A Refuge for Rosanna

by Susan Karsten

  “Thank you for all the support and encouragement, Ellie. It’s wonderful to have a friend like you. Good night.”

  ~*~

  Lord Winstead’s patience waned dangerously by the next morning. It had taken an extra day to run the sneaky villain to ground and the man’s petulant self-absorption knew no bounds.

  Upon arrival at Halburt’s set of rooms, Peter shouldered past the butler. He confronted Halburt as he sat at breakfast. Interrupting the man’s repast didn’t bother Peter at all. He selected a grape from a silver platter on the table and tossed it in his hand.

  Fear in his eyes, Halburt blustered, “What have you got to say to me? Why should I listen to you? You’re no relation to Miss Cabot, so I don’t have to answer to you.” His lower lip jutted out.

  His sulky demeanor, and arrogant attitude aggravated Peter’s already-frayed restraint. “Let’s not quibble at this time about familial ties, Halburt. You threatened a lady. One whose peace is important to me. I am here to ensure your silence.”

  Halburt pushed away from the table. “My silence? About what?”

  Winstead scoffed at the man’s bluff. “You know very well. You intimated that you would spread distasteful rumors about Miss Cabot. I can’t have that. I won’t.”

  “That’s all well and good for you to say, but you don’t have any control of the matter.” Raising his defiant chin, he tossed his linen napkin onto the table and spat out his next words. “I shall tell whomever I please about Miss Cabot.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind.” Peter insisted. “I see I have to apprise you of a couple of consequences for you, since you lack understanding. You not only assaulted Miss Cabot’s person, you burgled her home, and stole her mail. Do you think a known thief will continue to be welcomed into society? Let alone the suspicion of your involvement in arson?”

  “But nobody knows about that. Miss Cabot doesn’t go in London society, so she can’t tell anyone.” Halburt smirked, as if that would settle it.

  “You are closely acquainted with the Woodvale magistrate, Squire Bredon? We’re close friends. He particularly despises burglary and assault on women. Also, Miss Cabot may not grace London society any longer, but nothing stops me from dropping in at White’s or Almack’s. I do love to speak the truth.” Peter raised his brows and gave Halburt a look of significance.

  “What are you saying?” Halburt blustered.

  “Here’s the crux. You’ll no longer reside at Halburt Arms. You will move to one of your lesser estates. If anyone inquires, you’ll tell people your home estate’s climate is bad for your health. That will be the truth.” Peter put the grape in his mouth, then smacked one fist into the other hand.

  Face paper white, Lord Halburt sniffed and sputtered. “I’ll consider it.”

  “No. You won’t. I’ve considered it all night and you are moving away. Good day.” He got up to leave, but before he reached the door, Lord Halburt spoke.

  He wrung his hands. “All right. I’ve wanted to move for a while, anyway. Do you promise to keep quiet about me?”

  “I’ll keep silent, if you leave by week’s end. That will mean leaving London immediately for Halburt Arms to put your estate’s affairs in order. Shake my hand like a gentleman.” Peter gave a firm squeeze and grasped hard. He glared at Halburt for a moment. “See that you leave soon, very soon. You’re being watched.”

  ~*~

  When Peter came into view, walking up the drive at Honor’s Point, Rosanna vaulted off the bedroom’s window seat and ran down the stairs. She grabbed a bonnet, fan, and shawl off the stand in the hall and slipped out the front door, leaving Perkins standing with his mouth agape.

  Settling the bonnet on her head and tying the ribbons, she put the shawl around her shoulders and stood, fidgeting with one of its tassels, waiting for Peter to reach her. He stopped at the foot of the steps and placed one booted foot on the lowest step. “Good morning, Miss Cabot. May I escort you on a walk around the grounds? I have something to tell you.”

  “I’d love to.” With an irrepressible bubble of joy spiraling up from her chest, she forced herself to come down the steps at a sedate pace. Placing her hand on Lord Winstead’s forearm, she smiled up at him from under the rim of her saucy bonnet. “’Tis a fine day for a walk. How did you sleep?”

  “Sleep? Not so much. I had some planning and thinking to do.” He patted her hand before continuing. “I saw Halburt in London. It took me some time to locate him.” He guided her toward the summerhouse.

  “I hope you understand my leaving London.”

  “We’re together now, dear, so it doesn’t matter, as long as you are safe and happy.”

  They came to a pause at the foot of the shallow step leading to the latticework shelter. Winstead placed his hand at the small of Rosanna’s back and guided her up the steps and through the doorway. The open-air room edged with faded blue padded benches held a hushed feel, and the smell of newly cut hay drifted in on gusts of hot summer air.

  “Sit down, dear. I must tell you about Halburt.”

  “He’s the last thing I want to hear about.” She clutched her hands in her lap. The mention of the man’s name and the grim look on Peter’s face caused a sick flutter to land in her heart. Moving away from the marriage mart of London hadn’t been far enough to get away from fortune hunters and the thought still made her shudder.

  “You may be assured that he’s been dealt with. He’s moving permanently to one of his lesser estates. He’ll be gone in a few days—by the end of the week, in fact. You’ll not have him to fear, or worry about, any more. I made things clear to him, and he agreed that a move for his health would be a very good thing.”

  “Thank you. He has been a pest. I will be extremely pleased to see him gone.” She leaned back a bit and braced her shaky hands against the seat cushion. “Let’s talk about something else.” She fluttered her fan in front of her face, then closed it again. Elation rose in her core at the thought of him proclaiming his love. Would it happen today?

  “Yes, let’s do.” Peter sank down onto one knee, directly in front of Rosanna.

  He took her hands into his dry, warm grasp. His hands felt hard and slightly rough, not soft like hers.

  “My dear, you are my heart’s desire. I must make you my own, and I must be yours. The Lord has clearly brought us together.” He bent his head and placed a light kiss on her hands, first one, then the other. His lips were soft and warm.

  Dizzy joy swept through her head, sizzled down to her toes, came back up and settled in her midsection. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged.

  “No, let me speak, dear.” Peter laid his finger over her lips for a moment. “Make my joy complete by agreeing to be my wife. We can be married in two weeks, if that’s enough time for you?”

  “Darling, I’d wait much longer if necessary, but two weeks sounds just right to me. I’d love to make your joy complete. Yes, I’ll gladly be your wife.” She tingled in anticipation as Peter stood, and then pulled her to her feet. He wrapped her in his strong arms.

  The strength of his arms staggered her senses, and a sweet weakness crept over her. He put a gentle hand on the back of her head and moved in to kiss her lips. When his lips met hers, she felt as though she’d swoon from the waves of love and sensation, but he broke off the delightful kiss after a moment.

  Releasing her with reluctance, he rummaged in his waistcoat pocket. “Ah, here it is. The Winstead betrothal ring.” He lifted her left hand and slipped a filigreed band topped by a square cut sapphire onto her ring finger, turned her hand over and lightly kissed her palm.

  “It’s so beautiful.” Rosanna breathed out her admiration. She held her hand out to regard it at arm’s length. “Thank you. I am honored to wear it.”

  “I love you, my dear. With all my heart. When I think of the way God has worked to bring us together, I want to burst with gratitude. A few short weeks ago, I lived as a recluse, carrying a heavy burden, with no hopes for a happy future. Now, I am to marry th
e loveliest lady in the land.”

  “I had a cold heart, closed off to love with no thought of ever marrying. Now I am engaged to marry a fine lord.” Rosanna gazed deeply into his eyes trying to convey all her love and passion.

  The betrothed pair sank down onto the bench into a long, warm embrace.

  61

  “Look, Peter, it’s Miss Barton, and Mr. Clough. And they’re holding hands.” Rosanna, with reluctance, eased away from Peter, ending his welcome caress. She kept her fingers entwined with his, though, while waiting for the older couple who approached the summerhouse, hand in hand.

  Peter whispered. “Rosanna, dear, my face is sore from smiling.”

  “Mine, too. It appears we’re not the only ones smelling like April and May. Look at them.” She whispered back. They turned toward the open arched doorway and watched the older couple’s progress in their direction. Mr. Clough clearly had Miss Barton’s hand in an intimate lover’s grasp.

  “I love it when you hold my hand—I don’t want to ever let you go.” Rosanna murmured these words and squeezed his hand. They half hid their clasped hands in the folds of her dress.

  “May we join you? It’s such a beautiful day.” Mr. Clough presumed the answer would be ‘yes’, assisted Miss Barton up the three shallow steps, and guided her over to a padded bench near the wall.

  Rosanna turned to Peter, not yet able to stop smiling—joy had taken over her face. She squeezed his hand again before she spoke. “It’s the most wonderful, beautiful day ever. Isn’t it, Lord Winstead?”

  Peter radiated happiness. “Miss Barton, Mr. Clough, we’d like you to be the first to know. Miss Cabot has made me the happiest of men. We have resolved any and all impediments blocking our way to the marriage altar.” Peter released Rosanna’s hand and laid his arm around her shoulders. He looked long into her eyes.

  Mr. Clough gave a quiet cough after a few seconds passed, breaking the moment. “Miss Cabot, Lord Winstead, that’s excellent news. Not that I didn’t expect it. I had a strong sense that you two were meant for each other. The circumstances that brought you together reveal God’s guiding hand. So pleased for you both.”

  “My dear.” Miss Barton rushed to Rosanna and clasped her hands. “Love is so wonderful. Isn’t it Mr. Clough?” She looked back over her shoulder at the vicar for affirmation.

  “Lord Winstead, harking back to the other night, when you found the treasure? Yes, well, I have found my own treasure, and today I claimed it for my own.” Mr. Clough drew Miss Barton back to his side and put his arm around her waist. He paused a moment, then spoke. “She, Pearl that is, is my treasure. My earthly life’s reward. We, too, shall be traversing to the altar.”

  “Pearl?” Rosanna put her fingers over her lips to hold in her astonishment.

  “Yes, Rosanna, that’s my name. All these years of going by ‘Barton’ as your nurse, and lady’s maid, then being elevated to companion and ‘Miss Barton’ you never knew my first name. Bertrand likes it.” She looked up at Mr. Clough, as if for reassurance.

  “I do indeed. So much so that I selected a pearl ring for my beloved.” He lifted Pearl’s hand to show her betrothal ring to the younger couple.

  “It’s a beautiful name and a lovely ring. You’ll be Mr. Clough’s companion on life’s path. You’ve always been a treasure to me, but now you’re his Pearl. How sweet. How perfect.”

  Losing her longtime companion would have been a real blow for Rosanna not too long ago, however, she had Lord Winstead now. The thought of spending the rest of her life with him, day after day together, made her toes curl in anticipation.

  Rosanna gazed at Peter, recollecting her first chance meeting with him disguised as a common villager. No, there was nothing common about this fine man. He was never meant to live a secluded life of poverty, tucked in a corner of what should have been his own estate. His restoration to full stature with God and man had come about, and Rosanna’s heart treasured this fact.

  In just two weeks’ time they would begin their lives as Lord and Lady Winstead of Honor’s Point. Rosanna reflected with contentment, having found her heart’s true refuge at last. Her cup of blessing was full...very full indeed.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I want to thank my editor, Susan Baganz, for all the dedication and effort she has given to this book. Thanks also to my husband, John, for all his encouragement. My running partner, Sandy, has also been a steady source of feedback, encouragement, and inspiration.

  About the Author

  Susan Karsten lives in a small Wisconsin town, is the wife of a real estate broker, and mother three, and grandmother of three. Her hobbies include fitness, quilting, and reading.

  Her love for writing developed while in college where she earned a BS degree in Home Economics.

  Child-rearing days having drawn to an end, Susan now invests time in fiction writing. Having written three Regency historical romances, she is in the process of writing another book. Her personal blog can be found at Graciouswoman.wordpress.com.

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