by Heather Boyd
“And you are just as important to me and my daughters. You are my governess. The one my daughters cried hours over in the carriage yesterday. You cannot discard our feelings so easily. You made us love you.”
Rosemary’s eyebrows shot up. “Love?”
“The girls certainly do. Who else would tell them stories and help them remember their mother? None of the other governesses I hired could be bothered to keep her memory alive. Only you did that for us. I can never show you enough gratitude.”
Rosemary stilled. “I’m sure that you can figure something out.”
His lips curved into a smile at her challenge. “There are many ways to prove you are adored. All of them required you to not run away. There will never be enough hours in the day to learn everything about you, but I promise to start now.”
Rose frowned. “Forgive me, my lord, but I’m not feeling very energetic right now.”
“I know. You’re carrying my child.” He caressed her face gently. “Back to bed for you.”
He swung her up into his arms, crossed to the bed, and settled her comfortably on it. Rosemary didn’t protest or say he wasn’t needed, and that gave him hope. He added a blanket over her legs to ensure she stayed warm and tucked it closely around her.
Rosemary caught his hand in hers. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I don’t understand anything, Rosemary, except that I hope you will not dismiss my feelings as easily as you do your own family.”
“Surely you can see I have my reasons.”
“Some, but they’re not enough in my opinion to make me accept them. Mrs. Lamb mentioned you planned to leave this morning, before I returned.”
Her gaze dropped from his. Her hands twisted in her lap. “I planned to be very far away before you discovered I’d gone.”
He stood back. “What do I tell my daughters?”
“What do you usually tell them when you misplace a governess?”
He took a deep breath to keep his frustration in check. “No matter what I say, you will never believe you’re more than that to me.”
“I cannot be more. Society expects—”
“Society’s expectations can go to hell. I want you.”
“Really?” Her brow rose. “And what if my services came at a price?”
“I’d pay any sum you named and more.”
“I’m certain that is not true. For instance, I doubt you’d do what my brothers would expect should they learn our affair was to continue.”
“Are you afraid they’d suggest we marry?”
“I’m not afraid of that.”
“Neither am I.” He leaned closer. “In fact, I had intended offering for you before I even learned your real name.”
“And you’ve come to your senses now? I’m not surprised.”
“No, I decided that since I was your present to yourself when we first met, and you clearly enjoy making decisions for me, that you should ask for my hand in marriage. You do like to be in charge. Why stop now, hmm?”
“That’s ridiculous. Gentlemen of the ton do not ask a whore to marry them.”
“I would never use such a vulgar term for so tempting a wench as you.” He grinned at her stubborn expression. “Since that isn’t the case here, I feel it only fitting that you should do the honors.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time.”
“Then I will wait.” There. He’d thrown out the challenge. It was up to Rosemary now to be brave and accept there was far more between them than mere lust.
She rounded on him. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Why would you want me to be your wife?”
“The question is why I shouldn’t. I know enough about you not to have made the decision lightly. I would have spoken of the subject before, but I thought I had ample time to convince you when we returned from Romsey. At the moment, I’m sure you’re planning to disappear the moment my back is turned.”
Rose didn’t deny it.
He leaned over the bed, getting close enough that she pressed back against the headboard. “Why don’t you explain to me why you are an imperfect candidate to be my wife and perhaps I will reconsider.”
Marriage or not, he really wanted to be the one she confided in about her past. “Convince me I’m wrong about you.”
Rosemary licked her lips. “You were not my first.”
“I’m not a fool.”
“Not even my fifteenth, truth be told.”
No surprises there. “How many? Do you know the number?”
“I ceased counting at seventy-four.”
“Hmm, a goodly sum.” He glanced at Rosemary. “Tell me about the first.”
Her eyes closed and Constantine ached to pull her into his arms and tell her not to. Yet he would know her secrets. All of them.
A shudder shook her slender body. “I was sixteen, alone and afraid and so desperately hungry that I’d begun stealing from farmhouses. One day I wasn’t quick enough in leaving. I’d lingered to straighten my hair when I spotted the lady of the house’s hair comb. How foolish that decision was. Her husband caught me and made me earn what I’d taken.”
The cold, emotionless retelling caused gooseflesh to rise on his nape.
“And what did you think of me when we met?”
A sad smile crossed her face. “When I saw you, I thought to spend a night with a man purely because I wanted to.”
“I did pay Mrs. Cohen well for your services the next morning.”
“I didn’t do it for the money, or the bet. I just… wanted to touch you.”
“As did I.” He moved closer. “A lucky coincidence for my daughters. They have grown in confidence and contentment since you came to live with us.”
“Children are easy to please. They do not see the wickedness behind the hand that guides them.”
“You’re a little hard on yourself. You did what you had to.”
She set her hands to his chest. “You’re not listening to me.”
“I’m listening. I’m sorry about the farmer who caught you and every other man who took advantage of your desperation. It was more or less what I expected. Everyone has baggage in their life.”
“Have you slept with so many men?”
He grinned. “No men at all. But women, that’s another matter.”
As he hoped, her eyes brightened with possessive fire. “How many?”
He laughed then and caught her face between his hands. “Shh, now, little vixen. I’d no idea you’d be so jealous.”
Her arms twined around his neck and she looked up at him with a fatuous expression that belied her mood. “How many were there, Constantine?”
“One hundred and three wenches, not counting you or my wife. I’ve kept an accounting of such matters from the beginning.”
She stared hard at him. “That’s a lot.”
“I was a wild young man sowing my oats as my father once put it.” He shrugged. “I had nothing like your explanation to make my behavior understandable. You sold your body to survive.”
Constantine brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “Rosemary. A name that finally suits you. I promise you, I do not hold your past against you. I thought you the bravest woman I’d ever known even when I didn’t know your real name or connections.”
He could sense her wavering and took advantage of her distraction. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, savoring the sweet passion of her lips. His pulse raced as her arms tightened about his neck. He kissed her passionately, as if this was the first of many. He hoped so because he feared he would never find another lover like her. He wanted to imprint her on his soul and make them inseparable.
He eased back eventually and met her gaze. “If the price of keeping you in my life means a permanent break with Romsey, then I will do so without reservations. I would make any sacrifice if it meant you would share my life. All you have to do is trust me.”
After a long moment, Rosemary’s chilled fingers slid across his op
en hand and captured him in a tight grip.
CHAPTER 28
ROSEMARY STUDIED THE far horizon as the sun set behind a thick bank of clouds. If not for Constantine’s hand firmly clasped about hers, she would have fled the carriage and given up this foolishness. Ahead lay Romsey. A place she despised. The only bright spark on the horizon was seeing Willow, Maisy, and Poppy. They were adorably innocent and, according to Constantine, utterly miserable again without her.
The carriage rattled over the small bridge and revealed the looming bulk of the abbey in the distance. She squeezed Constantine’s hand, but the panic she expected had left her. She felt no anxiety at being so close to the cause of her suffering. How strange. The sight didn’t fill her with the same dread that sometimes invaded her dreams. The abbey appeared perfectly ordinary in the daylight.
She eased her grip on Grayling and leaned toward the window. The last time she had been here she had been a girl of sixteen and easily impressed with the grandeur of her surroundings. But beneath that pristine exterior was a purpose that had filled her with revulsion and anger.
The main doors opened and servants trouped out to line the front stairs in wait of their arrival. Behind them came three women and one small boy. It made for a pretty picture, but the ones she longed to see were not on the stairs yet.
She lost sight of them at the curve of the road. Her eyes flew to Constantine’s.
“Courage.” He kissed her hand, as he had done every time she had doubted the wisdom of acceding to her brothers’ wishes on this journey.
When the carriage drew to a halt, Leopold, Tobias, and Oliver clambered out first, hurrying up the stairs toward the women. Constantine waited a little longer before he released her hand and stepped out. Heart pounding hard, Rosemary considered ordering the carriage to take her away without him. But she’d agreed to come, on the condition that he would help her leave exactly when she wanted to go, without argument or persuasion applied to stay beyond one further hour.
She climbed from the carriage unassisted and faced the front of the abbey. Rosemary lifted her face to the façade and inspected the ducal residence. This time, the structure failed to impress. She’d seen enough of the world to overlook the trappings of wealth. What mattered most lay beneath the polished exterior.
She smiled quickly at Constantine to reassure him that she wasn’t afraid anymore and moved toward the servants, rather surprised that they were led by one face she knew well.
Eamon Murphy stepped forward and smiled through the tears in his eyes. “Welcome home, Miss Randall.”
She frowned at him. “Oh, do stop blubbering, Eamon. I haven’t had the least reason to be cross with you for the last decade. But… there is always tomorrow, I suppose.”
Eamon laughed then and the servants all twittered a little nervously.
Leopold came down a few steps, the young duke holding his hand tightly. “Your Grace, may I present my sister, Miss Rosemary Randall. Rosemary, I am so happy to introduce you to the sixth Duke of Romsey.”
Rosemary, standing on a lower step, had the perfect position to be eye to eye with the boy. She leaned close to inspect him and then looked closer again when he grinned happily. Green eyes, but his face bore no resemblance to his supposed father. That man had possessed a narrow nose and delicate chin. There was nothing delicate about this boy.
Suspicions rising, she glanced at her brother in confusion. The boy had dimples. Only their side of the family was cursed with the blasted things. In truth, the boy looked like… Leopold.
She straightened and scowled at her brother. “You might have told me.”
“Actually, I did. You’re as bad as Oliver, you know. He never listens either.” Leopold drew her to him with a laugh and hugged her. “You see. There’s nothing to fear anymore. May I introduce you to everyone else?”
When she was released, her brothers had surrounded her, forcing Constantine to the outskirts of the group.
“There’s no need,” Beth said as she barged between them and pulled Rosemary into her arms. Her grip was tight and infinitely familiar. “I’ve been waiting for my sister all my life.”
After a moment, Rosemary had to loosen Beth’s grip. “Dearest, you’re crushing me.”
“I’m just so relieved to see you back home where you belong.” Beth laughed and drew back, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Come and let me introduce you to Mercy and Blythe. They’re dying to meet you.”
Rosemary was led past her brothers and taken to two ladies standing a little apart from the rest. The elder of the pair was utterly stunning. Dark hair, brilliant green eyes like the young duke’s. Rosemary searched for signs of deception and found none in her open expression.
“Welcome to Romsey, my dear. Leopold has told me so much about you.” Even the Duchesses voice was beautiful.
Rosemary refused to curtsy. She just couldn’t. She inclined her head instead. “Your Grace.”
Constantine’s fingers threaded through hers and gripped her hand tightly.
Her Grace’s eyes brightened with merriment. “I always rather thought we’d get along and you’ve just done the one thing to make that true. Just so you know, I don’t tend to follow the rules; I’m a terribly informal duchess and possess many more unforgivable vices that society undoubtedly gossips over. Oh, and I should warn you, I’m fond of matchmaking.”
The duchess’s gaze drifted to the man holding her hand, her eyes shrewd. Rosemary was certain the woman was busily plotting to make her brother propose a marriage between them. She almost laughed. Constantine wouldn’t propose. He was waiting to be proposed to. “Then that makes you the perfect Duchess of Romsey. Did you know the old duke intended for me to marry his son, your first husband?”
Her Grace nodded. “That is what Oliver suggested to us on his return. Edwin wasn’t a cruel man, Rosemary, but I can understand you wanted to make your own choices. I admire that.”
Tobias strolled over and placed his arm about the other woman. “Rosemary, meet Blythe, formerly Lady Venables and my wife. The woman determined to reform me and the only one who might have a chance.”
“Reformation is impossible and you know it, sir.” Blythe smiled at her husband affectionately before meeting Rosemary’s gaze. “It is very good to finally meet you. I hope you will stay so we might become better acquainted.”
Rosemary made a noncommittal sound. Everyone was being so nice, so pleased to see her, and she didn’t know quite how to behave. However, Tobias’s wife appeared to be kind and she didn’t want to be at odds with her youngest brother. He’d been so hesitant with her so far. “Congratulations to you both. I hope you will both be very happy together.”
A light snow began to fall and Leopold shooed everyone inside. The king at work with his subjects. She shook her head at how everyone still listened to him. As children, his bossy tendencies had driven her to rebel against him as much as to her parents’ expectations. Even Constantine passed through the door without looking back.
Rosemary remained where she was and stared at the gaping black maw of Romsey’s open front door.
Warmth slid over her hand then and she looked up into Tobias’s face. “Is there space left for me in your affections? I tried to get to you, but they were so strong,” he said quietly.
Rosemary’s heart broke. The hesitant smile on Tobias’s face was so painfully familiar that she started to sob. His long arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his chest. When she moved her hands over his back, she detected odd lumps covering his skin beneath the linen. He had been whipped. When he stilled, she buried her face in his shoulder and cried her heart out.
How could anyone have hurt her brother? He was the kindest and gentlest of them all. He rocked her gently and handed her a lacey scrap of handkerchief that clearly belonged to his wife. Rosemary released Tobias and quickly dabbed at her tears. She never cried. At least, she never did where anyone could see. At least she had waited until the inhabitants of the abbey had returned indoors.
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Feeling foolish, she raised her head. Tobias’s gaze was as watery as her own. He pressed his forehead to hers. “Thank God you’re here, safe and sound. Any longer and Leopold would have had a seizure. His temper has not improved with age.”
Rosemary grinned. “I noticed that.”
“I was almost sure you had.” He glanced toward the door. “It takes courage to cross the threshold.”
She gripped Tobias hand. “The boy.”
“You saw it faster than I did.” Tobias sighed. “Of Leopold’s making. There is no one left to have our revenge on. That moment passed with young Edwin’s first breath. Do you still enjoy sweet treats, Rosemary?”
“Of course.”
Tobias nodded and patted his stomach. “Then you’ll enjoy Romsey. Mercy has a sweet tooth. I always enjoy my visits.”
“You don’t live here?”
He chuckled. “No. I live at Harrowdale with Blythe. I’m not suited for society, but I visit often.”
Rosemary sighed. “I’m not suited for it either.”
“Then you’ll have to be like me and learn all over again.” He left her then, standing on the stairs alone with only the falling snow for company.
The same feeling of desolation she had striven to ignore for the past ten years came back in full force. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. She wanted what everyone else had.
The first step was the hardest. She reached the very threshold and paused as she looked inside. Constantine was waiting on the black-and-white tile, a smile tugging his lips. The cold opulence of Romsey faded in the face of his warmth. But to get to him required all her determination. She raised her hand to touch the wood frame. Not a dream. Not a nightmare.
Using the door as leverage, she pushed her way inside and walked to Constantine.
He cupped her face. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You truly don’t know what you are talking about, do you?”
“Not a clue, but I’m sure you’ll educate me eventually.” He glanced up. “I’m on my way to see my daughters. Should they ask, will you be visiting with them today?”
“I am their governess.”
