As it happened, Rosalind came across her sister, and Mr. Trevor, quite by accident on her way to the parlor. She stopped short as not to be seen by them, keeping to the far side of the corridor.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Clare played at resisting her captor, mildly protesting, interspersed with giggles.
“I am helping you don your cloak, my girl. I have no wish for you to grow cold.” Mr. Trevor faced Clare, holding the neck of the cloak, and led her to the doorway of the parlor. “And then I am going to kiss you soundly.”
Obviously the two were sharing a private, intimate moment and Rosalind had no intention of disrupting their coze.
“Trevor! If you continue to behave in this way there’ll be no berries left for Rosalind and Mr. Freddie.” She had stopped resisting and stroked his face.
“I don’t need berries. We’re practically betrothed.” He bussed her cheek, one side then the other. Then he pleaded, “Must you leave?”
“Yes, dear, I must.” Clare wrapped her arms around her beloved’s neck. “Never fear, I shall return soon.”
“Not soon enough. Are you certain I cannot accompany you? I want to, you know. The idea of not seeing you for hours on end is quite unbearable.”
“You are not yet strong enough. The journey is much too strenuous. When you are better then I will happily welcome your company.” She smiled up at him. “We must part, just for now.”
“Your absence will be sorely felt. You know how much I dearly adore you?”
“Yes, I think I do.” Clare tilted her head and Trevor enveloped her in his arms and kissed her, just as soundly as he had promised.
Rosalind stepped back and leaned against the wall quite breathless and unwilling to witness her sister in such an amorous embrace. That was not how Freddie had kissed her yesterday. Their kiss was soft, gentle and full of promise.
How would she feel sharing such a heated, near-betrothal type of kiss? Rosalind wondered if that was what she could expect the next time they met under the mistletoe.
After Clare’s departure, Rosalind continued to the parlor. She thought she would make good use of the time until Freddie’s return by practicing her half of the four-hand piece. Freddie, who was by far a more skilled musician, had plenty of opportunity whereas she had not.
Rosalind found it difficult to concentrate. It was not the image of Mr. Trevor kissing Clare as much as the thought of Freddie kissing her with the same fervor. But after several hours Rosalind settled to the task before her and felt confident in her performance.
Approaching footsteps, male footsteps, sounded in the corridor. Freddie had returned! Rosalind stood and moved to the door to meet him, glancing in the direction she believed he would appear. Wringing her hands, she could hardly stand the suspense of seeing him once again.
Then he appeared. His dark hair was tussled, his cheeks reddened from the cold, and in his rush to find her, he neglected to straighten his cravat so it sat a little askew. To Rosalind he could not have been any more handsome.
“At last!” he said. “I feel as if I’ve been waiting forever.”
There was no polite curtsy or bow; Rosalind held her arms open wide to welcome him. He responded in kind, walking straight into them, fully embracing her.
“I am so very glad to see you.” Rosalind squeezed her eyes closed, relishing his touch.
“How are you feeling? You look well.” He stepped back, breaking their contact to have a look at her.
“I am quite well, thank you.” Rosalind had never had a man fuss over her in this way. She smiled and moved into the parlor.
“I have much to tell you.” He kept hold of her hand and followed. In a few long steps he was leading her. “We should sit. Would you like to sit? Yes, let’s do sit.”
Oh, he did sound serious, and Rosalind wasn’t sure she liked it.
“Tea? Would you like some tea?” He stepped before the sofa where they both settled.
“No, thank you.” She sensed his mounting discomfort.
“I could call for some tea for you, it would just take a moment,” he offered again.
“Freddie . . . I am fine.” And he acted as if he were very nervous.
“Freddie . . .” he whispered and his smile widened. “You called me Freddie.”
“Yes.” Rosalind glanced away feeling a bit self-conscious about using his Christian name. He had asked her to do so and she thought it would be appropriate when they were alone.
“Well, let’s see.” He took a moment to organize his thoughts. “First off, I visited the Walshes, the Renfields, and the Kerrs and they are all well. They all appeared pleased to see me and asked about you. I said that you were staying indoors for a few days and they ought not to worry.”
“That was kind of them to be concerned. Thank you for putting them at ease.” There was a moment of quiet and Rosalind wondered if one of the many things he wished to discuss with her was something difficult.
Freddie gazed at her wide-eyed and swallowed hard. “Rosalind, dearest, I wish you to know that you mean so very much to me.”
“I, too, care for you, Freddie.” Now Rosalind was certain the difficult part had something to do with the two of them, and it was becoming worrisome.
“There is nothing more I want than for this moment to last forever.”
Was this to imply this affection between them was about to end?
“This should be a joyous time when we confess our mutual feelings and admiration for one another, should it not?”
Rosalind had tempered her glee. She had sensed too well that unpleasantness waited just around the corner.
Freddie did not wish to hurt her. If he was correct about her feelings for him, it would devastate her to learn he was the very man she so heartily despised. In hurting her it would, in turn, gut him. He had no wish to harm her but continuing his lie would not serve any longer. It was now time to tell her the truth. But how would he go about it?
He took up her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. “I want to tell you how much I care for you. I love you.” Freddie felt every heartfelt word. “It is my wish for us to marry. Of course I must ask your father’s permission first, but I dare not approach him until I know if you will accept and I have my doubts if you will have me after you learn the truth.”
“What could be of such great importance that would make me not wish to marry you?” He could see her trepidation ebb and joy return in her expression.
Could she not imagine the very worst thing he might say to her? Could she even guess?
Freddie would have to say the words out loud and watch her reaction. He would see her glow of affection turn to revulsion and disdain. Nothing could be worse than that.
“There are the tenants, your friends and neighbors to consider.”
“I suppose we could not marry, then leave, could we?” She turned away from him to think. Of course they could not. Her marriage would not solve their problems, and she could not abandon them.
“I have a solution.” He paused before saying it. “The Earl of Brent.”
“The Earl of—” Rosalind’s voice rose and became very sharp. “How do you think he might help? He has never shown an ounce of concern since he acquired the property. What makes you think he would do so now?”
“Uh . . . as you know there is a connection between us. It is much stronger than I had allowed you, or anyone else, to believe.” Freddie eased into his confession. If only she were not so disagreeable when it came to His Lordship.
“Do you imagine your influence with Lord Brent so great he would take notice of the tenants?”
“I do.” Freddie knew for a fact he already was concerned and was willing to go through a great deal of effort to improve their living situation, their quality of life, and the entirety of life on the Penshaw estate itself.
“I had no idea you thought so highly of yourself.” She pulled her hands free from his. “It sounds almost as if you two were one and the same, and that I would find very disturbin
g.”
“I have no wish to lose your esteem or good opinion,” he replied in desperation but dared not take the next step and tell her she had been exactly right on the matter of the two being the very same person.
“I cannot be dispassionate when you speak of His Lordship. The wrongs he has rendered on his people I cannot forget.”
“No one is asking you to forget. Perhaps you can forgive, welcome, and encourage his support in the estate when he offers it.”
“That is so far out of the realm of possibility, I cannot fathom how I would react.”
“Very well. I suppose that is all I can ask is that you ponder the supposition of Lord Brent’s presence and his intervention.” Freddie felt satisfied that he had taken the first steps by introducing Lord Brent into their lives. He would move closer to admitting the truth at the next possible moment, when he felt she would no longer spew fire and venom at the mention of his name. There was no doubt he was treading in dangerous territory.
Rosalind glanced skyward. As happy as she was to see Freddie a few minutes earlier, their conversation had taken a downward turn. As far as she was concerned any talk of the Earl of Brent was a waste of time.
Rosalind turned to leave; she needed some air to clear her head . . . calm herself.
“Where are you going?” He sounded puzzled and perhaps he was a bit confused at her cool demeanor.
“I beg your pardon but discussing that man upsets me.” She regretted lashing out at him.
“I know. I am sorry.” He neared and rubbed her arms to comfort her. “I have one last item on my agenda but I think you will find this more to your liking. I hope so, anyway.”
“What would that be, sir?” She gazed up at him and it amazed her just how much staring into his face, into the face of the man she loved, calmed her.
Freddie pointedly looked above them, at their position under the mistletoe, and drew her near very slowly to him.
For a kiss . . .
He was going to kiss her. The image of Mr. Trevor kissing Clare surfaced in her mind. The memory caused her face to warm. The thought that she might share the very same kiss with Freddie sent the warmth from her cheeks downward to her neck and spreading to the rest of her body.
He cradled her arm in his and brought her near. He stood so very close she could hear him breathe.
Rosalind felt very strange, a bit dizzy. She had feared she might do something silly such as swoon . . . again. Freddie leaned toward her and placed a lingering, chaste kiss on her cheek. Rosalind’s breath caught at the disappointment at feeling his kiss upon her face and not her lips. That was not the kiss she had dreamed of all afternoon.
Neither moved away from the other but remained close. Although she would not complain, she would take this opportunity to voice her dearest wish.
Rosalind met his unsteady gaze. What was he thinking? Of her? Of their kiss? Of another kiss, perhaps?
“Would you truly kiss me, Freddie?” she whispered.
Freddie smiled at her request. “I would never wish to take advantage, my dear, but it would be my immense pleasure to do as you ask.”
He guided her from the doorway and stood before her once again next to the window. By the trick of the moon he appeared otherworldly in the silvery light, draining all color from his face.
Rosalind steadied her breathing, feeling hesitant yet exhilarated. Her heart pumped wildly in anticipation.
Feeling a bit self-conscious about their behavior, in truth, hers, Rosalind said, “You must have kissed many . . .”
“There have been a few,” he admitted. “I must own that I have never been so entranced by any female.”
Her eyes closed slowly and his lips met hers. From their previous kiss, she knew this was how it started. The gentle pressure of his lips, warm and soft. They began to move beneath hers and . . . and the feeling . . . warmth began to spread inside her, upward from her torso. Rosalind never thought a kiss could feel like this.
She turned her head, breaking their contact to draw in a breath of cool air, and felt him press a firm kiss on her neck, and a lingering kiss on her cheek. She opened her eyes to see the green bough over the doorway.
“The mistletoe!” she said with a start. “It’s supposed to be bad luck to the household to kiss under a bough with no berries!”
“Never fear, my sweet.” Freddie produced for her a white berry.
“From where did that come?” She reclaimed the small token, keeping it for her own.
“The wreath, of course.”
“Is it the last one? For that would be too bad.” She gazed longingly at the bough.
“I will do a thorough inspection and check behind every branch, leaf, and needle. I’m certain there is at least one more to be found.”
Rosalind turned her head to gaze at him and smiled. “I certainly hope so.”
“Perhaps now, Miss Harris, we should attempt something more respectable.”
“What did you have in mind, sir?”
“What about that four-hand piece we are to play on Twelfth Night? We have had very little practice . . . at that.”
Rosalind demurred, feeling herself blush a little. “Speak for yourself, sir. I have been at the keyboard for several hours this day and I expect you will find that I am much improved.”
“I look forward to hearing you play. If you will be so good as to . . .” Freddie motioned for her to lead the way to the instrument and he would follow. Unfortunately, he had some difficulty with his legs. They felt a bit jelly-like and his knees buckled a bit, making standing more of a challenge.
How that kiss had affected him. Freddie had never experienced a more heavenly kiss, which made it ever more clear how truly, thoroughly, and deeply he loved Miss Rosalind Harris.
That was the crux of Freddie’s dilemma because he wanted, very much, more than anything, to marry her.
He had no doubt Rosalind would readily accept an offer from Mr. Freddie Worth but he was certain she would not think twice about turning her back on the future Duke of Faraday.
As certain as he was of his feeling for her and her feeling for him, Freddie knew without a doubt if he told her the truth now she would never have him.
Chapter Seventeen
Freddie and Rosalind practiced on the pianoforte together for another hour. Sitting side by side, she enjoyed talking, teasing, and flirting. There was something quite satisfying in playing a musical piece together, listening to the tunes twine and harmonize, something that was quite novel for her.
They shared the same rests and several runs of quavers that were met, as if by instinct, as if they had practiced far longer. Sharing his company, this very moment, felt almost magical and Rosalind wished she could stop time and have this last forever.
“I do not believe we could improve on that performance.” Freddie backed away from the keyboard. “You have underestimated your skill. Not that this comes as news to me but you are quite perfection itself.” He raised her hand to his lips for a kiss.
“You are being far too kind.” She smiled and could not prevent the audible sigh of satisfaction.
Rosalind adored the way Freddie smiled at her. At that moment she felt he could do no wrong . . . well, with the exception of bringing up His Lordship’s name again.
“I must give some credit to my fellow musician. After all, we play a duet.” She truly could not have done it without him.
“Point taken. I will gladly accept the accolades.” He stared into her eyes and she knew, not by experience but some inner torrent, that if they were left idle they would fall onto an amorous path that she was sure to enjoy, but eventually both would regret. Now was not the time for impulsiveness.
“I think it’s about time for Clare’s return,” Rosalind said. “I would like a few moments of her time before Mr. Trevor absconds with her.”
“Then I shall check on Mr. Rutherford before he is occupied with Miss Clare,” Freddie returned then smartly added, “The weather was nice this morning. Perhaps we can
take a walk outside if it continues to improve.”
“Perhaps I will practice the pianoforte on my own again instead,” she responded.
“Perhaps I will find a step stool and inspect that kissing bough for berries,” he threatened.
“Perhaps I will wait until you find one,” she retorted.
“Perhaps I will kiss you no matter if I find one or not,” Freddie stated with finality.
“Oh!” Rosalind stood and quickly moved away from the pianoforte. “You know that will bring bad luck to the house!”
“Very well, I think I best take my leave and find Trevor before you tempt me further.” Freddie stood and made a slight bow. “I bid good day to you, ma’am.”
“And to you, sir.”
Before parting, Freddie winked at her and Rosalind batted her eyelashes at him. She felt absolutely giddy.
Freddie left the parlor some minutes after Rosalind and the music stayed with him. He was, after all, humming the tune they had just finished twenty or so minutes back. Oh, and there was that smile on his face he could not remove and the little spring in his step. All in all, Freddie felt quite happy.
“Fred! Freddie!” Trevor came bolting out of the morning room. “There you are, Fred! Thank heavens. Here, Fred! Come in here, quickly!”
The whistling and the springing stopped. Freddie dashed down the length of the corridor, sliding to a halt in front of the breakfast room.
“Trev, what is it?” Freddie’s reaction to the terror in Trevor’s voice was instantly unnerving.
“What are we going to do?” Trevor, rubbing his temples and brow, mumbled to himself.
“Trevor?” Freddie hoped, really hoped, his friend was overreacting. “What are you going on about? Is it Clare? Has something happened to her?”
“Clare? No, no. Not Clare but . . .”
“Yes, yes, go on.” Freddie wanted to slap him or shake him, something to jar him out of his dithering.
“I was waiting in the kitchen for Clare. Standing by the window, keeping an eye out for her. She said that’s where she would be returning, with Harry and the sled.”
A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6) Page 14
