by Brianna York
She knew what she would do. She rose to her feet and rang the bell for her abigail loudly. As she waited, she thought about the words she would use to convey to Rosalind that she had a vested interest in the Earl and that it required Rosalind’s support. Where was that girl anyhow? She fumed internally, attempting to retain in her mind the sentences that she was composing.
“Mum?” The voice belonged to her abigail. Cecily turned around quickly to see the frail girl hesitating at the doorway, her fine blonde hair escaping from under her cap as if she had run the whole way. Cecily thought that she deserved to look so fatigued if it truly was that difficult to be handy when she was needed.
“Bring me my writing box right away, Emily,” she snapped at the young woman. “See that you hurry up about it before I forget what I have composed. Oh, and also, there is spilled chocolate on the dressing table.”
“Yes, Mum,” the young woman replied, bobbing a frantic curtsy and withdrawing quickly. Cecily continued to try out various forms of the prose she would need to express her point while the servant got her writing things. She was smiling at her own prowess when the girl returned, panting and even more frazzled. She held the small, ornately carved wooden box that held Cecily’s stationary and ink and quills.
“Your writing things, Mum,” Emily said in between wheezing breaths. Cecily did not even spare her a glance as she took the writing box from the other woman’s hands and turned away.
“Clean up the chocolate right away so that I can use the table,” Cecily said, standing next to the dressing table imperiously.
“Of course, Mum,” the poor young servant said breathily, hurrying over and wiping up Cecily’s mess.
“That will be all,” Cecily said to dismiss Emily from her room. “See that you do not go too far this time, though. I shall want this letter sent to its proper direction as soon as I am done composing it.” Her abigail did not bother to reply this time as she slipped from the room and closed the door. Cecily did not even notice, so absorbed was she in her own thoughts.
Dearest Rosalind,
I am writing to request that you shall invite me to any country house party that you host this summer. I would not usually be so forward and gauche to ask in such a manner, but you know very well that you owe me another chance to renew my acquaintance with the Earl. You quite neatly stole from me any opportunity I might have to gain his attention during this Season. The least you could do for me out of friendship is to make certain that I might have a chance to cross paths with him in the country. No need to write back. I know you will see the logic in what I am requesting.
Affectionately,
Cecily
Cecily re-read the contents of her note twice and decided that it would do. She knew it was terribly forward, but really, could a girl be too direct when her entire future was at stake? She thought for a moment of the tradesman’s eldest son who had been paying court to her all Season and cringed. She did not wish to be the wife of a commoner. Rosalind had been fortunate enough to have many advantages since birth. She should not be so selfish as to deny her less fortunate friend the same chance at a happy life.
She rang the bell for Emily and looked at herself in the looking glass before her. Cecily smiled brightly at her reflection, pleased with herself for resolving the gnawing frustration of her situation.
“Please make sure that this gets delivered to the house of the Duke of Norwood,” Cecily said, holding the note out pinched between her elegant fingers. “It is very important that it arrives there today at the latest. I believe that the family is to withdraw to the country today or tomorrow.”
Emily took the note, dipped into a harried curtsy and left the room without a word. She closed the door with a soft click, eager to be away from the bossy orders and arrogant ways of her young mistress. She hoped fervently that she would not be taken with the family to the country this year. She could use a break from the haughty young cousin of the Viscount.
Emily walked toward the front of the house, keeping her eyes peeled for a footman to run the letter to the Duke’s house. A glance out the window on her way down the hall had shown that the weather was very fine and she was briefly sad that she could not carry the letter herself. It was too nice a day to be locked away indoors. She reached the foot of the stairs and turned to walk down the hallway toward the kitchen. Her eyes were trained on the floor and she did not see the Viscount until it was too late. She uttered a little gasp as she crashed into the man, then realized whom she had run into and sputtered a blushing apology.
“Nonsense,” Longford replied, steadying the young woman with a gentle grip on her shoulders before stepping away from her a pace. “You simply did not see me.” He smiled kindly at the little maid. He had always rather liked Emily for her gentle and polite manners and he found her slightly frazzled air to be charming.
“Please forgive me, Your Lordship,” Emily said again, bobbing into a curtsy, her cheeks aflame. “I was running an errand for Miss Beaumont and must have been very intent on my purpose not to see you.”
“An errand, you say?” The Viscount asked, tilting his head to the side. Emily risked a glance up at him, then blushed more furiously when she met his hazel eyes.
“Yes, a small thing. I shall be back to my duties as soon as I have discharged her request,” Emily said quickly. She made to step around him so that she might be free of his scrutiny. He was much too handsome for Emily to feel comfortable standing about talking to him in the hallway. What if the older servants saw her? Would they think she was attempting to get his attention?
“That is not why I asked,” Longford said as she stepped past him. “I know that you are a hard worker. I was rather more curious about what my cousin could have asked for you to attend to.”
Emily looked down at the scrap of paper in her hand, then said, “Oh just a letter to be sent to the Duke of Norwood’s house, Your Lordship.”
Longford arched a chestnut brow at this. “A letter? Give it here, please.” He held out one elegant hand to her. Emily hesitated, then offered the letter to him. It had not been sealed and he opened the letter and skimmed the contents quickly. “Emily,” he said then, “you may go about your duties now. I shall take care of the letter.”
Emily looked at him for a moment, inquiry in her blue eyes. She remembered herself quickly though and dropped into another hurried curtsy before she fairly scurried away. Longford watched her scuttle away down the hall, then looked again at the letter in his hand. He had to admit that his cousin was cheeky. There was no other way to describe such a missive to be sent to a young woman who would not welcome it. No, he was not going to let this letter reach its intended recipient. He might not wish to conform to Society’s strictures himself, but he would be damned if he let his greedy cousin embarrass him in this fashion. Shaking his head, Longford continued on to his study, ripping the note from Cecily into small pieces as he went. He was glad that he did not have any other young and penniless cousins that he would have to launch into society. Cecily was more than enough work for one lifetime.
Chapter Twelve
Rob nervously pulled at this shirt points, then buttoned his blue tailcoat. The color of his coat brought out the deeper azure tones in his eyes, causing them to seem very bright in his slightly pale face. His black hair had been coiffed into perfect orderliness by his valet, its soft waves and curls an invitation to be ruffled by adventurous female fingers. He knew that he looked his very best, so long as one did not notice the tension thrumming through him or the shadows beneath his eyes. How did one prepare to beg for one’s own selfish needs in this fashion? Should he claim the more romantic part of his interest or should he be blunt?
“Just be honest with her,” Minerva had advised the night before. “We women are stronger than you give us credit for.”
“I certainly hope so,” Rob muttered under his breath as he collected his top hat, gloves and walking stick.
“Pardon, My Lord?” Jasper asked from the other side of the room
where he was tidying up Rob’s armoire.
“Nothing,” Rob replied with a casual wave of one elegant hand. “I was just talking to myself.”
Jasper turned away and continued to tidy up the room. Free of his valet’s scrutiny, Rob looked at himself in the mirror again, trying to ease some of the constriction wrapped around his heart. He was not even sure if he was nervous or anxious or some species of excited. He had yet to come completely to terms with what had come to pass between Rosalind and himself at the Norwood’s ball. The need to be fair to Rosy with regards to the request he was going to make of her in the next hour was so great that he simply could not work out the rest of his feelings about her.
Pulling his watch from his vest pocket, Rob flipped open the cover and checked the time. “No time like the present, I suppose,” he said with feigned lightness as he turned away from the mirror.
Jasper smiled in reply to his words and nodded. “It is always a blessing to get something done that one has been worrying about,” he answered easily. “I am sure that Lady Norwood will feel much the same.”
Rob smiled slightly at his valet’s words. “I had not thought about her side of the situation. You are a wise man, Jasper.”
Jasper chuckled. “Take such thoughts with a grain of salt, My Lord. I am no philosopher.”
“I should hate to find that you were such a thing,” Rob answered, “for I fear that a philosopher would not much enjoy being my valet and would leave in search of the truths of the universe.”
The men exchanged a chuckle at this before Rob bid Jasper farewell and left his rooms. He trotted down the stairs into the foyer and took his hat and walking stick from Byrd. Feeling as armored against failure as he might be, he left the house and climbed into his carriage. As he settled against the squabs, he tried to decide how he felt about the recent turn of events which had overset his usual routine. In a sense, he was glad to have a purpose besides having fun, but he felt ambivalent about the idea of being married and sharing his life with another person. To add to his confusion, he could not properly put a name to his feelings related to Rosalind. Attraction he understood, but the moment that he had shared with her at the ball went beyond simple physical attraction.
His wandering thoughts turned to the losses of the past and he set his mouth in a grim line. It would not do at all to dwell on the sadness of losing his family or the nagging feeling that he was unfit to care for a wife or children. He pushed back the unhappy memories crowding to the front of his mind and decided to mentally recite the speech he had been planning for the past two days. It would not be at all the thing to stumble over his words on today of all days.
By the time the carriage drew to a halt in front of the Duke of Norwood’s house, Rob had gathered a sense of tenuous calm about himself. He made his way up the steps to the front door and rapped the knocker sharply. Hayward ushered him in and took Rob’s hat and walking stick. The butler apologized for the confusion in the front hallway, citing the family’s impending removal to the country as the reason for all the fuss. In his current mental state, Rob had not even noticed the trunks and various paraphernalia crowded into the foyer. He assured Hayward that he was not in the least put out before following the elderly man down the hall to the morning room.
“His Lordship, Earl Coulthurst,” Hayward said in his deep voice as he pushed open the double doors to the sunny room.
Rob stepped into the room and was greeted by the sight of Rosy and her mother sitting close together on a sofa in the center of the room. They both rose to their feet and the Duchess Norwood crossed the room to take his hand between hers. She pressed his hand fondly and showered pleasantries on him that he tried to pay attention to. He felt as if his entire being was focused on Rosy’s presence in the room. She pulled him like a lodestone and he had to force himself not to turn away from the Duchess to stare at her daughter.
“Please do come and sit, my dear,” Mary Fenton said with familiarity. “Rosy, do show your manners and greet the Earl properly.”
Rosy flushed a bit at her mother’s words and held out a hand in Rob’s direction. “It is lovely to see you today, My Lord,” she said quietly. She tried not to gasp out loud at the frisson of pure attraction that leapt from his fingers to hers when he took a hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“Thank you for allowing me to pay you both a visit,” Rob said properly, but he thought that his heart must be beating loudly enough that both women would hear it. He felt Rosy’s fingers tremble in his grasp and drew some comfort from the awareness that she was not at all as confident and reserved as she appeared.
They all sat down and an awkward silence fell over the group. Rosy found that she could not bring herself to look at Rob again. All of a sudden he was too handsome, too close to her, too promising. She felt choked with nerves and thrumming with desire all at the same time. She knew that she should be trying to hold a conversation but she simply did not trust her self-control enough to do so.
“Well,” Mary Fenton said finally, rising to her feet and brushing her skirts smooth. “I shall leave you two for now. I will not be far away if I am needed.” She smiled kindly at Rob and glanced at her daughter’s bowed head briefly before leaving the room.
Rosy heard the door click shut behind her mother and felt a sense of relief at being without the company of someone who was possibly even more eager than she was for this meeting. She willed herself to look up at Rob and say something. She did manage to raise her eyes to his face but once she met his gaze she found that intelligent thought deserted her.
Rob felt the thrill of pleasure that washed over him when Rosy raised her dark eyes to his and he waited a moment in the hopes that she might say something. The silence drew out between them for another few beats before Rob decided to break it. He could not stand the pleading look in her eyes and he knew that his nerve would only hold for so long.
“Rosy,” he said quietly, leaning forward on the settee and placing his elbows on his knees. “I have come to ask a favor of you.”
She frowned a bit at this, but her focus was drawn away from her worry for the moment. “I don’t understand,” she said to him.
Rob sighed and glanced away from her and nodded. “I am not making myself very clear, am I? Let me try and explain.” He reached out a hand to her and she shyly placed her small palm within his larger hands.
“I find myself in a bit of a conundrum, Rosy,” he said to her, smoothing his hand over the back of her smaller one gently. “You likely know through the gossip of society and things that I have discussed with Matthew and Alex that my title is old but not terribly prosperous.”
Rosy tilted her head to one side and nodded. “Indeed,” she said quietly.
Rob sighed and returned to stroking her hand. “Just so. Well, as it turns out, I find that my finances are growing more and more difficult of late. I am being faced with the decision to try and sell off some of my holdings or find a way to supplement my income through another means.”
Rosy nodded. “That makes sense to me, Rob. I am not sure what all of this has to do with me, however.”
Rob smiled kindly at her. “It has everything to do with you, my dear. You see, I find that I need to take a wife who might bring with her a dowry that will help me save my family estate.”
“Ah, I see,” Rosy said quietly. She searched Rob’s face and saw apology there as well as embarrassment. “This is not such a terribly surprising solution, though. It is done all the time.”
“Yes, that is true,” Rob replied quietly. He smiled wryly at her. “I just had always hoped that I might offer myself as a suitable husband for the woman of my choice rather than being forced to come to her with my hat in my hands to ask her to save me from ruin.”
Rosy chuckled. “I am sure that the situation is really not that dire, Rob. However, I do understand your feelings on the matter.”
Rob looked at her quietly for a moment, then said, “I assume that you know I would not be telling yo
u all of this simply to share my secret with someone.”
Rosy felt her breath catch in her throat a bit. “I suppose not, no.”
Rob smiled at her gently. “You see, Rosy, I would not have come to you to ask for your consent to marry if I did not believe that we would suit. I simply do not think it fair to ask you to be my wife without explaining to you the realities of my situation. If you are willing to overlook this very large short-coming of mine, I think that we might find ourselves very happy together.”
Rosy felt her head spinning a bit. This was nothing like the way that she had always imagined she might be proposed to. It was not romantic and was instead rather sad and practical. And yet, Rob had said that he wished her to have the entire truth about his situation and she knew that most men of his stature would be too embarrassed or too full of their own importance to consider her in such a fashion. She also thought that she felt a wealth of desire and affection in the caress of his fingers on hers which was not reflected in his words. She looked down at their clasped hands and felt her heart rise in her throat as emotions tumbled through her.
“I shall only say yes on one condition,” she said softly, hearing the words coming from her mouth as if someone else was saying them.
Rob squeezed her hands briefly. “Name your price,” he said fondly, his voice warm.
She raised her eyes to meet his, a hint of tears making them shine brightly in her beautiful face. “Do you believe that you might come to love me? I have always said I should never marry unless it was for love.”
Rob was silent for a moment, searching her face. Her cheeks were flushed with emotion and he thought that he saw tears standing in her pretty eyes. He remembered the waves of her long hair cascading over her shoulders in the park and the glory of her fury and how it had made her seem larger than life. Lastly, he thought about the wayward and reckless passion he had shared with her at the ball and how he knew that he had never wanted a woman so much in all his life. A smile spread across his face and he said to her, “I am quite certain that I shall.”
