His Colonial Rose

by Vanessa Brooks

Rose and Eloise stepped out of the front door and onto the London streets. They carefully avoided the horses and carriages, falling into step with other people out for a stroll. The crisp autumn air reached under Rose's hat and twirled wisps of hair around her face. She giggled as Pippin's woolly white locks waved in the breeze. He fell into step beside her and the little group soon found themselves beside the large frozen pond in Kensington Gardens. Eloise removed herself to sit on a bench and rest while Rose let Pippin do some sniffing.

  It was relaxing and beautiful in the Park amidst the autumn colours. Unable to swim because of the ice, the huge white swans meandered around the pond edge. They were so beautiful that Rose felt that she must be in a dream, their stark white feathers set against their black faces made them seem rather magical. Perhaps they are from another time and another place, Rose mused. She was summarily startled when Pippin decided to attack one, Rose dashed forward quickly and bent down to pick him up. The daft creature had no idea that a swan that size could kill him! When she straightened, Rose noticed two men deep in conversation under a tree nearby. Pippin began to whine and wiggle in her arms. "Shhh, Pippin, be still," she whispered. Thankfully, for once, the dog complied.

  The men looked very familiar to Rose and she stepped behind a tree so as not be noticed. Squinting, she was surprised to see Benedict, Lord Mortimer, deep in conversation. His brows furrowed as he spoke with a man that Rose recognized from her early encounter with Benedict outside the dressmaker's. It was one of the friends who had accompanied him on that day.

  Oh, if only she didn't have Pippin with her, she could get close enough to overhear their conversation. Rose thought that a chipmunk skittered past and before she could detain him, Pippin violently wiggled down and dashed away. Rose let out a squeal. If he got away from her in Hyde Park she would never be able to catch him again. Benedict glanced up at her sudden shout and saw that Pippin was headed his way. Rose screamed, "Catch him, Benedict!"

  He made a valiant dive for the dog but Pippin managed to dash just outside of his reach. The leash dragged loose behind him, Benedict made a successful grab. "I've got you now, you wretched little mutt." He stood, brushing down his knees as his friend looked on, clearly with some amusement.

  "I say, old chap, you've some quick reflexes there!" Thomas Wiggington jovially called out. Benedict grunted as Rose hurried up to relieve him of his burden, the ever naughty Pippin.

  "You've saved me once again, Benedict. I was taking Pippin for some air when he spotted a chipmunk. I wasn't paying attention and he got away from me. Thank you so much."

  "I am glad to be of service, m'dear, but there are no chipmunks in Britain. That was indeed, a very English red squirrel." Benedict handed her Pippin's leash and stepped back beside his friend. "Rose, this is Mr. Thomas Wiggington, Thomas, my fiancée, Miss Rose Randolph." Thomas gave a courtly bow and Rose responded by sinking into a curtsy. "Thomas was there the day your mutt bit me on the leg in front of the ladies modiste."

  "Ah yes, I do recall him. You laughed at me I believe, Mr. Wiggington."

  "I did laugh yes but not at you, ma'am. My apologies to you, Miss Randolph, if I have offended you but I assure you that was not my intention! It was simply a reaction to seeing old Mortimer here bitten by such a tiny dog!" Thomas Wiggington took Rose's hand and planted a kiss on the back of her gloved hand.

  Benedict turned to Rose and frowned. "Where is your maid, Miss Randolph, you are not out unaccompanied I hope?" Rose cocked her head to one side, should she poke the bear in his den? Why not!

  "I fancied some air and Pippin needed exercise, so I decided to stroll to the Park, now where's the harm in that, Mortimer, dearest?"

  Thomas Wiggington gave a snort. "I say, Mortimer, you are marrying a complete hoyden and by gad, sir, she will ruin you!"

  Benedict's eyes narrowed dangerously as he scowled at Rose. She took a quick step backwards, flummoxed, whatever was the matter with her? She knew exactly what happened whenever she poked her Benedict bear and she really did not want a repeat of the painful consequences!

  Rose gave a high nervous giggle and waved a hand over in the direction of the frozen pond. "Eloise is sitting down and resting by the pond. Really, Benedict, you are most trying and so easy to tease!"

  Benedict's brow cleared and he grinned. His wolfish smile made Rose feel weak at the knees. "Darling, I can always depend on you to keep me trying and one day I actually hope to succeed!" Rose blushed at his flirting innuendo.

  "Come, I will escort you home to Wilton Crescent and you can offer us both afternoon tea and scones."

  Thomas shook his head, "Not me, old chap, I must be away to my club I'm afraid. I am glad to have made your formal acquaintance, Miss Randolph, and my heartiest congratulations on your upcoming nuptials! Good day to you, Mortimer!"

  As they strolled back together to Wilton Crescent, Eloise walking behind them, she thought that they looked the epitome of a tonnish couple. They were dressed in the highest mode of fashion, a perfectly matched pair, he tall and dark, she fair and petite.

  "What colour are the chipmunks, Rose?" Benedict asked interestedly.

  "Hmm, well let's see, they are brown and they have dear little stripy faces and bushy tails but not quite as bushy as your squirrels seem to have. I was amazed by the size of that swan though."

  "Yes, the males are rather intimidating are they not? They are bad tempered creatures and can snap a man's wrist with a single blow from their neck. Did you know that every swan in England is owned by the King?"

  Rose was intrigued. "Really? Are they all cared for and fed in the winter by the King's men?"

  Benedict smiled and said, "They are all cared for by the Park Keepers, on behalf of the Crown, yes, but I wouldn't call them the King's Men exactly." They walked along in companionable silence and then Rose asked Benedict curiously,

  "What were you and Squiggleworth discussing before I arrived?"

  "Squiggleworth?" Benedict grinned.

  "Yes, it suits him, don't you think?" Rose turned her large impish green eyes up to him and Benedict chuckled.

  "Squiggleworth and I are planning to remove a certain viper from our bosoms, nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, Rose."

  Rose blushed prettily.

  When Benedict left the warmth of the Randolph residence later on that afternoon, he reminded Rose that she was to come to tea on Friday and to skate with him the following Saturday. The Thames had frozen over at last and the winter markets had set up business on the frozen river. It was a sight to behold and one that Benedict wanted to share with her. Rose was thrilled by his invitation and intrigued at the idea of a market on the ice-bound river. Her trust in Benedict was growing but it was still only held by a gossamer thread.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday saw the first significant snows of winter. It was November now and the mellow days of autumn had given way to chill and frosts of winter. Benedict continued to be frustrated in his courting efforts. Mayhap, today, Rose would be in a more amenable mood. He poured himself a sherry and pondered over the last couple of months. Rose was sweet and utterly without guile, every thought that crossed her head was written across her face as plain as day. This was a quality he absolutely adored in her, the practiced artifice of the women of the ton were just the opposite.

  Rose was like the first fresh breeze of springtime. She responded to his kisses with passion and Benedict knew from experience there was fire under that sweetly veiled façade. The fact that she always seemed to be pulling away from him bothered him though. She would respond to his kisses and even give as good as she got, but the moment the kiss was over, a wall would spring up as if something unresolved remained between them. Rose was intriguing and frankly, she was the first woman who had ever resisted his advances. This was a new experience for Lord Mortimer. Rose Randolph and her resistances made him desire her all the more.

  Benedict's mother entered their London drawing room. She huffed out her frustration, "My dear son, your fiancé
e should be arriving at any moment. Please speak with her about the problem I am having with the modiste Madame Emmerson? She wrote to me just this week and the situation simply has to be resolved for we are running out of time here. Madame Emmerson told me that Rose doesn't care for a trousseau. Good heavens, I've never met such a girl before! I am sure that I am glad the girl is not impressed by the trappings of wealth alone, but she must be fitted with dresses worthy of her upcoming station in life and the social demands that will be placed upon her as your Countess."

  Benedict gave a sigh. "I don't suppose the King realized what he was engaging me in when he decided to wed me to a colonial, Mother. Can you imagine the amount of money Margaret would have run through had the King been funding a marriage with her as the bride?"

  Beatrice rolled her eyes and quickly crossed from the room. "Enough said, dear, I will never question the lovely Rose again. However, Margaret would have come to you with her trousseau completely intact."

  Benedict scratched his chin, his little miss was indeed an enigma and one he was determined to solve. He hoped this afternoon would go well. When Rose arrived at the Mortimer's London house in Brunswick Gardens, she immediately launched into an appeal. She was nearly in tears. It seemed her father had taken her on a carriage ride past Westminster Abbey.

  "Benedict, please, I simply can't be married in such an enormous place. It is so huge. I would die if I had to walk down an aisle in front of all those hundreds of people! I beg you, cannot we be married in a simple country church, please?"

  Benedict tried to be patient. "Come sit by me, my dear." He patted a spot on the seat beside him and Rose sat down. "I am a peer of the realm, Rose, and you are going to have the title of Lady Mortimer. Being married at Westminster is simply the way things are done, King and court will expect this." The trembling of Rose's bottom lip moved him and he sighed again. "Very well then, since you feel that strongly about it, I will ask permission for the wedding to be held in the family chapel at Merriton House. What Mother will do about the enormous guest list though, I have no idea!" Rose crawled upon his lap and kissed his cheek. Benedict pulled a sour face.

  "Is that all I get for having to make a request of the Lord Chancellor himself?" Rose innocently wriggled her bottom and hesitantly kissed Benedict on the lips. He gritted his teeth against her movement as she drew back and gazed at him with a wide eyed stare. He could barely hear her whispered thanks.

  "Thank you, Benedict. I shall never forget that you did this for me." He couldn't stand it. She was so earnest he felt sure that she was going to break his heart.

  "Good heavens, madam, you would test the very saints themselves." Benedict very gently leaned in for another kiss. He didn't want to scare her off his lap. Her mouth was so sweet, it was better than the best French champagne he had ever tasted. His tongue moved lazily in and Rose leaned against him and sighed into his mouth. As soon as the kiss was done, Rose shoved him away and crossed to look out the window. Benedict frowned. He was determined to find out the cause of her continued resistance to him.

  "Rose, have you come to accept our upcoming nuptials?"

  Rose immediately changed the subject. "Benedict, Madam Emmerson, the dressmaker, insists I spend inordinate amounts of money on a trousseau. It is completely ridiculous. Father had beautiful dresses made for me when we first arrived and you have provided wonderful winter clothing for me. Enough is enough. I will concede to a dress for the wedding but beyond that I do not wish to waste precious coin."

  "Do not try and change the subject, Rose." Benedict shook his head and crossed to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and rested his forehead against the back of her head. "I have already heard of Madam Emmerson's complaints. There cannot possibly be a lady to be found in this world who is as reticent as you are to spend coin." He turned her in his arms, "Rose, you will do as I order you and I command you to submit to Madam Emmerson. Certain things are expected from you as my Countess." He dropped his hands. "I will concede the venue, but if I find out that you are continuing to act the pauper, I shall turn you over my knee again and spank your lovely bottom."

  "Act the pauper!" Rose spluttered and pulled away, stamping her foot. Benedict leaned back and crossed his arms.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. "What the deuce? Did you just do what I think you did?" Rose took a step backwards. Benedict's nostrils flared and he leant forward. Rose retreated in kind and stepped behind the settee where she thought he couldn't reach her. She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. Stamp went her little booted foot once again. Benedict's face darkened as he jumped up and took off towards her at a run. Rose turned and rounded the harpsichord. Benedict was fast but he was big, and inside a house overstuffed with furniture, he was not as nimble as she. As Rose flew past a table set for tea, she picked up a buttered scone and let it fly. Benedict saw it coming and ducked… why the cheeky little minx!

  Just as she was about to throw open the double doors to escape him, Benedict swooped down upon her and tossed her over his shoulder. Rose let out a scream that raised the roof. Beatrice and Roberts both came running into the room. The parlour maid flew in from the other side of the room and Imogene's light footsteps could be heard rapidly approaching from up above.

  Benedict turned, with Rose still over his shoulder, and roared, "Everyone out of the room now!"

  The crowd that had hurried to her rescue, quickly disbursed. Beatrice was overheard by Benedict to say, as she intercepted Imogene. "Everything is perfectly fine, dear. Leave your brother alone with his fiancée for now."

  Benedict returned to the settee and dropped Rose over his rock hard thigh. She continued her efforts at escape and even attempted to pinch him on the calf. Benedict tossed her skirts over her head and brought his hand down to bear on her behind.

  "Don't you dare..." Rose cried.

  Benedict reached down and grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back with one hand. "Oh I dare and just so that we are clear, Rose, you are being spanked for stamping your foot in defiance and for throwing a scone at me. I will not tolerate such rude behaviour from you. Do you understand, young lady?"

  "Ah!" shouted Rose, "I insist that you let me go at once!"

  Whack! A blistering smack fell across her nether parts. "Ouch… stop it, Benedict!" His large palm fell again.

  "You will desist and submit to your punishment." Benedict let three more burning smacks fall upon her rounded behind. Rose began to slump over his knee. Her effort to get away did not hold much enthusiasm now, three more stinging smacks fell before Rose began to cry. Benedict stopped his chastisement.

  Tossing her skirts back down, Benedict settled Rose into his lap and held her close. He smoothed her hair and hushed her weeping. "I don't want to have to do that again, my darling, but you simply must learn to obey me. I cannot have you stamping your foot and throwing scones whenever you disagree with me, 'tis not seemly." He tilted her chin so he could look into her tear drenched eyes. "Do you understand, my darling?" Rose nodded slowly but the look of utter wretchedness did not leave her face, prompting Benedict to speak solicitously. "Please tell me what is wrong, my love. What really has you so upset this day?"

  Rose laid her head on Benedict's shoulder and began to sob. He patted her back and kissed the top of her head. This wasn't about that little spanking she had received; something else was troubling her deeply and Benedict was determined to get to the reason why.

  "Rose, you and I are to marry in less than a month. You may trust me. I know that there is something wrong. Perhaps it is the marriage itself or something that I have done. Whatever it is, we will face it together. You must share your thoughts with me otherwise I can do nothing to help."

  Rose cried even louder and buried her face turned into his jacket. She grasped his lapels and held them in a death like grip. A muffled voice answered, "I'm fine, I am perfectly fi-ne." Benedict pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her pert nose.

  "You are not perfectly fine, my dear and I would kno
w the cause of your distress."

  "Thank you for the kerchief," Rose hiccupped as she spoke. "I am fine, Benedict. It's all just… a little overwhelming for me. You are a wealthy man, why, you're practically the King. I'm a simple country mouse." Rose stood from his lap and ran her fingers over the expensive side chair. "In the Colonies, everything is precious because most things must come to us upon a ship all the way across the sea. I'm not used to such niceties as you have here, Benedict. I don't think I'll ever get used to the ease and richness of... well everything!" She crossed to a second side chair and ran her hand across the back. "I am so certain I will never fit in here, Benedict, never." She looked up at him with such complete sorrow. "I am afraid that you will have to get used to that." A tear made its way down her cheek and Rose angrily brushed it away. "I'd like to go back to my house, now if you please. I'm very sorry for stamping my foot and throwing a scone at you, it was most unladylike I know… in fact, I admit that I deserved to be spanked."

  Benedict stood and tutted kindly, taking Rose into his arms. He crushed her to his chest and turned her face up to his. "Rose Randolph, please don't worry about fitting in here. You and England will adjust and one day you will wake up and find that you belong. There is nothing wrong with belonging in two different camps, my dear. Give it time, Rose, give it time, my darling." His lips came down upon hers and he attempted to kiss away the sadness from her eyes. Rose allowed his kiss but she not respond with her usual fervour. When he pulled away, she gave her betrothed an abashed smile.

  "Benedict, please could I return to my house now?"

  Benedict left the room and called from the hallway up the staircase, "Imogene, come fetch your cloak and muff, if you wish to accompany Rose and I back to her house. We are leaving right now if you want to join us!" A door slammed upstairs and then the slap of Imogene's silk slippers could be heard as she descended the staircase into the hall.

  Benedict took Rose's cloak from Roberts and carefully wrapped her up warmly in it. He thought that she looked like a lost little girl standing in the huge lobby. If the vastness of Benedict's London house threatened to swallow her up, how small must she feel at Merriton Hall. For the first time, Benedict began to get a sense of what Rose must feel like. He looked around at the home he had known all his life. It never crossed his mind to look at it from the perspective of another person not accustomed to power and luxury. He wrapped his arm around Rose and gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.