by Meara Platt
Her uncle was one of the smartest men alive, so Rose wasn’t surprised when, to Julian’s obvious dismay, he began to put the rest of it together. “Of course, it all makes sense now. You were courting Countess Deschanel because she was the only connection to this well-heeled, inner circle traitor. Bloody hell, you had us all convinced you were besotted with her.”
“No need to keep up the pretense now.” He held up the sketch Rose had completed moments ago. “I need your niece to copy this exact sketch another six times and quickly.”
“I’ll do it right now.” She resumed drawing while the men continued to talk.
George unfolded his arms and eased his stance, but remained standing in the center of the room. “So the man in the sketch is quite significant.”
“Unlike his dead companion, I think he took his orders straight from the traitor and will lead us to him.” Julian sighed. “At least, I hope so. We have no more leads now that the countess has fled. We’ve rounded up all her known contacts, none of whom have ever dealt with anyone but the countess. We’ve searched her London townhouse and the small manor house left to her by her unfortunate husband. We have nothing left to go on.”
John sank into the chair beside Rose once again and spoke to her uncle while he watched her at work. “We’ve had all the lords in Prinny’s inner circle followed, but to no avail. Their contact with the countess was at all times purely social, as far as we could detect. Some had no contact with her whatsoever, not even when at the same social function.”
Rose glanced up as she was about to start on her third copy. “Don’t you find that telling?”
All three gentleman regarded her quizzically. “How so?” Julian asked.
She resumed sketching. “Well, when a young lady likes a particular gentleman, she’s so afraid to let on—at least, until she knows his own thoughts about her—that she responds with the opposite of what she wishes to do. She’ll be delightful and cheerful with everyone else, but won’t look at the gentleman or ever engage him.”
“How is this relevant to Countess Deschanel and the traitor in Prinny’s circle?” John asked. “This isn’t about coy debutantes and matchmaking.”
“Well, it’s a question of hiding one’s feelings… or in this situation, whatever nefarious deed they’re up to. If the scoundrels fear they’re being watched, then wouldn’t they be safest never approaching each other? Then their looks could never betray them.” She turned to Julian. “You said so yourself when refusing for the longest time to tell me what was going on. You were worried what might happen if I knew, that a mere glance or slipped word would betray your entire operation. So why wouldn’t it be the same for the countess and her inner circle traitor? If it were up to me, I’d start with those who’ve had no contact with the countess.”
Julian stared at her for the longest time. “Rose, that’s an excellent suggestion. I could kiss you.”
George cleared his throat and stepped between them. “But you’re not going to,” he warned.
Julian glanced at Rose, grinning when he noticed her disappointment. “Guess not.”
He turned to John and motioned to the drawings Rose was still copying, apparently not nearly as disappointed as she was that there would be no kiss. Not that it would have been much of a kiss with everyone watching. Still, she would have liked to feel the warmth of his lips against her cheek.
“John, we’ll start with the two ministers who’ve had no contact with the countess,” Julian said, his manner serious and his thoughts clearly not on her, “but he isn’t to be arrested once discovered. Come back to me when you have your proof. If one of them is the man we’ve been seeking, we may have better use for him if he believes he’s gotten away with his crimes.”
Rose glanced up. “Why would you allow him to remain free? Isn’t the point of all this to capture him?”
Julian nodded. “We’ll take him in due course, but we can do a lot more damage to Napoleon’s cause by feeding him bits of false information through his most trusted source. We may not be able to keep it up for very long, but it’s worth a try.”
Julian took her sketches as soon as they were completed and started for the double doors that led into Lord Carlisle’s garden. Rose stood up and called out to him. “Where are you going? Must you leave the party immediately?” She then shook her head and groaned lightly, realizing she was acting like a ninny, for he had more important matters to attend to than remaining here to dance with her. Why would he remember that he’d promised to do so once her ankle had healed? “Of course, you must go. I’m sorry I stopped you.”
His features softened as he regarded her. “Rose, I owe you a dance. I haven’t forgotten. I look forward to it.”
CHAPTER 17
THE AFTERNOON SUN shone a perfect yellow against the deep blue sky, and a gentle breeze wafted in through the open windows of the Farthingale parlor. Rose sat with Laurel, Daisy, and assorted family members awaiting the guests that would soon arrive for her mother’s tea party.
Where were the twins?
Oh, never mind.
They’d turn up eventually.
Rose took a deep breath to calm herself, but she couldn’t manage it. She fidgeted with her gown, a simple but elegant muted bronze that brought out the dark honey tones of her hair. Would Julian notice? Would he care? She hadn’t seen or heard from him since Lord Carlisle’s ball three days ago.
Laurel and Daisy approached and sat beside her. Daisy reached out and patted her hand. “Rose, you’ll make yourself ill. He’ll be here. Didn’t he tell you that he looked forward to claiming a dance?”
She nodded. “But this is an afternoon tea. There’s no music. And if he’s so besotted with me, then shouldn’t he be more ardent? Anyone can look forward to a dance, for it’s the polite thing to say.” She let out a shaky breath. “What if he only means to let me down gently? Oh, dear! What if he plans to do it today?”
Pruitt, ever poised and perfectly attired, announced the arrival of the Earl and Countess of Darnley. Laurel grabbed her hand. “Come on, Nicola and her family have arrived.”
As though in confirmation, Pruitt announced Nicola next.
Rose and her sisters ran to the entry hall to greet her, showing none of the refined grace and restraint they’d been taught in preparation for their debuts.
Where was Julian? Pruitt had yet to announce him.
Rose quickly scanned the entry hall in search of him, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Have John and Lady Bainbridge arrived yet?” Nicola was obviously eager to see John again, but her expression was a mix of excitement and fear that she tried to hide with an overly bright smile.
Rose gave her a hug of encouragement. “No. Where’s your brother?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t been around at all these past few days. Has he sent you any word?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh dear.” Nicola began to nibble her lip. “I really hate this marriage mart business, Rolf. Everything’s so much harder when one’s heart is at risk. How can one make pleasant conversation when merely crossing a room feels like walking across a bed of hot coals? Oh, look! There’s John. He’s just arrived with Lady Bainbridge. Do you think he’ll acknowledge me?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Laurel asked, eager to speak to him as well.
“Because he thinks I’m a sharp-tongued shrew and he would have nothing to do with me if not for the fact that I’m his best friend’s sister and it would be unpardonably rude of him to avoid me,” she said with a groan. “I don’t think he likes me at all.”
Daisy cast her a pitying look. “I’m sure things aren’t quite as bad between you as you seem to think.”
More guests arrived. Tea and cakes were brought out. After greeting John and learning nothing other than that Julian was busy and probably wouldn’t attend her tea, Rose spent most of the afternoon chatting with Lady Bainbridge and showing her the items of pottery and decorative glassware she had made which were on display throughout the
house. “And did you draw these? They’re charming,” the kindly dowager remarked, pointing to the drawings she’d made of herself and her sisters that hung on the walls of the entry hall. “Rose, you are truly talented.”
She blushed. “Thank you.”
“Well, my girl. You’ve won yourself a commission. John wasn’t exaggerating when he said you were extraordinary.”
The tea ended several hours later. The twins, who were missing much of the time, were finally discovered in the garden, hiding amid the branches of the large oak that stood beside their bedroom window. They’d stolen an entire ginger cake and a bowl of strawberries and were eating them as they spied on their guests. To amuse themselves, they’d pretended to be squirrels and dropped acorns on the heads of friends and family, which earned them the punishment of a week’s confinement in their room.
Rose snorted to contain her laughter. Those clever fiends! They’d gotten out of having to visit their mother’s aunt, Lady Palmhurst, whose entire house reeked of the lilac cologne she doused on herself by the bucketful. The scent of lilac was quite lovely in small doses, almost as delightful as the scent of lavender or rose hips, but there was nothing pleasant about an aroma that struck you hard in the face like a brick thrown at you.
Truly, it snatched one’s breath away. There was no escaping it, for Lady Palmhurst would not allow her windows to be opened.
And the woman loved sardines.
Dillie never responded well to sardines.
Lilac water and sardines.
Rose wanted to cheer the twins for so cleverly maneuvering their way out of the visit. If only they could help her as well as they’d helped themselves. She walked down the hall and knocked at their bedroom door. “Open up, I need to talk to you. Sisters meeting.” Laurel and Daisy were close behind her. Usually they met in Rose’s room, but it was nothing to switch location while the twins were under house arrest, so to speak.
“Rose needs your counsel,” Laurel said, giving another impatient knock.
Dillie opened the door and stepped aside to allow them in. “We’ll do what we can to help. We noticed Julian’s absence and wondered at the reason. He means a lot to you, doesn’t he, Rose?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have much time before the Earl of Devon’s ball. Oh, bother. Less than half an hour to get ready, so we really must talk fast. I care for him very much. I love him, but I don’t think Julian feels the same about me. Lord Randall explained to me that Julian was busy. That’s it. He refused to tell me anything more.”
Dillie nodded. “And now you’re worried that Julian wishes to avoid you.”
“Yes.” It felt odd to confide in the twins, who were barely out of the nursery, yet they had such agile minds, and Lily in particular always had a unique manner of looking at things that could be very helpful. “How do I make him fall in love with me?”
Lily looked pained. “You know what Father always says. You can’t make someone love you. They either do or they don’t. But I’ve heard it said at the Royal Society that the Duke of Lotheil has just acquired the statue of a rare African fertility god. It hasn’t arrived in London yet, but if I could get my hands on it and figure out how to cast a fertility spell—”
Laurel burst into laughter. “Don’t you dare! Besides, Rose needs our help now. Finding herself carrying his child will not help matters. We’re speaking of love, not reproduction.”
Dillie’s eyes grew wide. “Rose, you’re blushing! What haven’t you told us? Nicola let something slip this afternoon about an abduction. Never say you abducted him and held him prisoner! At Darnley Cottage? That’s brilliant! A perfect way to separate him from the herd.”
“Not quite. We captured him and locked him away in Lord Darnley’s old hunting lodge, and… somehow, I got locked away with him.”
Daisy gasped. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Then what happened? Did he kiss you?”
She gave a reluctant nod.
“Before or after you locked him away?” Laurel asked, soon followed an artillery barrage of questions posed by her curious sisters. They were tossing the questions at her so fast she couldn’t answer them all.
Rose didn’t think her face could grow any hotter. “The appalling scheme did work to some small extent, but mostly it was a disaster. He kissed me before and after, if you little snoops must know. But his family completely botched the attempt and he was furious.”
“Before and after?” Lily crossed to her desk, picked up a rather large tome, skimmed through the pages until she found the section she was looking for, and began to read. After a moment she set down the book and turned to face them all. “The Emory men have been described as wolves, much like the men in our family, so I wanted to refresh my recollection on the topic.”
Daisy sank onto her bed, sitting on the edge of it with marked impatience. “And?”
“Wolves mate for life. They select the desirable female and mark her with their scent. That Julian kissed you before and after is quite telling. It means he has selected you, or at the very least, seriously considered you for his mate.” Lily sighed. “But I know nothing about matters of the heart, Rose. I only know what’s written in these books. He may exhibit the traits of a wolf, but I can’t say for certain that he loves you, only that you were under consideration at one time.”
Laurel frowned. “But he kissed her afterward.”
“Which is promising,” Lily admitted. “I have no answer for you. If he attends the ball this evening, look for subtle clues in his behavior and be guided by those.”
“Rose! Are you ready yet?” their mother called from downstairs. “We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Where are your gloves? Where’s the pearl necklace?”
“Drat, I’m nowhere near ready.” She gave each of the twins a quick hug. “I’ll report back to you in the morning. Thank you, Lily. I know there’s no easy answer. I’ll look for those small clues and I’ll try hard not to get my hopes up.”
Within the hour, Rose and the family elders were entering the Earl of Devon’s glittering ballroom. The play of candlelight against the crystal chandeliers seemed to give the large room an enchanted glow. Rose touched the string of pearls at her throat, feeling a little shabby in these elegant surroundings, even though this was the Farthingale heirloom necklace that was supposed to bring good fortune to each girl in the family who wore it during her debut season.
She needed all the good fortune she could muster. There were so many young ladies in attendance, many of them pretty and most of them of rank, while she was merely a Farthingale. She was proud of her family, to be sure, but how could she compete with the daughters of dukes or earls or barons? Julian was a viscount, heir to an earldom.
Why would he want her?
She glanced around and saw that the older women in attendance wore diamonds and some of the younger women did so as well, along with sapphires and emeralds that sparkled against their bodies. Wealth, elegance, rank. She suddenly felt quite out of place. She noticed Lady Eloise seated beside the long windows and hurried over to greet her, in dire need of a friend. “Rose, you poor dear. Why the worried look? Does this concern Viscount Chatham?”
She sat down beside her. “Am I that obvious?” She glanced around as the orchestra struck a chord to mark the opening of the ball. The crowd began to collect around the dance floor, leaving her and Eloise mostly to themselves. “I don’t think I shall dance at all tonight, Eloise. My heart isn’t in it. I wish to remain by your side.”
“Nonsense, child. You’re no wilted wallflower.”
“Perhaps not, but I’m no diamond either.” She held up her dance card. “See, it’s quite empty.”
“You haven’t given the gentlemen a chance to find you.”
“It won’t matter. I’m not going to dance tonight.”
“That would be a pity,” a deep, rumbling voice said from behind her, “because I’d hoped to keep my word to you.”
Rose turned sharply. “Julian… er, that is, Lord Chatham… how lovely
to see you, I think.” Her face began to heat. Did he have to look so magnificent? The black of his elegant jacket stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders.
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “You think?”
“How are you?” Was it polite to ask this of a gentleman? “So sorry you missed our tea party. It was quite lovely. Cakes! We had cakes and cucumber sandwiches, too. And the twins were in hiding. No one knew where they’d gone until they began firing acorns from the oak tree in our garden.”
He smiled.
“A hot evening, isn’t it?” Where was her fan? “Goodness, quite steamy.” Or was it the look in his eyes that was steaming up her insides?
Julian held out his arm to her. “There’s a nice breeze in the garden. Care to take a turn on the terrace with me before we dance?”
As politeness demanded, he extended his other arm to Lady Eloise. “No, my boy! The last thing you want is an old bat like me intruding. No, indeed. I think I’ll stay right where I am.” She patted Rose’s hand. “Do stop talking and let Chatham get a word in. I think you might like what he has to say.”
Rose turned to Julian in expectation, her stomach tied in a thousand knots. “Will I?”
He grimaced. “Come, let’s talk outdoors.”
Did men in love grimace? Was his intention to let her down gently and allow her to cry her heart out in the relative privacy of Lord Devon’s garden?
Julian led her down the terrace steps and along the pebble path decorated with lanterns that gleamed so that the flower beds appeared magical under the moonlight. “Rose,” he said with an ache to his voice, drawing her behind a massive tree to hide them from view of prying eyes.
She meant to wait for him to start the conversation, but she was a mass of tangled and frayed feelings and the words insisted on bubbling out of her. “Julian, I missed you so much. I’m so glad you’re here now. You look wonderful. You always do. I think you know it.” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean that you’re arrogant about it. I mean that you know how I feel about you. But I don’t know how you feel about me now that you’re safe from the clutches of the horrid countess.”
