fight with Rob receded somewhat in the face of the warmth in Longford’s gaze.
“You look just the thing,” The Viscount replied easily. “A perfect lady.”
Rosy snorted at that. “Do not do it too brown, Viscount. You know that I am anything but perfect,” she said with a pert smile. “Shall we ride some more?”
The Viscount bowed his head in assent to her suggestion and the pair trotted deeper into the park. Rosy willed herself to forget about Rob’s words and just enjoy the Viscount’s company. See if I care when you marry that silly Cecily Beaumont, Rosy thought angrily at Rob as she rode along. I shall laugh when you realize that she is vain and vapid and not at all equal to you. She only wished that the thought did not hurt her so much.
Chapter Six
Damn it all to hell, Rob thought to himself as he left the park and rode toward his home. He had regretted instantly that he had called Rosy a whore, but it was too late to take back his words. He felt embarrassed that he had revealed his feelings so completely to Rosy but even more that he had shown them to Longford in such a manner. He knew that his obvious frustration with the encounter would only encourage the other man to pursue Rosy with more energy. He shifted in the saddle in an effort to find a comfortable position. He was extremely annoyed to find that the spike of desire he had felt when he saw Rosy with her hair tangled around her face and her lips bruised from kissing was lingering.
“Bloody hell,” he said quietly to himself, his teeth gritted with frustration. What on earth was he to do now? He felt it would be unwise to attempt to apologize and he dared not confront Longford again about his interest in Rosalind. Should he tell Alex and Matthew about what had transpired? He thought about admitting his part in the encounter and decided against bringing the matter to them. He had enough troubles to worry over without having to add to the list the disapproval of his best friends.
He rode his horse into the mews street behind his house and slithered awkwardly from the saddle, hoping that his physical reaction to Rosy had died down enough that he could proceed into his house without too much embarrassment. He could not remember the last time that he had not been in complete control of himself in any social situation. He felt almost frightened to find that he was capable of such intense emotion when it was not truly warranted. He had not felt such strong emotions since his mother and sister had died. He silenced his internal monologue abruptly when he realized where his thoughts were heading. Nothing good ever came from dwelling on past heartaches.
As he mounted the steps to his London house, Rob consulted his pocket watch. His solicitor was coming around in a half an hour to discuss the possibility of selling some of his holdings to help alleviate his financial straits a bit. He was dreading the meeting but knew that it needed to take place.
Once inside the house, Rob handed off his hat and gloves to the butler and then made his way to his study. He poured himself a couple of finger’s worth of brandy and tossed himself into the winged chair before the fire. The need for the warmth of the hearth had passed as the day moved into the afternoon, but a few embers still glowed in the grate. Rob stared at them and tried to calm his racing thoughts. It would not do to be in this mental state when the solicitor arrived.
He was still sitting before the fire but his glass was empty when Mr. Francis Swinton arrived to discuss Rob’s estate. Rob greeted the other man warmly and offered him a glass of port which Swinton declined. Rob gestured to the other chair before the fire and the other man sat down at the edge of the chair, his tension a familiar characteristic that Rob approved of. He liked men of action and often employed them on his properties. While Swinton was not his employee, he approved of the man’s almost militaristic precision and his vast energy.
“I have reviewed the legal documentation for the property that you wish to offer for sale, My Lord,” Swinton said brusquely, passing some papers to Rob as he spoke. “While the property has the value you see listed on the papers before you, there would be a bit of a snag with regards to selling it.”
Rob glanced at the other man, one eyebrow winged inquiringly. “Indeed?” he prompted. He glanced down at the papers in his hand briefly and felt a flood of relief course through him at the number he saw listed for the value of the land.
Swinton hesitated a moment, then said, “It seems that the property actually was included in your family’s holdings as part of your mother’s dowry when she was married to your father.”
Rob nodded. “Yes, that is correct. Is that an issue as relates to the sale for some reason that I am not aware of?”
Swinton frowned a bit, then forged ahead. “The trouble is that the entail on the property specifically states that the property was to be held in trust and used as the dowry of any female issue of your parents’ marriage.”
Rob nodded. “Yes, that was the original intent but my sister has passed away,” he clamped down on the throb of pain and guilt that coursed through him as the thought of selling property that should have been meant for his sister if she had lived to benefit from it.
Swinton nodded again. “Apologies for bringing up a painful topic, My Lord,” he said quietly. Rob waved this away and Swinton went on. “The trouble with this entail is that it specifically limits the sale and use of the property entirely to female family members. While you are allowed to hold it in trust until there is another female in the family to take possession of the property, you are not allowed to dispose of the land or to change the way in which it is currently being used within the estate. I did speak with your father’s former solicitor who has retired from active duty. He did recall advising your father that it might be wise to seek a Royal dispensation t
o change the entail but he said that your father did not wish to discuss it and the matter was let lie.”
Rob cringed internally. Why must every difficulty always come back to the most painful moment in his life? Why must the very necessary property sale be held at arm’s length by his sister’s death? Was he never to be free of the reminders of that horrible day? He thought about how his father had withdrawn from society after the death of his wife and daughter. Many things to do with the family holdings had been completely neglected after his father had become a recluse. Apparently the property in Kent was another such matter.
Swinton had paused to see if Rob would reply to his bad news. Seeing that there was not likely to be a response, he carried on. “The best advice that I can offer you is to marry and produce a daughter, My Lord. There is a contingency in the entail which will allow your legal wife to act as guardian of the property once she had produced a female child. She would be able to approve improvements on the property but not the sale of the land. The sale of the land can only be conducted by a direct female heir.”
Rob felt like crying, or possibly screaming. It felt like some sort of comedy constructed by the heavens that he should be forced at every turn to marry in order to resolve his financial frustrations. He knew that he could sell his home in London if need be, but the property would not yield enough to him to be of true assistance. As a final insult, if he sold his townhome in the city he would then be forced to rent a home each year when he came to town to serve in the House of Lords.
“Is there no chance that I might receive a favorable result from a petition to the crown?” Rob asked dismally.
Swinton shifted in his seat. “Indeed, you might, although you know as well as I do how seldom the crown sees fit to alter the language on an entail. Your father might have had more luck after he was widowed owing to sympathy for his recent loss. This many years later I fear that the petition would remain indefinitely at the bottom of the list of matters which need attention. An additional concern is the time involved. I could not see this matter through since I am not a barrister. I would have to hand the matter off to a barrister and then it would have to run its course through the proper channels. This process alone would take time enough that it would seem more efficient to marry and start producing heirs, if I may be so bold.”
