Lucifer drew alongside but she kept her eyes fixed firmly ahead; she dared not look for fear of what she might see. They had been jogging for a while when he eventually broke the silence. “Look at me, Rose. I don’t care to view the back of your head.” His voice was soft, no hint of anger.
She risked a glance sideways. Her heart thudded heavily, she couldn’t look away. With infinite slowness he reached out a gloved hand and gently brushed an errant strand of hair from her eyes. His touch was so gentle she scarcely felt it.
“I have your ring here, my love; I shall give it to you before I leave.”
This was not going as it should. Why wasn’t he cold and distant? Jilting him would be impossible whilst he was like this. She had no choice. She must do something else to annoy him and make him forget the almost accident in the stable yard. She must remind him of her impertinence to the most senior members of the government.
“I don’t want the ring. I’m not ready to be married and especially not to you. You must keep it for someone more suitable.” There, she’d said it. Crouching over her mare’s foam flecked neck she urged the animal faster and faster. Galloping might ease the pain.
Inch by inch he closed the gap, but this time he didn’t allow her to race beside him. He stretched out and grabbed her reins, bringing both animals to a rearing halt. Before she could take evasive action, he lifted her from the saddle and dropped her to the grass. Her knees buckled and she sank ignominiously in a heap of blue velvet at his feet.
Tom arrived but hesitated, not sure if he should interfere.
“Here, take the horses and walk them. I shall call you when we wish to return.” The Duke stared down at her, his expression pensive. “Do you intend to sit there for much longer, my dear? I wish to talk to you and I think it better if we were alone, don’t you?”
She couldn’t speak; her words seemed stuck behind her teeth and her legs refused to unfold.
“Up you come.” He scooped her from the ground and set her on her feet. “I think the small copse ahead would be ideal for our purpose, don’t you?”
Her arm was threaded through his as if they were strolling around the ballroom at the Ponsonbys’, and willy-nilly, she was marched towards the trees.
Chapter Twelve
Rose was almost running in an effort to keep up and her trepidation was soon replaced by anger. She would not be dragged across the park like a recalcitrant schoolchild. She threw her weight backwards, digging in her heels, and he was obliged to release his hold on her arm.
Bracing herself for his tirade, Rose glared up at him. “Whatever you have to say to me, sir, can be said right here and right now.” She gestured at the empty parkland that surrounded them. “I don’t believe we are either observed or overheard.”
He sighed loudly. “If you insist, my love. You know I’m always ready to obey your instructions.”
This was doing it too brown. What was he up to now? “Fiddlesticks to that, sir! You listen to me as much as you do your horse.” His smile was her undoing. “I shall not apologise, so don’t ask me to.”
She stuck out her chin and forced her mouth into a thin line; he must not know how he affected her.
“I would not dream of asking you to, dear girl. Why should I object if you poke a stick into a hornet’s nest and upset the most important gentlemen in the government? Heavens above! There’s nothing I like better than being accosted by a bevy of furious politicians and having my evening ruined.” His bland tone did not fool her for one minute. He was leading up to something and she was most disconcerted, not knowing what he would do next.
She tapped her foot and tried to look unconcerned. “Well, my lord, if you have something pertinent to say, kindly say it. I do not have all morning to stand here.” His eyes changed colour; she had struck a nerve and wished she had held her tongue.
“I wonder,” he said as he looked round, “I wonder if I should turn you across my knee right here or go somewhere a little more secluded.”
She swallowed and stepped back. “I would much prefer it, your Grace, if you didn’t do it at all.” She would not beg his forgiveness. If he had decided to chastise her in this way then nothing she could say would deflect him.
He raised his arm. She did not flinch. Finger by finger he removed his gloves. His eyes held her captive, and her knees began to tremble. Then, instead of manhandling her he held out his hand as if in supplication. She couldn’t help herself. She stepped closer and placed her own in his. His fingers closed; she felt his strength, his warmth, but his hold was gentle.
“My darling, I could no sooner raise a hand to you, or any other woman, than cut my own throat. I apologise if I frightened you. I did not expect you to take me seriously.”
Somehow she found herself within his embrace but could not remember moving. “Perry, please, we are in full view of Tom and anyone else who might be riding in the park this morning.”
“Surely a young lady with such disregard for protocol and etiquette can have no objection to her future husband kissing her?”
His arms tightened. Her feet left the ground and a strange light-headed sensation all but overwhelmed her common sense. She must not let him do this. Drawing back her foot she lashed out. When her boot connected with his shin it had the desired effect and with a startled oath he dropped her. This gave her time to turn tail and race for the comparative safety of Tom and their mounts.
Her groom must have witnessed the whole for he was standing ready to toss her into the saddle when she arrived breathless at his side. “Leave Lucifer. Drop his reins, he will not stray far.”
Moments after kicking the Duke of Essex, she was galloping in the opposite direction. When they reached the main thoroughfare she realized the stallion was still with them. Injuring the Duke was one thing, leaving him to walk home quite another.
“Tom, you must take Lucifer back to his Grace. I shall continue to Grosvenor Square. I shall come to no harm at this time of the morning.”
However, each time he attempted to lead the stallion away from her mare he reared and lashed out. “He won’t budge, miss, I reckon as we’ll have to take him with us.”
“No, I’ll take him back myself.” There was no need to take Lucifer’s reins; he followed her mare willingly. Rose wished that love for her could tame his master in the same way. He was fond of her, perhaps found her desirable, but love her he did not.
In the distance she saw him striding across the turf and for a second considered turning back. She should not have kicked him; he was a gentleman. If she’d asked him to release her he would have done so immediately. Why was it she behaved so abominably when in his vicinity?
He saw her and stopped. To her surprise he raised a hand in greeting as if pleased to see her and not furious with her as she had expected. When she was within hailing distance he called.
“Thank you for coming back, my dear. These are new boots and decidedly uncomfortable.”
“I had no choice. Lucifer would not return without Orion. He is infatuated.”
A wry smile curved his lips and his eyes danced. “I’ve always said such emotions are dangerous…see how my magnificent stallion is humbled by your pretty grey mare.” He vaulted into the saddle and guided his horse to her side. “Shall we return home? I, for one, have had more than enough excitement before I have breakfasted.”
“I’m sorry I kicked you…”
“Apology accepted. I should not have tried to kiss you. I gave you my word I would not do so.” His expression changed. “I’m sure you agree, my dear, an excess of emotion of any kind can only lead to disaster. I believe we agreed a marriage based on affection, respect and mutual interests has far more chance of success than one in which emotions are involved.”
She ought to invite him to breakfast at Grosvenor Square but she had no wish to be alone with him. His words had crushed her happiness. He was so astute he would know at once she was distressed. She had no intention of burdening him with her secret. He would be embarrassed to k
now she loved him and it would make it so much harder to break off the arrangement.
They were at the entrance to the stable yard, a perfect time to say what must be said. She drew rein and turned in the saddle. This was the most difficult thing she had ever done in her life.
“I agree, your Grace, but I believe we do not have even those things in this relationship. We are too different. Even if I wished to marry you, which I don’t, I am unsuited to the position of Duchess of Essex. Therefore I am releasing you from the arrangement. My father will repay you for the money you have spent on my family’s behalf. I shall be retiring to the country so you have no need to fear we will meet again.”
Blinded by tears, she kicked Orion and the mare shot forward, almost unseating her. Tumbling from the saddle, she picked up her skirts and raced for the house. She was too overwrought to worry about his reaction. Fortunately the side door was ajar. She sped in, aware of the shocked faces of two parlour maids who were busy dusting the ceiling.
She hesitated at the foot of the stairs. She could not return to her apartment as Millie would still be there. The study—she would be private there and away from prying eyes. The room was cold. No fire had been lit today, but she was warmly dressed and would come to no harm for an hour or two.
Throwing her whip and gloves onto the nearest chair she paced the carpet, angrily brushing away moisture from her cheeks with the back of her hand. The first part of her plan was done. All that remained was to tell her mother and face the nervous hysterics her news would bring.
She watched rain drops trickle down the window pane. He would get wet on his return. She wished it had held off until he was safe inside. A slight sound behind her made her turn. Her vision blurred. A strange noise, like water rushing through a mill wheel, filled her head and darkness overwhelmed her.
She opened her eyes to discover she was lying on het sofa. He was at her side.
“Lie still, sweetheart; you fainted. I shall ring for your mother…”
Her vision cleared and she struggled to sit up. “Please, don’t do that.” She rubbed her eyes and shook her head, then swung her feet to the floor. “And I did not faint…”
His hateful chuckle filled the room. “No, of course you didn’t, my love. I expect you were overcome with fatigue and fell asleep unexpectedly.”
“I’ve never fainted in my life. Since I made your acquaintance, sir, any manner of extraordinary things have happened to me. Don’t you see we are not good for each other? Do you wish me to be fainting every five minutes?”
“Don’t be a ninny hammer. Why should this one occasion herald such a decline in your health? No, don’t get up; I shall send for refreshments. We have much to discuss and might as well do it here even though it’s a trifle chilly.”
This was the outside of enough. This was her house, he could not issue orders in this way. She pushed his coat to one side and jumped up—dodging nimbly passed his outstretched hand—only to find she wasn’t as well as she’d thought. Her head spun and she clutched a handful of his shirt to steady herself.
“Silly girl, sit down again until you feel more the thing.” Gently he guided her back to the sofa. Her legs were behaving as if she was an ancient matron not a young lady. She did feel decidedly odd; she closed her eyes and leant back. What harm could there be in allowing him to send for breakfast?
From what seemed like a distance, she heard him issuing orders. A few minutes later a clatter and rattle indicated the fire was being prepared. She relaxed. Having someone taking care of her for a change was rather pleasant. Since David and Papa had left last year it had been she who looked out for everyone else. Mama was excellent at taking care of her own needs but tended to forget everyone else, including her own daughters.
Soon welcome warmth banished the chill and she no longer needed the comfort of his coat. She thought she must have dozed; there was no sound. He had left her to rest. She yawned and sat up to find him sitting no more than an arm’s length from her. His expression was tender, as if he really cared for her welfare. On a side table stood a laden tray. The delicious aroma of strong coffee and hot chocolate wafted in her direction. Her stomach gurgled loudly.
“Excellent, I’m glad you’re hungry. Which would you prefer, coffee or chocolate?”
His matter-of-fact approach calmed her and she smiled apologetically. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, small wonder I fainted. I apologise for blaming you.”
“I have broad shoulders, my love. I’m quite happy to accept the blame for everything untoward that has occurred since we met.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. I believe someone clever and famous once said ‘an individual is the master of their own downfall’ or something equally profound. I believe I can accept full responsibility for putting my foot through my gown and behaving appallingly on numerous occasions. However I shall allow you to accept responsibility for my fainting. You have a tendency to creep up on a person in a most unexpected way.”
He handed her a bowl of chocolate and placed a plate of buns and pastries beside her on a small table. “I do apologise for creeping—not a gentlemanly pastime—small wonder you fainted.” He grinned and tossed her a damask napkin. “Now, stop talking nonsense and eat your breakfast.”
In companionable silence they demolished the food and drank chocolate and coffee. Eventually replete she brushed away the crumbs and wiped her mouth and sticky fingers. “That was exactly what I needed. I expect we raised a few eyebrows skulking in here rather than going to the breakfast parlour.”
“Not at all. Everything appeared as ordered and in good time.”
She smiled. “Good heavens! They would not dare show their surprise to someone as august as you. You can be quite sure they are, at this very moment, tittle-tattling about our strange behaviour.”
“Shall we not discuss the staff? We have far more pertinent things to talk about.” He raised his hand as she drew breath to protest. “For once you will remain silent and listen. Is that quite clear?”
A peculiar glint in his eyes made her hesitate and she swallowed her sharp retort. He leant forward. She could feel his breath on her cheek and pressed back against the sofa.
“Excellent. I see you have remembered I am the Duke of Essex and must not be interrupted by anyone less important than myself.”
He was not serious but poking fun at himself. This would not have happened a few short weeks ago. Nodding solemnly she placed a finger on her lips and raised her brows enquiringly.
“Finally I have achieved the impossible. I never thought to see you either biddable or quiet.” He smiled sweetly and waved his hand. “Please don’t spoil things now. I have things to say and you must listen to me.”
His expression changed from playful to serious. “Rose, I know why you wrote those letters, and it won’t wash, my dear. Whatever you say to the contrary, you will make me an excellent wife. Admittedly it would be better if you were older, had more experience of life, but that can’t be helped. What you don’t know you’ll soon learn. I have no wish to go back on the marriage mart and search for someone else. You will not get a better offer and by marrying me you will be helping your family.”
“I have no wish to be married. I told you that. I don’t like going to parties and balls, I much prefer to be in the countryside. I—”
“Then we shall live in Kent. I too would rather have my teeth pulled than attend fashionable events in Town. I have a brig moored in Dover and we can spend a year or two exploring the continent. You would love Italy; the light and colour would suit your personality.”
He made no mention of love; was she expecting too much from him? He was fond of her, took care of her and they dealt well together most of the time. Any girl in the land would consider this a union made in heaven. “I don’t wish to wear your ring until my father has returned and given his blessing. If he agrees, then I will marry you, but not until next year. I think it better we get to know each other before embarking on a lifetime commitment.�
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“A wise decision. I find it hard to accept you’re not even eighteen years of age for you are mature beyond your years.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew the small velvet box. “I shall leave this with you; put it with the other items.”
“I must go and change. The first of our new ensembles are arriving this morning and I cannot be seen as I am.”
They stood. He made no attempt to touch her and she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved. “It’s my niece’s come-out ball the day after tomorrow. I had hoped to announce our betrothal as well, but I’m prepared to wait if that’s what you want.”
After a few more banalities he departed, leaving the small box on the side table. He appeared sanguine about his choice and her reasons for refusing him had been dealt with. Would it be so very hard to marry a man she was head over ears in love with when her feelings were not reciprocated in full? A warm glow spread from toes to crown. She was committed and the thought of being his wife one day filled her with happiness. If he was satisfied she would make him a suitable duchess, then who was she to quibble?
Chapter Thirteen
The next day a stream of interesting boxes began to arrive at Grosvenor Square. For the first time in her life, Rose was as excited as her sister and mother to delve into the parcels and examine the contents. There were morning gowns, promenade dresses, reticules, gloves and slippers galore.
“My word, I swear we shall be the smartest ladies in London this season. Do look at this, girls, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. I’d no idea the puce satin would make up so well.”
Rose exchanged speaking looks with her sister. “I’m sure everyone will notice your ensemble, Mama, especially with the matching turban and three egret feathers.”
“I shall wear it tomorrow night. Have you discovered your ball gowns? I should like to see them before I begin my morning calls.”
Miss Bannerman and The Duke Page 11
