“Many women like a man who is more like a pirate than a gentleman,” Rose offered. “Someone not so refined.”
He wasn’t certain what to make of that. “You’re calling me a pirate?”
“Well, no. Not exactly.” Her eyes narrowed at him thoughtfully. “It’s simply that you may be . . . quite different from what the ladies of London have come to expect. You’re a little rough around the edges.”
He said nothing, but her words struck an invisible blow. Aye, he didn’t know proper behavior. But she surprised him when she reached over to touch his arm. “It wasn’t my intent to offend you, Mr. Donovan.”
“You didn’t.” But she had rightfully pointed out that he wasn’t at all ready to blend into society. He lacked the social graces of an earl, because he’d been left behind all those years.
“I could help you,” she offered. With a warm smile, she added, “That is, if you turn out to be the earl and not a liar.”
“And what do you believe, Lady Rose?”
Her deep brown eyes studied him with interest, and she squeezed his palm. “I believe there is far more to you than anyone knows.”
Chapter Six
Her words startled Iain, for he didn’t believe that. His own mother believed he was hardly worth notice and had hidden him away for years. Yet Lady Rose suggested that there was more to him? Not at all. He was simply the only one left to do what needed to be done. He kept his hand upon hers for a moment, waiting for some sign of teasing.
But no, she was in earnest. Iain didn’t know what to think of her remark, for they were hardly more than strangers.
“Next time, don’t forget to wear gloves.” She smiled before taking her hand from his. Then she let out a slow breath and pointed toward the end of the road. “We are almost there. What do you plan to say to Beauregard?”
Her abrupt turn of conversation redirected him back to the matter at hand. He had given the matter some thought already. “We are inviting ourselves to tea, and if Sir Lester is in residence, I will ask him if he has seen my signet ring or the letter among Beauregard’s belongings.”
Rose hesitated and gently suggested, “Will you allow me to try it my way first?”
Her way? And what way was that? Iain eyed her with suspicion. “Are you intending to ask prettily in the hopes that he’ll give them back?”
“Wait and see.” And with that, she urged her mare forward, leading him up the road toward the small estate. The baronet’s land was smaller than his own estate at Ashton, but the two-story house was large enough to boast a dozen rooms, he guessed. The lawn was green and a gravel pathway led up to the stairs. A split-rail fence lined the outer property boundary, and beside the house, Iain glimpsed a fishpond and more gardens.
He couldn’t help but be intrigued by Rose’s interference. Women were, by nature, more cunning. What did she plan to say or do? The serene look on her face gave no indication of her intentions. He had planned to be forthright with the boy, but it seemed that Rose had subtlety in mind.
He wasn’t accustomed to relying on anyone but himself. It was unsettling to step back and let her take command, but Iain wasn’t foolish enough to ignore her offer. Rose knew the baronet and his son, and she appeared confident that she could get what she wanted.
And if she couldn’t, well then, he could step in and demand the return of his belongings.
When they reached the entrance to the house, Hattie dismounted and knocked upon the door. She announced their arrival to the butler, offering a calling card.
“Lift me down from the horse,” Rose murmured.
Iain obeyed, lifting her into his arms while a groom came to take their horses. She felt light, though her gown was barricaded with a whalebone corset and blue silk. Even holding her like this was foreign, for the only time he’d ever carried a lady in his arms was when he’d brought Lady Rose back to her bed. This was different. It felt as if he were carrying a piece of porcelain and at any moment, he might stumble and break her. But he couldn’t deny that it felt good to carry her in his arms.
“Can you stand?” he inquired softly, and she shook her head.
“Not yet.” Frustration tinged her voice, and he supposed he ought to feel guilty. Instead, he was glad for a few moments longer to hold her.
The butler invited them inside, and Iain carried Lady Rose over the threshold. “I have come to pay a call upon Sir Lester,” she said. “Is he receiving today?”
“I shall inquire,” the butler replied. To a footman he said, “Please show Lady Rose to the drawing room.”
There was no mention of Iain, and he wasn’t certain if it had been deliberate on Rose’s part. Possibly. He followed the footman into the drawing room, and she pointed toward the far side of the room. “I will sit over there, in front of the window.”
He deposited her into the chair she had selected. The drawing room was the color of a robin’s eggshell, with cream drapes and gilt furnishings. It reminded him of his grandmother’s furniture, delicate and ornate.
“Where do you want me to stand?” he inquired. He wasn’t at all clear on her plans, nor his role in them.
“You may sit over here.” She pointed to the chair beside her.
Iain sat down, resting his wrists upon the arms of the chair. “Why have you taken it upon yourself to speak with Sir Lester on my behalf, Lady Rose?”
She shrugged. “I suppose because I owe you a favor for saving my mother’s life. And because I would like to know what happened when you were attacked.”
Before she could say another word, the baronet arrived. Sir Lester was taller than Iain had expected, and reminded him of a heron. The moment he spied Lady Rose, his face brightened. “What a wonderful surprise, my dear. It pleases me no end to have you call upon our humble house.”
His dear, was she? Iain stood from his chair, feeling the sudden sense that he was intruding upon a private moment.
“May I present to you Iain Donovan, the Earl of Ashton?” She gestured toward him, and Iain inclined his head in greeting.
“Sir Lester.”
The baronet’s expression turned surprised, and he appeared uncertain of how to respond. “Lord Ashton. We have not met before.” His gaze swept over Iain’s disheveled clothing.
“No, we have not. Ireland is my home, and I only arrived at Penford a few days ago.”
“His coach suffered an accident, and many of his belongings were stolen,” Lady Rose explained. “Fortunately, your son, Beauregard, was helping him to recover them. We came to ask if more of his possessions have been found. Some of his friends tend toward mischief, I am afraid.” She shot the baronet an apologetic look.
A sly one, wasn’t she? Instead of accusing Beauregard of theft, she’d offered a compliment. It was an intriguing line of questioning.
“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Sir Lester remarked. “Beauregard left school without my permission. He will be returning soon, and I am not certain what he knows.” The baronet appeared uneasy, and he frowned.
“Would you be so kind as to bring your son to speak with us?” Lady Rose asked. “I am certain he could tell us whether or not he was able to recover more of Lord Ashton’s belongings.”
The baronet signaled to his footman and spoke quietly to the man, before sending him away. “I shall, indeed. Would you both stay for tea? I should be glad of your company.”
As the man spoke, his eyes rested upon Lady Rose. It was clear that the older man held her in high esteem and was interested in her beyond the level of friendship.
“I would be delighted to join you,” Lady Rose answered, “but we did not mean to intrude upon your hospitality.”
“It is an unexpected pleasure.” He beamed and gave orders for refreshments. Iain returned to his seat, making small conversation about the weather. He avoided any discussion of the troubles in Ireland.
Within a few minutes more, Beauregard arrived, a sullen expression on his face. The moment he spied Iain, he glared at him and wheeled to leav
e.
“Come back here this instant,” his father commanded. “Lady Rose and Lord . . .” He paused a moment, eyeing Iain’s attire. “. . . Lord Ashton have come to ask questions of you.”
Beauregard’s attitude made it clear that he intended to tell them nothing at all. He remained standing with one foot outside the doorway.
Lady Rose tried to send him a smile. “Beauregard, Lord Ashton is grateful that you managed to retrieve many of his belongings when they were stolen.”
The confused expression on the boy’s face was quickly masked. Iain stared at him, giving nothing away, but making it clear that he had best cooperate. “But a good deal of them are still missing,” he finished. Taking his cue from Rose, he lied, “We received your note saying that you found more of the lost items. I thought it best that we came at once to see what you have.”
His pointed look was not lost on the boy. But before Beauregard could deny it, Rose intervened again. “Sir Lester, I hope you do not mind if we accompany your son back to his room, so that he might show us the remainder?”
The baronet seemed uncertain about this. He narrowed his gaze upon Beauregard. “Not once did you mention this gentleman to me. And what’s this about his belongings being stolen?”
His son hesitated, as if wanting to deny it. “I gave him back his clothes and his horse.”
Iain crossed his arms and regarded the boy with a stern look of I know you have the rest.
“Is there more that I should be aware of, Beauregard Allen Wallace?” Sir Lester asked. His voice had gone hard, as if he was aware of his son’s misdeeds.
Beauregard glared at all of them, but finally fumbled in his pocket. “I found this.” He held out a gold signet ring, and never had Iain been more grateful to see his brother’s ring.
He took it from the boy and slid it onto his finger, no longer caring about the letter of introduction. The ring proved his identity, and that was all that mattered. When he looked over at Lady Rose, her expression remained neutral.
“Thank you,” he told the boy. Iain traced the engraved surface, relieved to have it back. “I am glad you found my signet ring. Was there anything else you found?”
“No.” Beauregard didn’t at all seem pleased, but with a nod of permission from his father, he left the drawing room, retreating for his room.
“Well, I must admit I am surprised,” Sir Lester said. After his son was out of earshot, he added, “My son, unfortunately, lacks discipline. Ever since his mother died, he’s been difficult. I had no choice but to send him away. This is the first good deed he’s done in a long while.” The man’s expression grew distant, and his gaze shifted back toward the door.
Rose leaned forward and smiled at the man. “He’s still a boy, isn’t he? And I suppose when he’s away at school, he misses his father.”
“I rather doubt that,” Sir Lester responded. “If he rolled his eyes any more at me, they’d roll out of his head and onto the floor.”
“But you’re the only family he has left, aren’t you?” Rose asked gently. “He may simply want to be at home.”
She went on to offer her sympathy, but while she spoke, Iain found himself caught by the softness of her tone. She saw beyond the anger of a young boy to the pain beneath Beau’s actions. Whether the boy had stolen Iain’s belongings or had merely happened upon them, he couldn’t be sure. But Rose appeared more forgiving than the lad deserved.
“Will you be traveling to London for the Season?” Sir Lester was asking Lady Rose. A footman had arrived with the tea and refreshments. Rose poured each of them a cup, and Iain declined cream or sugar.
She turned her attention back to Sir Lester. “My mother wishes to go to London, but she isn’t well right now. I do not think it is possible.”
“When she recovers, perhaps?” The baronet was clearly wanting Lady Rose to return to the city. “Have you no wish to join the gatherings? Even with your condition, I would think that you would prefer being amid the social circles and the other young ladies.”
Rose shook her head, wincing slightly. “I would rather not face society just yet. I am certain you can understand this.”
“Of course. But . . . if I may be so bold, does this mean that you have parted company with Lord Burkham?”
Iain’s curiosity was piqued. He leaned forward, wanting to know more about Lady Rose’s intended.
“No,” she answered. “I have reason to believe that he will offer for me, eventually.”
The baronet sighed. “Lady Rose, any number of men would be glad to marry you. That is, if it is your wish.” The smile on his face suggested that he wanted to be one of them.
“I do not think I shall marry for some time.” Her voice was calm, but beneath it, Iain detected an air of frustration.
“Lady Rose, do not let one man’s folly dissuade you from enjoying the Season,” Sir Lester reassured her. “Were I to have the honor of accompanying you to a soiree, rest assured, I would have no desire to leave your side.”
She sent him a weary smile. “You are very kind, sir.”
It was doubtful that kindness had anything to do with it. The baronet was besotted with her and made no secret of that fact.
But Lady Rose was not finished. “The truth is, I do not wish to return to London until I can walk again. And I do not know how long it will take.”
“Oh.” Sir Lester appeared startled by this revelation, but then he brightened. “Then you will be here, in Yorkshire. I would be glad to assist you in any way that I can.”
Though it was none of his affair, Iain didn’t miss the look of discomfort on Rose’s face. He wiped his hands upon a linen napkin and rose to his feet. “I must thank you for your hospitality, Sir Lester. But I should be taking Lady Rose home again before it rains.”
“I could drive both of you back in my coach,” the baronet suggested. “It would be no trouble at all.”
“No, thank you. I enjoy riding.” Rose dismissed the idea and added, “Lord Ashton was good enough to escort me here, so I will be fine. But if you would send word to your groom to prepare our horses, it would be greatly appreciated.” She sent him a nod, and with that, Iain lifted her into his arms. It gave him a slight satisfaction to note the discomfited expression upon the baronet’s face.
“It will . . . take some time for my groom to saddle your horses,” the baronet said. “Would you rather wait a little longer, perhaps?”
Lady Rose flushed, but she shook her head. “Thank you, but I really should be going. By the time Lord Ashton brings me outside, I will only need to wait a few minutes.”
Iain kept a firm grip upon her as he walked slowly toward the front door. “Please tell your son that I am grateful for the return of my ring. And if he should come across any other belongings—”
“I will have them sent to you,” the baronet answered. He walked back with them to the foyer, keeping his steps slow as if to delay their departure.
“Thank you again for the tea.” Lady Rose smiled at the man, and Iain took that as his signal to bring her outside. Her maid, Hattie, followed a short distance behind.
Sir Lester escorted them to the steps to bid them farewell, and Iain kept Lady Rose in his arms while he waited for their horses. The sky was brooding with more rain, and he hoped the groom would return before the downpour began. A slight breeze stirred against the moors in the distance, a portent of the forthcoming storm.
Fortunately, they only had to wait a few minutes more before the servant brought their animals. He helped both Lady Rose and Hattie mount their horses before he swung onto Darcy’s back.
“We’d better make haste,” he warned Rose. “We’re about to be caught in a storm.”
“Follow me,” she told him. Instead of riding along the pathway, she took an eastward direction. He had no idea what her intentions were, but he obeyed. Her maid glanced up at the sky with worry.
The sky grew increasingly darker, and raindrops spattered against Iain’s hat. But just as he heard the low rumble o
f thunder, Lady Rose led him through a forest grove along a narrow path. A brook ran parallel to them, splashing across the rocks. On the far side of a bridge, she pointed to a summerhouse. The stone structure was octagonal in shape with a roof and four window-shaped openings that were exposed with no glass. “We’ll take shelter there.”
He didn’t argue, though they could easily have returned to Penford by now. It seemed that Lady Rose wanted to extend their outing a little longer.
The maid shivered and said, “I’m right scairt of thunderstorms, Lady Rose. Couldn’t we go back?”
“As soon as the rain stops, we will.”
“But, it’s not so very far. We could be at Penford in a few minutes. Inside.” Hattie wrung her hands and huddled close to the horse.
“If you’re wanting to go back, go on then,” Iain told the maid. Though it was not proper to leave them unchaperoned, she was obviously terrified of the storm. He wouldn’t force her to stay.
“I can’t be leaving Lady Rose,” she protested.
At that, her mistress sighed. “We won’t stay long, Hattie, I promise you. But I should like to take shelter for a little while. At least until the rain slows.”
Iain dismounted and tethered his horse, before helping the women down. He carried Lady Rose inside the summerhouse and set her down upon one of the stone benches inside. The structure was not fully protected, but it was better than remaining in the pouring rain. The wind shifted, blowing a shower directly toward Rose, and she laughed, covering her bonnet with both hands. “This isn’t exactly keeping me dry, Mr. Donovan. Or am I supposed to address you as Lord Ashton now?”
He reached down to lift her away from the opening and carried her closer to the center of the summerhouse. Her eyes held merriment and she added, “This was not one of my better ideas.”
Iain only shrugged. “It will do for now.” He cast a glance over at Hattie, who was seated on the stone floor, her knees huddled up, with both hands covering her ears. Another rumble of thunder resounded, and she muttered to herself, “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.”
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