“Kirtland was your fiancé. What could you have said?” He paused. His voice got quieter, so that Rose had to lean forward a bit to hear him. “He had your affection. It was he who you wanted to marry. Not me. And it was because of that that it took me longer than it should have to figure out that it was, in fact, Kirtland who was the mastermind behind the gambling scheme.”
He paused to allow her to go through the open French doors before him. He had waltzed her over to the other side of the room, and now led her outside to the garden.
Rose felt as if her head were spinning, but she walked out into the fragrant garden. It was filled with beautiful colored lanterns lining the walkways. St. John’s hand was still on the small of her back as he guided her to one of the more remote corners of the garden.
“Georgiana was the one who told me that she thought Kirtland was more than he seemed. It was her suspicions that made me realize that it wasn’t just my jealousy speaking—but that there was, in fact, a reason to be suspicious of him.”
“Lady Mirthwood knew it was him?”
“No. She didn’t know anything about my investigation. She just knew that there was something about Kirtland that made her feel uncomfortable. She is an excellent judge of character, you know.”
“But he made me feel uncomfortable too. I thought...” Rose could not finish her sentence. She had thought that that feeling meant that she was in love. But now she was beginning to realize that love did not have to be uncomfortable.
In fact, she thought it could be very comfortable indeed.
“You think a great deal,” he said quietly.
St. John was standing very close to her now. His warmth beside her made Rose not only feel comfortable, but safe and secure. She wanted nothing more than rest her head on his shoulder and feel him wrap his arms securely around her.
“Too much,” she agreed.
He bent down and very gently pressed his lips to hers.
Immediately, Rose felt a rush of tingles through her body. Warmth followed, welling up in her breast. Without worrying about what he would think of her, or whether or not she was doing the right thing, she allowed herself to just relax and kiss him back. She found that she needed to wrap her arms around his neck and hold onto him—just so that her knees wouldn’t completely give way.
It felt so good, so right to be in St. John’s arms.
Perhaps this, too, was love? This warm, wonderful feeling of being with a man who didn’t put her on edge, but instead took the edge away and made her feel treasured and comforted.
“Rose,” St. John said, when they finally separated. “I know you were in love with Lord Kirtland, but perhaps...”
“But I don’t know that I was,” Rose interrupted.
“You don’t?”
“No. I told you, I needed to marry Lord Kirtland because he was wealthy. It was the only way for our family to be able to pay our bills. I know how he made me feel, but it was nothing like this, St. John. You make me feel... cherished... loved.”
St. John ran his fingers lightly down her cheek. “You do so much for your family. Don’t you think it’s time you did something for yourself instead?”
Rose looked down, focusing on the buttons of St. John’s coat. “My family means everything to me. And it’s expected…”
“Stop right there.” He placed a finger on her lips. “You are a sweet and generous person, but sometimes, my love, you need to think of yourself first and not worry about others.” He lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. “Like now. Say that you will marry me.”
Rose had to laugh and shake her head. This was one of the things she loved about St. John, he always saw the best in people. “I suppose my family can learn to manage with perhaps only a little help.”
“I’ll do what I can. But my heart is entirely yours.”
St. John’s lips pressed against hers once again, sending even more tingles down her body. She pressed herself even closer to him as he in turn drew her against him.
A discreet cough and a giggle made them jump apart.
“Er, thought you might be needing a chaperone,” Lord Merrick said.
“Or six,” Lady Merrick added, still giggling.
Rose felt her color rise as she realized that all of St. John’s friends and their wives were standing about, discreetly admiring the flowers and the colored lanterns.
“And I seem to remember a certain cousin of mine reprimanding me for hanging on my wife’s arm a few years ago,” Lord Merrick said, with laughter in his voice.
St. John too began to laugh. “Back when I didn’t know any better, I assure you, Cousin.”
“Well, at least they don’t always argue with each other,” Lord Reath said, giving his wife a significant look.
“Well, but he doesn’t try to manage her life for her at every turn,” she said laughing, as she reached out to take her husband’s hand affectionately.
“And they are both impeccably dressed,” Cassandra said.
“And can quote Greek to each other to their heart’s content,” Lord Huntley added.
“Yes, I think they make a perfect match,” Lord Merrick said.
“Shall we place a wager on it—perhaps over a hand of whist?” St. John asked.
“NO!” came the reply, loudly and in unison.
Rose laughed, looking adoringly at her handsome, witty, clever St. John, and took his hand firmly in hers. Hand in hand, they joined the three other couples, the sound of merry laughter warmly cocooning them all.
~~~~
St. John gave her one last adoring look before he turned to leave. He’d been so sweet to bring her and Aunt Farmington home and then walk them to the door. Both her aunt and the footman had been discreet enough to leave them alone to say goodnight to each other.
Just as St. John reached for the door, however, it burst open. St. John jumped back, just barely missing getting hit by the swinging door.
“Oh! Fungy!” Rose’s father bounded into the house. “Rose, good! Are your sisters still up as well? I got here as quickly as I could.”
“Sir?” St. John asked.
“Papa, what’s happened?” Rose said, coming forward.
“Call your sisters… no, I will,” her father said. He then stood at the bottom of the stairs and bellowed, “Graces! Come down, I’ve got news!”
“Er, sir? If I could have a word with you as well,” St. John said.
“Eh? Yes?” Lord Pemberton–Howe turned on him, but before St. John could say anything more, Laia and Thalia both came running down the stairs pulling on their wrappers.
“Papa!” Thalia said, ready to throw herself into her father’s arms.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Laia said.
“Oh!” they said in unison the minute the saw St. John standing there as well.
“Imagine you want to ask for my permission to marry my daughter?” Lord Pemberton–Howe said, smiling from St. John to Rose and then back again.
“Er, yes! But, how….?” St. John asked.
Her father just patted Rose on her cheek and said, “Knew you wouldn’t be so stupid as to marry that Kirtland fellow. I must say, I never liked him.”
He then went into his library, followed by St. John, the three girls and their Aunt Farmington who’d also come running at his bellow.
“I can’t say that I did either after the way he treated my sisters,” Rose admitted, “but we all thought he was wealthy enough to get us out of our troubles.”
“Yes, well, that’s not important any more, now is it? You can marry whoever you want, er, as long as it’s Fungy. I do like him,” her father said, laughing a little and giving St. John a hearty pat on his back.
St. John gave him a big smile and reached for Rose’s hand.
“Why is it not important any longer, Papa?” Thalia asked.
“Ah! Yes!” He settled himself into a chair by the empty fireplace. “I have been to Pemberton, just as I told you... er, I did tell you that that’s where I was going,
didn’t I?”
“You mentioned it briefly before leaving,” Rose said.
“Yes? Well, that’s where I was. Turns out that steward of mine, Mr. Strate, was not so straight after all. He’s been fudging the books for the past ten years, and making a tidy profit on it too.”
“Oh, no!” the three girls gasped.
“Oh, my lord, what did you do?” Aunt Farmington said, sitting down in the chair opposite his.
“I had to go down, naturally, and catch him at it. Squire Thompson and I managed to find most of the money Strate had squirreled away.”
“But that’s wonderful!” Rose cried, moving forward, but still holding on to St. John’s hand since she just couldn’t bear to let him go.
“No, Rosebud, it is not just wonderful, it’s fantastic!” her father said excitedly, leaning forward. “It means that we now have enough money to pay all of our bills and more! And it means you can marry your young man here without a care.”
Lord Pemberton–Howe sat back again, smiling at his dumbfounded family.
“It is fantastic,” Rose agreed, blinking rapidly. She turned, and in front of her entire family, leaned forward and gave St. John a kiss on his smiling lips.
If you enjoyed this, you’ll love Julian’s story:
An Exotic Heir
Weaving a web of revenge can be satisfying, but dangerous to your heart.
London society is shallow and cruel, sending Cassandra Renwick running to Calcutta, the exotic seat of the British Raj. It’s a fascinating place filled with interesting sights — including the dark and mysterious Julian Ritchie. But she never thought that an even greater heartbreak could be here in this alien and enchanting land.
Julian has always been discriminated against for being only half English. Embittered, he plots an intricate plan for vengeance with the innocent and lovely Cassandra as his pawn. But he soon finds that payback can be painful for the avenger as well when the threads of revenge unwittingly turn into the silken bonds of love.
Here’s an excerpt:
Calcutta, November 1810
Julian Ritchie entered the ballroom with his usual self–confident swagger. This night was going to be different, he told himself.
He didn’t know what it was that made him think so. Indeed, he had entered many a ballroom before thinking the very same thing, only to be severely disappointed.
But tonight there was something in the air—something magical. It was going to be a good night.
He stopped for a moment just inside the door and took in the ballroom. The brilliant colors of the ladies’ dresses and the officers’ uniforms warred with the vibrant colors of the flowers which were everywhere overflowing from sconces on the walls and in vases on every surface. The smell filled the room. It made for a very nice change from the street smell of spices and animals that always seemed to hang in the air.
And then there were the people themselves. All of Calcutta’s English society was here. Everyone who was anyone had been invited to Miss Renwick’s coming–out ball. He could even see a few prominent, wealthy Indian gentlemen present.
Julian had been a little surprised that he had been invited, but then, everyone in his office had been on the list of invitees. It would have been too obvious a cut if he alone had been left out.
Besides, he believed his employer, Sir Lionel Renwick, rather liked him, despite the fact that his wife loathed the sight of him. He suspected Sir Lionel had insisted on Julian receiving an invitation. Lady Renwick certainly would not have issued one otherwise.
Julian took a deep breath and headed for the first group of people who were standing and chatting nearest the door.
“How do you do, Mrs. Hurst, Miss Hurst,” Julian said, bowing to the two ladies.
Adelaide Hurst turned around, gave an imperious sniff and then turned her back on him once again. Her daughter, Anne, did little better, managing a small nod in his direction before turning back to her conversation.
Julian did not let their reactions bother him. He moved on, slowly strolling about the room and nodding to people who deigned to notice his existence.
He stopped outside a few different groups of people whom he knew, but they always closed their ranks against him just as he approached.
He found Sir Lionel in conversation with the Governor–General, Lord Minto.
“Good evening, sirs,” Julian said, bowing to them.
“Ah, Ritchie,” Sir Lionel said, nodding to him, “I am happy to see you could make it.”
“Good evening, Ritchie.” Lord Minto gave him a very brief smile and then turned back to his conversation with Sir Lionel.
Well, it was the warmest welcome he had received all evening, Julian reasoned.
He turned toward the dance floor. The dancers hopped and skipped about as they executed the complicated steps of an English country dance.
But his gaze was held captive by the young woman at the head of the line. She was dressed in white and staring directly at him.
Julian couldn’t help himself. He stared right back.
She was beautiful.
There was an odd sensation in his stomach. As if a fire had been lit somewhere inside of him. Heat began to rush through him as he watched her.
She was like a porcelain doll. Her creamy complexion set off by just a little flush of color on her cheeks from the exertion of the dance. Her eyes were the color of the sky and her hair the color of the sun.
If her mouth was a little too wide, or her nose a little too small, he could not say. To him, she was perfect.
But why was she looking at him, of all people?
And don’t miss Meredith’s Paranormal Regency Romance,
Magic In The Storm
Morgan is trapped and powerless.
The seventh child of the seventh child has always been a girl. Until Morgan Vallentyn was born. Because he’s male he can’t access the magical powers that should have been his. In order to attain his destiny, he first has to escape his home and find the source of his power — in the most unexpected of places.
Adriana would give up everything for her freedom.
Born to paint the natural world with unprecedented passion and vision, Adriana Hayden is bound by the laws of Regency society to her scheming guardian. But after meeting the handsome and mysterious Morgan, her world begins to open to enchanted possibilities she never could have imagined.
The only way to fulfill their destinies is for each to unlock the powers of the other — through the magic in the storm.
Here’s an excerpt:
May, 1815
Adriana Hayden didn’t even have to turn around. The quiet click of the door closing and the sigh of the sofa were all that she needed to hear to know that her dearest friend and companion, Henrietta, had come into the room.
She finished dabbing the black paint onto her canvas before stepping back and deciding that she had probably put too much. Well, she didn’t care. It was perfect and it reflected her mood so precisely Adriana imagined she wouldn’t even need to say a word to Henrietta.
She would paint the whole thing black if it wouldn’t ruin what was turning out to be a rather nice depiction of a stormy sea. The water thundered, crashing with violence onto the rocks at the base of a sheer cliff. Menacing clouds hung overhead within moments of letting loose a torrent of rain.
“Oh dear,” her companion said quietly, over the roar of the sea in Adriana’s mind.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment to stop them from stinging and then swallowed down the anger that had risen to the top of her throat again. “They wouldn’t even let me see him,” she said, without preamble.
“Who wouldn’t?” Henrietta asked.
Adriana turned around into the quiet of the room. Henrietta was sitting, as always, with her back perfectly straight and her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked ever so slightly under the worn, comfortable sofa. Her brown hair was pulled up so tightly Adriana wondered that it didn’t hurt, but her hazel eyes spoke volumes of symp
athy, for which Adriana was grateful. Adriana resisted the urge to run up to her dear friend and throw her arms around her.
Instead, she lifted her chin and replied, “The clerk at Sir William’s establishment.”
“So you didn’t even get to see Sir William? You didn’t show him your work?”
Adriana shook her head and turned back to her painting. Carelessly, she dabbed more black paint on where it wasn’t needed, darkening the sky even further.
“But that’s not right!” Henrietta said, full of indignation for Adriana. “What reason did he give?”
Adriana couldn’t even bear to turn around to face Henrietta again; the hurt was still too painful. She bit her lip to keep herself from either screaming in rage or crying like a thwarted child. She swallowed hard, again. “The clerk told me that he was certain that my watercolors were very pretty, but Sir William Agnew did not deal in a young lady’s dabbling. He only sold the work of true artists.” She paused at Henrietta’s gasp, but then continued. “He suggested that I give my work to some handsome young gentleman in the hope that he will marry me.”
“No, he didn’t!”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why, the nerve! The gall! The temerity of such... such...”
“A man,” Adriana finished for her.
“An imbecile is what I was going to say.”
“Perhaps they are one and the same,” Adriana said, allowing her mouth to quirk up in a little smile.
Henrietta just harrumphed.
Adriana turned around and attempted to put a real smile onto her face. How was it that Henrietta always made her feel better? No matter what had upset her, Henrietta always slipped herself right up under Adriana’s hurt and pried it away.
“It’s all right, Henrietta. I’ll just try someone else. I don’t have to sell my paintings through Sir William. I’m certain there are plenty of other art dealers who will take a look at my work.”
“But Sir William is the best,” her friend argued.
“Yes, but another dealer will be able to sell my work just as well. He may not get the prices Sir William could command, but at least we’ll get the money we need.”
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