Rose

by Conrad, Angela

  Marlene wore a stylish dress of mint green with an equally deep neckline, and though she did not offer the bosom of Rose, hers was enough to be attractive. Her sisters had loaned her their cameo and hair clips of pink shell and she looked very young and enticing.

  The two ladies, escorted by Lord Sandhurst caused quite a stir at the doorway into the ballroom and as heads turned and fans waved, Simon and Stanley walked straight towards them.

  Lord Sandhurst made an unpleasant face but gave ground and the foursome of Rose, Marlene, Simon and Stanley enjoyed delightful conversation and two dances each.

  Simon held her too tightly, almost hurting her waist.

  “Please, you have me too firmly,” Rose complained to her partner.

  “I don’t have you at all, yet. Rose you smell heavenly and look too glorious to be real, how can I please you?” Simon whispered in her ear.

  “Simon, don’t try so hard to please. Just be yourself. Have you heard any news of your ship?”

  “Not today, but I’m hopeful. I talked to a few captains down on the wharf and they swear the wind was light, but no storms.”

  “I feel guilty, you risking your money because of me Simon. If we do marry, it will never be because you have a fortune or none.”

  Rose looked up into Simon’s green eyes, so filled with longing and desire that she tripped. Rose had never had anyone want her as Simon did. She gripped his hand tightly and smiled.

  “I appreciate you Simon. Though I’m not good at trusting a gentleman, I am starting to trust you. I believe you want only me, not my dowry. I think you wanted me before you knew anything about me except I was Lord Sandhurst’s daughter and resembled him. Be my friend Simon.”

  “I cannot be your friend. I want to take you back to a bed and make love to you again. Kiss you until we are exhausted, hold you close and feel you against me. Have children with you. Gads, I’m sorry. What a way to talk to a nineteen year old lady. I’m sorry Rose.”

  Simon, realizing his pushing was reminding Rose of her father’s behavior, tried to lighten his mood. But dark forces worked in his soul and terror reigned in his heart. Lord Sandhurst was sinister and Simon doubted he could thwart him. He had rivals, stronger and richer. Simon had drank too many brandies and his mood slid into despair.

  Rose had not deliberately done it, but she had drawn Lord Islay’s interest to a fever pitch; she had accidently issued him a challenge. Prove he could win her and deserve her. Prove he could change and be a better man, one she could love. Wipe away his careless past and be a good husband? He didn’t know if it was possible, but he was curious to see if he could convince Rose that it was. He was skilled at talking women around to his way of thinking. He had a lifetime of practice. He couldn’t even believe all the things he had asked a lady to do and she had happily complied. Rose was nineteen. He could show her a world of actions, behaviors, and pleasures. She would be his for as long as he wanted her and if that was a lifetime, then so be it. If not, if the same pattern followed, the boredom and wondering eye, he would suit himself and congratulate the attempt on a game well played. Mark Islay had no intention of being hurt. That was a woman’s emotion.

  Simon reluctantly left Rose to speak to his father and Lord Islay soon was by her side.

  “Thought he would never leave,” Mark laughed with relief, glad he could finally speak to Rose alone.

  “Why should he? We are very good friends,” Rose replied.

  “That gentleman thinks of you in no way like a friend, believe me,” Mark warned.

  “Are you good at reading people?” Rose asked.

  “Usually,” Mark replied, thinking of all the ladies he’d read and seduced.

  “I am very good at it. You see the way some women look at father, that special hooded gaze? Those are the ones he’s had affairs with, I can tell them all now. So many, but then he is still very handsome. Older ones, younger too, the whole range of available and not, some still giving him signals and signs,” Rose revealed to Mark Islay.

  He seemed uneasy and she added.

  “I can see all of yours too.”

  Mark looked at this most beautiful of women and wished she were a half shade sillier and far less intelligent. His chest felt tight and he wanted to avoid this conversation, but he could not.

  “Can you?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. Do you want me to identify them? I can. I will do dress color as I don’t know all of their names. Let’s start at our left. Dark blue, rose silk, green muslin, golden brocade, and to the center pink underskirt with pearls, yellow satin, brown low cut silk, and to the right navy and lace, redhead in blue, another green muslin this one younger, and your widow in red. How did I do?”

  Lord Islay thought she should work for the Crown. He felt a blush running under his collar and pulled his right cuff.

  “I’m right and I know it by the way you tug your cuff. I also know I didn’t name all of your conquests, of course all of them are not present, but a few are too hurt to watch you anymore and one of them leaves the room when you enter. There, the emerald green gown, she still is wounded by merely your presence,” Rose disclosed, with not a doubt in her head.

  “You are a remarkable young lady,” Mark had to admit.

  Shame was a new visitor to him, he looked at the ladies Rose had mentioned and felt remorse and anger that Rose could see their hurt so clearly when he’d never bothered to look. He was more of a cad than he supposed.

  “I’ll never be hurt by you though Mark, for I see you play a game. You don’t want to love anyone, you only want to conquer. You should join the military and hurt grown men instead of women,” with that Rose walked away, leaving a troubled earl in her wake.

  Mark felt like a weed a horse passes by, not good enough to tempt. He’d never felt so low in his life. He knew the talks he gave himself were all bull. He was far past controlling his feelings or being open to hurt. He believed that if he possessed Rose, no one would ever tempt him again. He’d lived a full, rich life of conquest and making love, but never before had he loved. There was no turning back, changing his mind, or swapping ladies for Mark Islay after tonight. It was Rose, no one but Rose. Her image burned in his head and drove his every action. Lord Islay could not think of a future without Rose.

  ……….

  CHAPTER SIX

  Six Proposals

  Lord Sandhurst Town House

  Residence of Viscount Sandhurst

  8 Mount Street

  London, England

  At various parties and balls, for the next two weeks Rose danced and laughed, as the gentlemen’s undercurrents ran hot and fierce. The more vivacious she appeared, the more determined Simon Bainbridge and Mark Islay became.

  One Tuesday morning, Rose and her father met in the breakfast room. After a meal of steak, eggs, fruit, cheeses, coffee, and tea Rose stood to leave the room.

  “A word with you daughter,” Lord Sandhurst called to Rose. “Come into the library will you?”

  “Yes father.”

  He took his place of power, behind his mahogany desk, Rose sat in a delicate chair facing him and they exchanged pewter to pewter stares.

  “It’s eerie how like me you are, especially the eyes,” he said.

  “Yes, I know. It’s like a mirror and heaven knows we have enough of those.”

  “I want you to know during these weeks together that I have grown to adore you Rose.”

  She smiled to hide her growing dread of this conceited man. His voice dripped insincerity and Rose wondered how so many women could have fallen for him over the years.

  “Oh, I can see you don’t believe me. I didn’t think it was possible myself, but I do love you Rose and I want what is best for you.”

  Somehow that simple statement chilled her and she twisted her hands together and looked down.

  “The season is moving towards a close and I have not shared this news with you before, giving you time, but I have received six offers for your hand Rose and today we must narrow t
hem down to the one.”

  “Six?” asked Rose, truly surprised. “Do I even know six so well?”

  “Probably not. We can disregard a few easily enough. Here Lord Burly, he’s fifty, older than me and I think we can both agree it will not be him.”

  “That man with the cane and mustache? He uses snuff and lace handkerchiefs?”

  “Yes, that is him. Not much of a man, wealthy but little else. I think he desires you as a man wants a racing cup, to show off to his friends.”

  Rose shivered and he turned one page face down.

  “The second and third are Lord Grisham and Lord Mansfield, both widowers with children. Does motherhood interest you at all?”

  “No father, I’m nineteen, I do not want to raise another lady’s children. Please, I don’t even remember them,” Rose shifted in her chair, as if she would dash out the door if the names did not improve.

  Lord Sandhurst turned two more pages face down.

  “Fourth is Simon Bainbridge, no surprise there, though he had a financial setback of late and sank lower in my eyes, like his ship.”

  Rose knew about the bet Simon had made, the gamble for her sake and felt guilty she had inspired him to risk ruin. Simon was handsome and kind, loving and protective. He was also jealous and possessive, angry and moody. Rose was growing afraid to be around him, he was usually drinking too much and held her too tightly. She felt responsible and wished she could love him as he loved her.

  Her father, after watching her face, moved the name aside face up and continued.

  “Fifth and sixth are surprises I must say. I never expected either. Fifth is a duke. He withholds his name. He lists his fortune and gives his age at thirty six. Very mysterious. Do you remember dancing or speaking with such an exalted personage?”

  “A duke? No.”

  “Perhaps a duke but pretending to be someone less?”

  “Why would he do that?” Rose asked.

  “To see if you liked him for himself and not for his property I should guess.”

  “But how can we discuss him? I have no concept of who he might be?”

  Her father took the paper and laid it beside the one naming Simon.

  “Who is the last one?” Rose asked, not feeling pleased and a little afraid.

  “You’ll never guess it. The ton will not believe it, but it is Lord Islay, the earl offering marriage at last.”

  “No,” Rose expressed her surprise.

  “Yes, I was never so shocked by anything. He asked me twice in fact. The night of the Spencer ball and the next morning, while you were riding. He seems very determined to have you Rose. You must know he is the catch of the town, a rich earl, no other woman has gotten close to an offer from him," her father announced proudly, though there was a cloud of suspicion in his eyes.

  “You don’t fully trust him do you?” Rose asked, but believing her father was acting a part.

  “No, he has a grievance against me. I grow suspicious, this offer a ploy to hurt me instead of a desire to have you.”

  “What grievance?” Rose asked, truly curious.

  “An affair with his married sister,” her father confessed. “It was years ago and meant nothing, but her husband was forever put out by it and that could be the cause.”

  How easily he said it. Like spilt tea or a shoe off a horse. A broken marriage and another unfortunate lady. Rose was close to spitting at him.

  “So are you implying Lord Islay would marry me, or leave me at the altar jilted? Would he marry me and strand me somewhere like you did?” Rose asked.

  “All possibilities.”

  Rose felt surprisingly sad. She hadn’t realized until this moment that she was so strongly attracted to Lord Islay. Under their kidding and her talk of not being interested, she was very interested. There had always been an attraction, since the first view of him in the ballroom. He looked at her like a man who truly desires a woman. He made her feel flattered and alive, and now she wondered if it might just be an act to get even with her father.

  Rose lowered her shoulders and asked, “What does this duke offer? Does he want to see me, talk to me at least? Let me see him?”

  Her heart not really in it, she listened as her father spoke of a private meeting between the two of them, one he was arranging for tomorrow.

  “I want it held here in your townhouse father. No meeting in some far away manor where he might keep me. I will not do it unless it is here and safe.”

  Her father studied her face and saw her resolve.

  “I agree, we must be safe. I will contact him.”

  “How can you, if you don’t know who he is?” Rose asked suspiciously.

  “He has a messenger, he carries the notes.”

  “I don’t like it. Is he deformed, notorious, mad?” Rose asked. “Perhaps I will take my chances with Simon or Lord Islay. I agree to only a meeting, we are clear?”

  “Yes. Didn’t I just tell you I love you Rose?”

  “Yes you did and that’s what makes me so suspicious,” she replied and left the room.

  Her father shook his head and muttered, “Too much like me.”

  ……….

  Lord Islay Town House

  Residence of Earl Islay

  Berkley Square

  London, England

  Rose knew she had to see Lord Islay. She needed to try and see into his heart. Rose also wanted to talk to him about mysterious dukes. How many recluse thirty six year old dukes could there be in England? Her father must know him, it was impossible to think otherwise. Was he setting a trap for her? She could not trust Lord Sandhurst, look where blind faith had led her mother. She would find Mark and if not him, go to Simon. The more she thought about this secret meeting, the more she feared it. Would her father let her be taken? Had he sold her to the highest bidder already? She could not be sure. She must find Lord Islay.

  She rode in the park, but never saw him. She stopped at Marlene’s house, but she was out with her sisters and gone for the day. She asked Janet to learn Lord Islay’s address and at four o’clock in the afternoon she arrived at his door, covered in a black cloak and wearing a hood. Rose felt ridiculous, for with the number of women Mark had engaged in affairs with, then discarded, this cloaked woman at the door was probably a regular haunt. The servants would laugh and say, “There’s another poor discarded lover, begging the master for favors.”

  She was turning off the step to leave when she saw Lord Islay dismount and approach the door. He stopped when he saw the dark figure and she laughed and pulled back her hood.

  “Don’t worry, I’m no old flame here to beg for one last encounter. I need to talk to you, I need your help.”

  Mark took her arm and led her swiftly into his townhouse. He pulled her into his study and closed and locked the door.

  He looked at her perfect face and wanted to touch her so badly he put his hands behind his back and walked to the window, he closed the draperies, leaving them in shadow.

  “You take a chance coming here Rose. Remember I am notorious by your words, there’s no place riskier than the townhouse of Lord Islay. I can’t promise not to touch you,” Mark laughed, until he noticed her serious expression.

  “Do you know a duke, thirty six years old?” Rose asked without delay.

  Mark looked at her in surprise and asked, “Why?”

  “I think father means to turn me over to him tomorrow,” Rose replied.

  Rose grew tense as she watched Mark’s face change, flush red, and grow tight. Suddenly, his fist struck the desk, making Rose jump.

  “Tell me what’s happened!” he demanded, angrier than she had ever seen him.

  “Father called me into his library and told me he had six offers for my hand in marriage.”

  “Six?”

  “Yes, that’s what I asked. Three were older lords, I don’t even remember their names, one was Simon and then you,” she added, looking up at him in a serious fashion. “Father said Simon lost his money and you were only interested
in me because you planned revenge on him.”

  “I’m not surprised he told you that lie, it’s not true Rose. When I offered, he was less than thrilled, threatened me in fact; tried to force me to withdraw my suit. I want you for a hundred reasons, but not one has to do with your father. I want to marry you in spite of the fact that you’re related to such a man.”

  “Do you really?” Rose asked, searching his face for the truth.

  “You can’t tell by the way I stare at you for hours, or grow angry when Bainbridge is around? How I hold you when we dance, as if I never wanted to let go?” Mark laughed and walked towards her.

  “Rose, you are suspicious of men, with the father you have, who could blame you. I would never propose to any young lady just to have revenge against her father. I might have been a cad before you, loving and leaving a ballroom full of women, but I have never cared for one of them like I do for you. You make me want to be a better man Rose.”

  “It all sounds lovely, but it is hard to believe. I came here to see if I could tell if you were serious, but I still am not sure.”

  “Let me convince you,” Mark said, taking Rose into his arms and kissing her.

  He was full of passion for Rose and once he touched her, he could not draw back. He held her tightly and kissed her first softly, then harder. He ran his hands down her back and up her sides, feeling her curves. He didn’t want to talk or think, only to feel and he did feel it with Rose. Such a desire for her burned inside him, it hurt. Mark wasn’t thinking about what she could offer to pleasure him, but what he could do to please Rose. He licked her lips, inserted his tongue and felt hers. He intended to pull back, but she had her hands on his collar and she was leaning into him. Mark kissed Rose fiercely now, as if she might disappear or was sailing to France. He pictured that mad duke having Rose, touching her, and deadly resolve flooded him. Mark touched her neck and felt her delicate collarbone. He dropped his head and ran his lips over her soft skin.

  Mark was sailing into dangerous waters and thinking, I could take Rose here on the desk, ruin her; have her. He reached around and dropped her cloak to the floor. He felt for her laces and started to open her dress.