Iain didn’t press the subject, for Lady Penford was right—Ireland would be difficult for Lady Rose, or any bride for that matter. He stood beside the matron, wondering if he had pushed Rose too far already. Despite the neglect of Lord Burkham, she still wanted to marry the man. But he questioned whether she loved the viscount. A woman who had given her heart to another would have rejected his advances . . . but instead, Rose had kissed him back.
She’d accused him of behaving like a pirate, and it wasn’t far from the truth. He had stolen the kiss without asking. But her skin had been so soft, her scent alluring. He’d been unable to stop himself from the embrace, and he felt no guilt at all. Lady Rose was a beautiful woman, one who tempted him badly.
A good man would stay away from her. Let her win back the heart of her viscount and find happiness. She would never be content in the life he had to offer—even if her dowry was enough to restore Ashton to its former beauty. It was best to let her go.
Iain had already decided to stay a little longer in Yorkshire, helping Rose learn to walk again. And during that time, he hoped she could teach him everything about London society. The mutual agreement would be to their advantage.
“Lord Ashton,” came Lady Wolcroft’s voice from the doorway. “I am glad you could join Iris and me for tea. We have much to discuss.” She turned behind her and said, “Stop lurking in the hall, Lily, and come join us.”
Lily sent her grandmother a pained look, but joined them in the drawing room. She chose the seat farthest from everyone else, as if she hoped to make a hasty escape.
“You, too, Rose.” She waved at the footman, who carried Lady Rose into the room.
Given the size of this gathering, Iain was beginning to wonder if teatime would turn into an interrogation. He held out a chair for Rose and then one for her grandmother. The ladies sat, and when Calvert passed Iain, he glared at him.
Lady Wolcroft eyed her daughter with exasperation and removed the crown of daffodils from Lady Penford’s hair. “Really, Iris, you are no longer six years old. Your hair should be pinned up as suits your age.”
The matron appeared confused and troubled by her mother’s proclamation. “But I only thought—the flowers—”
Lady Wolcroft tossed the daffodil crown onto the hearth, where the flowers shriveled in the hot coals. “Nonsense. We’ve no time for such frivolity. We must plan our strategy for London. Rose and Lily need new gowns for the Season, and those will take time. But I daresay we can be ready within a fortnight.”
Lady Penford watched the flowers as they burned, her face filled with dismay. But she accepted her cup of tea when her mother handed it to her. Lady Wolcroft had already begun discussing her plans for introducing Iain into society.
“Lady Arnsbury will help us, of course. And my dear friend Amelia, the Countess of Castledon. You met her the other evening. She’s already gone to London, but I will send word when we’re there.”
“London will be wonderful to visit,” Lady Penford interjected. “I do so love it there. So many parties, and it’s never dull.”
“You cannot go with us, Iris.” Lady Wolcroft stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. “You would embarrass both of your daughters, and I cannot allow that.”
Lady Penford looked down at her tea, her cheeks flushing. In a low voice, she murmured, “No, I wouldn’t.” But Iain suspected no one heard her.
Though he understood Lady Wolcroft’s desire to protect her daughter, he saw the rise of tears in Iris’s eyes. He felt bad for her sake, for no one wanted to be left behind. From across the room, he saw the look of dismay on Rose’s face. And perhaps he was overstepping his bounds, but he offered, “I see no harm in Lady Penford traveling to London, so long as she is feeling well. She could remain at home and that would allow her to hear all the stories from Lady Lily and Lady Rose.” It was a compromise, and the matron sent him a grateful look.
But Lady Wolcroft would have none of it. “And what if she runs into the streets, shrieking about imaginary wolves? How do you think that would affect their chances of marriage?” Her mother grimaced at the idea. “Or perhaps Iris might try to fly off the balcony and break her neck.”
“No,” Lady Penford whispered. “I promise. I would never do such a thing.”
“You certainly tried to, just over a week ago,” her mother retorted. “Or so your daughters said.”
Lady Penford appeared stricken by the announcement, and she looked down at her hands.
Iain leaned to her side. “Don’t let it trouble you, Lady Penford. That matter is over and done with. It won’t happen again.”
At that, Rose sent him a grateful look. He nodded, holding her gaze with his. I won’t let anyone harm her.
“Lord Ashton, I understand that you are attempting to be kind,” Lady Wolcroft continued, “but my daughter, though I love her, is not fit to be out in society anymore. She cannot go paying calls with a crown of daffodils, thinking herself to be Queen of the May. Nor can she wear her hair down or attempt to speak with any families whose sons might offer for Rose or Lily.” With a hard look toward Iris, she added, “It would not be good for any of us.”
He disagreed with that. Imprisoning Lady Penford alone without her family might have the opposite effect. Loneliness and grief might push her further over the edge. He glanced over at Iris and could see the anxiety rising in her expression.
“I would never do anything to threaten their chances of making a good marriage,” the matron insisted. She tried to tuck in a wayward lock of hair with a pin, but it only unraveled once again.
“It isn’t finding a good husband that worries me, Mother,” Rose leaned in and admitted. “It’s simply that . . . there are far more dangers in London than here.” She seemed torn between her mother’s wishes and the possibility of Iris hurting herself.
But Lady Wolcroft had not finished. “None of you understands the greatest danger of all. If Iris has even one difficult spell in public, we cannot protect her. She will be taken to a lunatic asylum, where God only knows what would happen to her. It is far better if she remains in Yorkshire where she will be safe.”
Iain had heard of the terrible conditions in the asylums, and he glanced back at Rose again. What do you want to do?
She could only shrug and shake her head.
Lady Penford pushed her teacup back and stood. Her hands trembled, and her eyes were filled with tears. “Since you have all decided my fate, I suppose there is no reason for me to remain here.” To her mother, she added, “Apparently I am six years old, for all that anyone else can see.”
With that, she departed the room. Rose turned back to her grandmother and frowned. “You didn’t have to be so abrupt with her. She was having a good day.”
“She’ll forget all about it in an hour,” the matron predicted. She set her cup to the side and regarded all of them. “I regret, Lord Ashton, that you had to witness our family disagreement.”
Lady Lily offered him a sandwich, and Iain accepted it. “While I understand your desire to protect Lady Penford, leaving her behind might cause her to fall into a deeper despair.” He hadn’t missed the looks of dismay from her daughters.
“Be that as it may, we must leave her.” Lady Wolcroft straightened in her chair and sipped at her tea. “Iris is far too ill to return to London. If she were in her right mind, she would agree. There is no sense in harming her daughters’ chances at making a strong marriage.”
The older woman spoke with the authority of one accustomed to getting her way. But her granddaughters appeared uncomfortable at the notion.
Iain met Rose’s gaze. “What are your thoughts, Lady Rose?”
With a resigned sigh, she admitted, “I suppose the best course of action is to delay our travel to London. You may go on without us, but I prefer to wait a little longer. I might be able to walk again, if I keep trying.”
Her grandmother grew impatient, as if Rose had suggested that she was learning to fly. “There are many widowers who would not care. Some o
f the older gentlemen who already have heirs might consider you for a wife.”
“I would rather not wed a man old enough to be my grandfather,” Rose pointed out. “I am not quite that desperate.”
“You are three and twenty, Rose,” her grandmother reminded her.
“Practically ancient.” She rolled her eyes and then turned back to Iain. “But I suppose I could get an offer from a gentleman.” The knowing look in her eyes held a note of humor.
It was almost a challenge. Iain touched his mouth briefly, never taking his eyes from her. It was a silent reminder of their kiss, and a faint blush stained her cheeks. No, she hadn’t been immune to his embrace at all.
“You might gain a marriage offer,” her grandmother agreed, “but it will not be from a gentleman of the ton, Rose. It may be a long time before you can walk again, and you will lose out on your childbearing years. You must lower your expectations.”
She kept her gaze fixed upon Iain. “I never lower my expectations.” With that, she steadied herself and slowly stood up from the chair. The women’s conversation ceased abruptly, and they stared at her in amazement. Iain couldn’t help but smile. He knew she had stood with his assistance, during the rainstorm, but he hadn’t known she could stand on her own now. She must have been practicing every waking hour.
“You stood up!” her sister exclaimed. “When did this happen, Rose?”
She gave a slight smile. “I told you I would learn to walk again. And this is only the beginning. The next time I go to London, I intend to dance with Lord Burkham. Everyone will know they were wrong about my illness.”
Her grandmother’s eyes held a trace of wonder, and this time, there was a genuine smile. “What a lovely surprise. I am quite pleased for you, darling.” With a shrug, she added, “I suppose a fortnight will not matter. We may as well give you the chance to continue your healing. It may make a great difference in finding a man to wed.”
Rose eased herself back into the chair, and the relief on her face was evident. Even standing for such a brief period of time had exhausted her. But it was indeed a start.
Iain raised his teacup to her in a silent toast. Over the next fortnight, he hoped she would make further progress, until she could indeed walk again. Even if it was only a few steps, her grandmother was right. It would greatly improve her chances of finding the right husband.
Yet the idea of her returning to Burkham annoyed him. Rose deserved better than a man like him. Iain resolved that when they did go to London, he would ensure that she had every opportunity to find the husband of her dreams.
Even if it could never be him.
One week later
It was just after dawn, and her family was still sleeping. Rose stood beside her bed, holding herself balanced for several minutes. Each day, her legs were getting stronger.
Soon, she told herself. Perhaps even today, she might take her first step. She smiled at the thought, and her gaze moved toward a vase of flowers by the window. Lord Ashton had sent her a new bouquet of roses, and she loved the heady aroma. They wouldn’t last long, but the flowers made her smile.
Hattie came to help her dress in her riding habit, and asked, “Am I to ride with you this morning, Lady Rose?”
“No, not today. Just ask Calvert to bring me to the stables.”
Her maid nodded, and Rose let her believe that Calvert would be her escort. The truth was, she wanted to be alone.
Her legs needed to be stronger, and she hadn’t forgotten Lord Ashton’s suggestion about swimming. Although it wasn’t possible to immerse her entire body without the risk of drowning, she would try sitting upon the bank and kicking her legs. It might help.
After she was dressed, Calvert carried her downstairs and outside toward the stables. He instructed the coachman, Nelson, to saddle her mare. He also ordered Nelson to prepare his own mount, but Rose stopped him. “I am going alone this morning. I will return by midmorning.”
“It’s not safe, Lady Rose,” he objected. “You must have an escort or a chaperone with you.”
Ordinarily, she would agree. But she wanted no one to see her dipping her feet into the lake, particularly Calvert. Even Hattie would balk at the idea.
“I do not intend to leave the grounds of Penford,” she lied. “If I have need of anyone, I’ll simply shout.” She had made up her mind to sit near the water and exercise her legs. She had deliberately not worn any stockings, and her riding boots hid her bare feet. No one need know about this and there was no danger.
Her footman hesitated. “So you intend to ride through the grounds? And that’s all?”
She nodded. “Of course. And I’ll return when I need assistance dismounting.” Truthfully, she was already able to get down on her own. It wasn’t so very hard to hold on to the saddle and slide down. Though she couldn’t take any steps, she planned to ride toward the shore and sit near the water’s edge, near the large boulder. She wasn’t entirely certain if she was strong enough to pull herself back onto the horse, but she guessed she could stand upon the tallest boulder and use that for help. At the very worst, she could always call out for help if she couldn’t manage on her own.
The voice of doubt edged her confidence, for there were many disasters that could happen. The moment she tried to get off the horse, any number of things might cause trouble. She ought to bring Hattie with her. That was the sensible move, she knew. And yet . . . she was tired of being reliant on others for help. She wanted a few moments to herself to see what she was truly capable of. Only then would she know if walking was even a possibility.
Her time was running out, for they were leaving for London in one week. Rose was determined to take at least a few steps on her own before that time.
“Lady Rose, I cannot say I approve of this,” her footman insisted.
But she held firm on her decision. “I do not require your permission to ride, Calvert. If I wish to go, I shall. Now help me onto my horse.”
His expression was disgruntled, but he obeyed. The moment she was secure upon her saddle, Rose nodded in farewell, and urged her mare across the estate. She lifted her face into the wind, reveling in the cool air while the morning sunlight creased the edges of the horizon with rose and gold. It felt so good to be on her own, as if the chains of her weakness had shattered.
It felt so wonderful to be in command, to guide the horse where she wanted to go. Being on horseback granted her a liberty she hadn’t known she needed.
Undoubtedly, the water would be frigid this morning, but since she had no intention of submerging her body, there was no harm in it. Her feet might be cold, but then, that would be her motivation to move them.
Rose chose a secluded part of the lake where several large boulders lined the water’s edge. Then she drew her mare to a stop beside the largest stone. The animal was well trained, and held steady as she gripped the saddle and let her legs slide down to a standing position.
For a moment, she clung to the saddle, fighting for her balance. Then she took one step and promptly lost her footing. She fell hard on her backside, but thankfully, she’d managed to land close enough to where she was wanting to sit.
Using her arms, Rose pulled herself onto one of the flat boulders and leaned her back against the largest one. There. She had made it this far. If she could get her boots off, she could dip her feet in the water and slide down a little until her knees were submerged.
As she struggled with her boots, she thought of what Lord Ashton would say if he saw her now. The man had been polite during the last week, and not once had he treated her any differently than a friend.
Which was as it should be. But she couldn’t deny the twinge of disappointment as she remembered that breathless kiss. Was that what it was meant to be like, kissing a husband? Never in her life had she experienced such a heart-pounding moment. She’d felt the kiss over every inch of her body, the tremors rising over her sensitive flesh. It was seductive, beckoning her closer. She shouldn’t have allowed it, but she’d been powerles
s to resist him.
It only proved the point that Lord Ashton was indeed a very dangerous man.
When her riding boots were off, she eased herself down until her toes were in the water. The icy water was numbing, and not at all comfortable. But in time, she adjusted to the cold and moved her ankles back and forth. It was a start.
Rose couldn’t see the bottom, but it wasn’t surprising. This part of the lake had a steep drop-off. Some of the children from the village liked to dive off the boulders into the pool.
She moved a little closer, until her calves were in the water. Again, she continued exercising her legs, kicking them in the lake. It took more effort than she’d imagined, but she persevered until exhaustion set in. She was beginning to understand why Lord Ashton had suggested it. This was an effective way to keep building up her strength.
When she decided that she’d had enough, she dried her legs and tugged her boots back on. Then she whistled for her mare.
The horse obediently trotted forward, and Rose reached for the reins. She was feeling good about what she’d accomplished, and spoke quietly to the mare as she stood up on the boulder. Her knees were shaking from her earlier exercise, but she held herself balanced as she reached for the saddle. All she had to do was get one foot in the stirrup, and she could pull herself up the rest of the way.
Rose struggled, using all her strength, but still couldn’t manage it. She tried to use one arm to lift her leg into the stirrup, but her balance faltered.
She tried again and finally managed to get one foot in. But when she tried to pull herself up, holding the reins, the horse perked up at a sudden sound. The mare jerked her head, and Rose lost her balance, tipping wildly.
“No, oh, no!” she cried out, before she fell backward off the boulder and her back hit the water. The frigid cold took her breath away, and the heavy riding habit and boots dragged her down. The icy lake submerged her, and she fought to stand up.
The water was deeper than she’d remembered, and it came over her head. When she tried to gasp for air, her mouth filled up with water. She could swim, but both the sodden wool and the heavy boots were weighing down her body. With a tremendous effort, she plowed her arms through the water, reaching for the boulder. She wanted to weep with relief, until she realized that she lacked the strength to pull her body out of the water. There was no true handhold, and even the embankment was steep.
Good Earls Don't Lie Page 15
