The Rogue's Flower

by Rose Pearson

  “Lord Radford, I...” she could not think of anything to say, her eyes flickering to his lips and back up to his eyes. Her heart burst open, letting the feelings and emotions she had been burying for so long spill out all at once.

  It was overwhelming.

  Without knowing what she was doing, Elsbeth let her arms drift up around his neck, his hair brushing the backs of her fingers. He was so close, so near to her, and Elsbeth felt her affection for him begin to grow and burn into something more. She had no idea what this meant or what would become of her should she continue along this path, but it was not something she could turn from.

  His head lowered and she accepted his kiss eagerly, her heart beginning to race as he held her close. There was no urgency in his lips, no pushing her onwards, just a gentle tenderness that told her she was safe in his arms.

  “Miss Blakely,” Lord Radford whispered, his breathing a little ragged as he broke their kiss. “What I wanted to say to you, I will say now. I feel a great deal for you, Miss Blakely, more than I have ever felt before. I believe myself to be in love with you, although I have been too confused to see it for what it was until this very afternoon. I have been afraid that you would turn from me if I spoke to you of what I felt, afraid that I would lose you from my life. I do not want you to be a governess. I do not want you to leave my house. I do not want to be parted from you. Say that you will stay, Miss Blakely. Say that you will be my wife.”

  It was such a swift and startling revelation that, for a moment, Elsbeth could not speak. And yet, as she looked into his eyes, she saw the worry there, the fear that she would refuse him warring with the hope that she would agree.

  She did not have to consider her answer. Lord Radford had become more to her than she had wanted to admit until now, until this very moment when she’d been forced to look into her heart and discover the true depth of her feelings. He would remain by her side, even if a thousand dukes came to claim her. With him, she was safe and secure, within his house she had found a home.

  “I will,” she whispered, before leaning in to touch her lips to his once more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thankfully for Andrew, his mother took the news of his engagement rather well, particularly when he mentioned that it appeared that Miss Blakely was somehow related to the duke. She declared that Miss Blakely was an excellent young lady and was clearly very good for Andrew, deciding that their marriage could go ahead without any protest from her.

  Andrew himself found an excitement deep within him that was growing steadily, the arrangements for their wedding being put in place within hours of his engagement to Miss Blakely. It was very strange to have the governess still working with Miss Amy within his home when she would soon be his wife, and so Andrew determined that she should no longer be in such a role, realizing that he would soon have to find another governess for Miss Amy.

  “Miss Blakely?”

  Walking into the schoolroom, he saw her look up at him, the room empty except for her presence. Her eyes lit up as he walked into the room, a smile on her face as a rosy blush hit her cheeks.

  He smiled back at her in return, taking her hand and lifting it to his mouth. “You are more beautiful than ever, Miss Blakely.”

  Her smile dazzled him. “Thank you, Radford. I think, since we are engaged, you are permitted to call me Elsbeth now.”

  “Elsbeth.” It felt good to be able to call her by her Christian name, making him all the more aware of the intimacy growing steadily between them. How much clearer everything was today, now that their future together was secured! He had no doubt that the love he had in his heart would continue to grow, their life together as one of nothing more than sheer happiness and contentment. He kissed her hand again before dropping it, slipping one arm around her waist and pulling her a little closer to him. “Elsbeth, I have decided that you ought not to be Miss Amy’s governess any longer. Nor, of course, should you be living in the governess’ quarters. I intend to have your things moved to one of the bedchambers near to my mother’s, although after we wed, you shall be in the room adjoining my own.” He chuckled at her slightly astonished expression. “I would not have you there now, of course, for propriety’s sake – although I think we have rather dashed propriety and expectation to the ground of late!”

  To his surprise, Elsbeth did not smile.

  “I do not want to be separated from Miss Amy,” she replied, slowly. “I will continue to be her governess, Radford.”

  His smile faded.

  “Not that I will not have my things moved, of course, which is very kind of you, but I cannot have my time with Miss Amy brought to such a hurried end – especially not when you have not yet secured another governess for her.”

  His gaze softened as he took in the worry in her expression, the clouding in her eyes. “You care for Miss Amy a great deal, do you not?”

  She nodded slowly. “I do.”

  “And I should not have presumed that you would be as willing as I to drop your position here,” he continued, realizing what he had done. “I should have guessed that you would stubbornly refuse to agree regardless.”

  He saw her eyes flare, her mouth open to protest against what he had said, only for a chuckle to escape him as she looked back at him in astonishment. Realizing that he was teasing her, Elsbeth slowly began to smile, looking away from him in slight embarrassment.

  “You can be with Miss Amy for as long as you like, my love,” Andrew promised, brushing his fingers down her soft cheek. “And then when the new governess arrives, you shall still spend time with her every day. I know she loves you and that you care for her deeply. I should not have expected you to simply step away from her merely because we are engaged.”

  Her eyes lit with happiness. “Thank you, Radford, for understanding.”

  “Although I will have to beg you to permit me to call the seamstress,” he said, grinning. “You shall have to have a trousseau, my dear, and I will not spare any expense in that regard. Can you at least be prevailed upon to have your measurements taken so that you might order some new gowns?”

  Her smile grew. “Of course, Radford. You are very kind.”

  Lifting her chin gently, Andrew shook his head. “Only because you have made me so, my love. I can take no credit for any of this.”

  A small sigh escaped her as he pressed his lips to hers, feeling her answering passion in the way she pressed her hands up against his chest, the softening of her body against his. Andrew could not recall a time that he had ever been happier.

  A sharp knock on the door startled him, forcing them apart. Taking a couple of steps away from her and waiting until Elsbeth herself had sat down at her desk, he called for them to enter – only to see his butler appear, looking rather harassed.

  “My lord, we have been looking all over the estate for you. Your mother is in something of a state. The Duke of Broadshore has arrived unexpectedly and is demanding to see Miss Blakely.”

  The bottom fell out of his world, draining away the happiness and delight he had felt only a few moments ago.

  “When did he arrive?” he asked, aware of Elsbeth’s gasp of surprise.

  “Fifteen minutes ago, my lord. I have put him in the drawing room and the Dowager Radford sent me to search for you. I do not believe the Duke to be in the best of spirits.”

  “Thank you. We will be along shortly. Meanwhile, please send tea trays and the like, to refresh the Duke.”

  He looked over at Elsbeth and saw the way she trembled, her fingers clinging to the side of the desk.

  “We must go and greet him,” he said gently, coming over to her. “I will introduce you as my betrothed so that the Duke has no doubt that your place is here. I will not allow him to scare you into doing what he wishes, Elsbeth. Perhaps, after all this, he may turn out to be a kind gentleman whose only wish has been to find you and reacquaint you with your family.”

  He did not believe what he said at all, aware that the letter from Miss Skelton and the exchange
his friend had heard between the Duke and Miss Skelton gave a very different picture of the Duke of Broadshore, but he was doing all he could to reassure Elsbeth, who was the very picture of fear.

  She took his proffered arm and rose from where she sat, her eyes fixed on his.

  “I will not leave you,” he promised, as they made their way from the room. “Unless, of course, you do not wish to be introduced? You can listen from another room if you prefer.”

  Halting in the middle of the hallway, Elsbeth looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

  Shrugging, he gave her a small smile. “There is a small adjoining door in the drawing room that leads to the music room. If it was to be ajar, then I am certain you could hear everything.”

  He waited for her to make her decision, seeing the way she considered what he had said before lifting her shoulders, drawing in a deep breath and fixing her gaze straight ahead.

  “No,” she said firmly, with more strength than he had expected. “No, I will not shirk from this. I have wanted to know about my family for years and I will not allow fear to hold me back. I am your betrothed and not even a Duke can prevail upon me to change my mind.”

  “And you are of age now to make up your own mind,” Andrew replied, a sense of pride filling him as he took her in. “You are a strong, determined young woman, Elsbeth. Just remember how you fought against me!”

  That, at least, brought a small smile to her face and, after a moment or two, she began to walk once more, her expression set to one of sheer determination.

  Walking into the drawing room, Andrew’s gaze was caught by a tall, spindly looking gentleman with a long grey beard and thick, bushy eyebrows that seemed to be in a permanent frown. He did not rise from his chair but rather looked at Andrew and Elsbeth with something like disdain, his lip curling slightly.

  Andrew felt his anger begin to rise, aware that his mother also had a look of similar irritation on her face.

  “The Duke of Broadshore, Radford,” his mother said, getting to her feet and taking Elsbeth’s arm so as to draw her to sit by her side. Andrew was relieved to see Elsbeth’s hand being looped through his mother’s arm, seeing the protectiveness rise in the Dowager. Clearly, she did not like the Duke of Broadshore.

  “Your grace, this is my son, Viscount Radford. And this is Miss Blakely.”

  “How do you do, your grace?” Andrew murmured, aware that the Duke’s attention was not on him but rather fixed on Elsbeth. “May I also say that Miss Blakely is my betrothed. We are to marry within a fortnight.”

  The Duke’s sharp, beady eyes flicked to Andrew for a moment before landing on Elsbeth again.

  “There will be no marriage,” he said, his voice low and thin, his lips flattening as he saw Elsbeth’s astonished expression. “I have other plans for my granddaughter.”

  Hearing Elsbeth’s gasp of surprise, Andrew forced himself not to go to her, choosing to remain standing. “Miss Blakely is your granddaughter?”

  “She is.”

  “And how long have you known?”

  Andrew turned to see Elsbeth gazing back at the older gentleman with such firmness in her gaze that a burst of pride soared through him. She was not about to quiver and shake beneath the man’s gaze, nor accept that what he said was true. She was finding the strength within herself to stand up against this man’s stern words.

  The Duke sniffed. “I have always known. Who do you think sends money towards your education?”

  Elsbeth drew in a breath, and Andrew fought the urge to put one hand on her shoulder. He had to allow her to do this herself. He could see the suffering in her expression, the way she had to take a moment to keep her composure steady so that she did not shrink in front of this man.

  “And I was never allowed to know of your existence?”

  Her voice was clear and steady and the Duke returned her gaze with nothing more than indifference. Andrew wanted to plant the man a facer, despite his age and status, more than aware that he cared not a jot for Elsbeth.

  “I did not think it necessary for you to know anything about your family,” the Duke replied, in a haughty voice. “After all, you were unwanted, and I had very little intention of ever revealing your existence to the world.”

  Elsbeth swallowed hard. Her hands were clenched in her lap, with the Dowager’s hand now settled on her shoulder. She was doing all she could to be strong, to continue to force herself not to give in to tears or the like, determined not to show any kind of emotion towards this man that sat there so arrogantly on the edge of Andrew’s sofa.

  “And why, might I ask, are you so eager to pursue an acquaintance with me now?”

  All eyes turned towards the Duke who, without even breaking into a smile, gave a small shrug. “It has become necessary.”

  “Why?”

  A long sigh escaped him. “I had a son, and one I chose to adopt as my own. One from my first marriage, the other from my second.” He leaned back in his chair, not even a hint of emotion in his words. “My first wife died in childbirth, but the child – my heir – survived. My second wife was a widow with, at the time, a very young son who I chose to adopt as my own, although she recently also passed away. I never for one moment thought that this adopted son would end up becoming the heir to the Dukedom.” Giving a slight sniff, the Duke paused for a moment, his gaze still fixed on Elsbeth. “My first son was foolish indeed, managing to die without doing his duty. He did not produce an heir but did, in fact, produce an illegitimate child. You.”

  Andrew’s hands curled into fists as Elsbeth lifted her chin, no shame in her eyes. She was not about to take any kind of blame for being illegitimate, as though such a thing was her fault. However, the Duke appeared to be blaming Elsbeth entirely, as though her very existence was the reason for his ire.

  “So therefore, this man you call your son – whose name I do not yet know – put me into the Smithfield Home for Girls.”

  The Duke’s face tightened into a sneering smile. “Well, given that my sister-in-law, the pious Miss Skelton, runs the place, I did not have much of a choice.”

  Andrew stared at the Duke, aware of the gasp of surprise that had come from both his and Elsbeth’s lips. “Miss Skelton is your sister in law?”

  The Duke’s sneer grew. “Yes. Reverted to her Christian name when my stupid brother decided to depart from this earth at a rather young age and leave her with nothing but a decent fortune. I believe she blamed the death of her husband on herself and thought to run the House for Girls as a way of making up for her sins.”

  “Her sins?” Elsbeth asked, weakly. “What sins?”

  Shrugging, the Duke appeared completely nonchalant. “I am not altogether sure, but needless to say my brother’s death was from his insistence on drinking too much and spending too much time away from his wife’s bed.” He sniffed again, his gaze darting away for a moment. “Someone pulled him out of the Thames and within a fortnight, Miss Skelton was in the House for Girls as the new owner. Not that I particularly cared at the time, but she certainly did prove useful when it came to finding you a place, Miss Blakely.”

  Andrew could not contain himself any longer. “And I presume ‘Miss Blakely’ is not her real name?”

  “Oh, it is real enough!” the Duke replied, throwing him a hard look. “Blakely is an old family name and it was put there on her birth certificate. Not likely that anyone would be able to trace her back to our family, however, especially since Miss Skelton assured me that she would keep all that under lock and key.”

  Elsbeth shook her head. “Miss Skelton always disliked me.”

  “Of course, she did,” the Duke replied, disparagingly. “You are illegitimate. An unwanted child. A mistake. A shame to our family that must be hidden. Miss Skelton, being as pious as she was, had nothing but dislike for you. She only put up with you because she was generously reimbursed for the trouble.”

  “And why ensure that I had a good living?” Elsbeth asked, her voice now growing hard as a flare of anger burned
in her eyes. “Why give me a good dowry? Why permit me to have the dowry as my fortune if I did not marry?”

  Something like irritation flashed across the Duke’s face. “You were never meant to learn of that part,” he replied, brusquely. “Miss Skelton was meant to ensure that you wed before the age of twenty-one but, if she was unable to find you a husband, then the fortune meant that you could make your own way in the world and she would no longer have the burden of your presence on her shoulders. I could have sent you to the poorhouse, of course, but there was always the chance that you might, somehow, discover where you came from and we could not have that. Besides,” he finished, with eyes that fixed on Elsbeth’s face, “I wanted to make sure that, should you ever prove useful, I would know where you were. As it is, you are to become useful to me once more. It seems those years at the House for Girls and the money spent on you have not been entirely for nothing.”

  Stepping forward, Andrew shook his head, his lips thin and jaw clenched. “You treat this wonderful young lady as though she were nothing more than a stain on your perfectly white gown. How dare you?!”

  The Duke lifted his gaze and fixed it on Andrew’s hot face, his lip curled. “That is because she is a stain, Viscount Radford. A stain that, unfortunately, I must now merge with the rest of the spotless white linen.”

  His anger bursting into life, Andrew made to step closer, only for Elsbeth to catch his hand and pull him back. Dropping his gaze to her, he saw her look up at him with anxiety in her expression, her hand holding his tightly.

  “Do not,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I have a home here now. None of this matters.”

  “It will matter, Miss Blakely, given that you are to come with me now, in order to marry.”

  Turning towards him, Andrew shook his head firmly. “Elsbeth is engaged to me. I will not give her up to another.”