Kenneth stayed silent for a beat, wondering if his father was actually being serious or if that was his patriarch’s attempt at a joke as well.
The Lady Somerholm was wife to Kenneth’s fiercest political opponent, the Earl of Somerholm. How was his father asking him if he was going to honor an invitation to their ball, knowing full well the rivalry that existed between him and the Earl?
“Judging by your silence, you obviously weren’t planning on honoring the invitation.” The Duke continued, “Your mother and I, however, think that you should.”
“What!” Kenneth exclaimed. “I really do not understand, Father. Why? To what end?”
“We’ve been around politics longer than you, son, and certainly before you were born. One garners more support by appearing graceful. And one way is by honoring invitations and conducting yourself with poise, even if the invitation originated from your opposition. I might not support your political objectives, son, but I most certainly would want you to succeed regardless,” the Duke responded, leaving Kenneth speechless.
“I can succeed via many means, Father,” Kenneth protested.
“Aren’t you about to sponsor a bill in parliament?” the Duke remarked in exasperation.
“How do you know about that?” Kenneth queried.
“Let’s make a deal. I’ll engender support for your bill, son, on the condition that you attend the ball and conduct yourself with grace. Do that and I’ll do my best to help your bill get passed in parliament,” the Duke responded dryly.
Kenneth paused to look into his father’s eyes.
His father had stayed out of politics and lobbying since his retirement two years ago, after surviving a health scare. Since Kenneth had taken over in the House of Lords, his father had barely lifted a finger, even when he’d approached him for help.
Having his father’s support on the bill he was about to push through the House would be a huge boost. As in spite of his father’s absence from the House, he still wielded a considerable amount of influence amongst his peers. If all it took was for Kenneth to go to a stupid ball, then so be it.
With his decision made, he stretched forth his hand to shake his father’s.
“Deal,” he said, as he took his father’s hand in his. “Would you be honoring the invitation as well?” he queried.
Chapter Two
Lady Rose Vaughan, daughter of the Earl of Somerholm, stood in her father’s study reviewing a paper that had been published by the Marquess of Walsrock.
The paper basically detailed his political views and ideals on sensitive issues ranging from poverty alleviation programs to taxation.
She had stumbled on it when she came into the study to look for her father. Apparently, he had been reading it and left it poking from amongst the books on his shelf, which was what had drawn her attention.
Instead of walking out of the study to continue looking for her father, she’d turned and pulled the paper from the shelf.
She didn’t bother to sit because she needed to shelve the paper and dash out of the study at the first sign of danger, the danger being either of her parents approaching the study.
Her mother would have strongly disapproved of her reading about such matters. These things should not be Rose’s concern, who instead should be preparing for the ball that was happening in a fortnight. She could even hear her mother’s voice in her head if that happened.
Bluestocking daughter of mine. God forbid you continue to resist my efforts and turn out to be an ape-leader.
Her father, on the other hand, wasn’t as absorbed with her getting married as her mother was. In any case, he already had a male heir. Any further anxiety he showed toward getting her wedded was brought on by her mother’s worrying.
His only issue was with Rose’s differing views on politics, something he already blamed himself for. Not her views, but the fact that she had an interest in politics in the first place.
Ever since she was a child, she had stuck tightly to him, preferring his company over that of anyone else. As a result, she’d picked up his penchant for reading and that included books and newspapers. She’d also stuck close enough to always be within earshot of her father’s political conversations, so much so that she’d begun to develop an interest in the topic.
At an early age, Rose had developed an interest in political topics, and she had read enough to have her own opinions.
In reality, Rose was excited about the ball that her mother had decided to throw, even though she knew that the real reason for the ball was yet another of her mother’s attempts to find her a suitor.
She’d always loved the London Season. She was not only thrilled at the opportunity to wear her new gowns, but also to meet new people all through the season. Her schedule followed a carefully drafted social calendar that her mother always prepared at the beginning of the season.
In spite of her enthusiasm at the beginning of each season, her mother, and to some extent, some of her peers, always succeeded in dampening the mood for her, season after season, by turning it into an engagement race. Sometimes she had considered going into the season and just choosing the first suitor that came after her, just to pacify her mother and get her off her back. And yet, season after season, she found that she couldn’t get herself to settle for just anyone.
And here she was at twenty, in yet another London season and she was still single and not betrothed. She sighed and heaved her chest at the futility of the whole exercise and pushed it to the back of her mind. There was no use getting sullen on the eventual outcome of the new season when it had only just begun. She reminded herself to have a good outlook and expectation of the future.
For now, however, the future and the current season should be the furthest thing from her mind, as what she was reading began to entrance her.
The Marquess of Walsrock, right! She exclaimed in silent admiration as she continued to ravenously pour through the contents of the publication.
She’d heard about the Marquess of Walsrock on numerous occasions. How could she not? After all, he was her father’s fiercest opponent. The Marquess’ political views were literally the puns and the crux of many a joke in the Somerholm household, to everyone except Rose. She’d always wondered at his ideals that seemed to have the rest of London up in fits of outrage. Slowly, that wonder had turned to interest in getting to understand these ideals. Eventually, she found that she shared similar views with her father’s political opponent and had, in fact, risen up in defense of the Marquess’ ideals on many occasions, to the consternation of her father.
And now, stumbling upon yet another of his published papers, she wondered why the rest of London was finding it so difficult to understand and accept the Marquess’ ideals.
They are brilliant. Revolutionary, even.
And yet, the ton had literally refused to give a listening ear to his ideals.
Why would they? The entitled and self-aggrandized lot.
She’d never hidden her disgust and disapproval of how London’s upper echelon of society conducted themselves. From infancy, she’d always been close to the servants in her father’s manor and had over time, learned to see her kind through the eyes of the commoners.
She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth softly, in un-lady like fashion, one that would have earned her a stern look from her mother if Lady Somerholm was in close vicinity.
Mother’s skin is most certainly itching by now.
She needed to be done and out of here in a jiffy.
She flipped the paper and continued reading, finding herself nodding in agreement at intervals. Somehow, the Marquess’ words and arguments had drawn her in, so much so that she had ceased to pay attention to her immediate surroundings and the initial side mission of listening for danger.
“There she is, diamond of the first water. Does Mother know that you are in here?”
Her brother’s voice startled her.
“Gosh! Adam! You gave me a fright,” she responded. Turning t
o face her brother, she calmed her beating heart and hid the paper she was reading from view.
Her brother referencing her as a diamond of the first water was in no way a compliment. Its origin in the Somerholm household was with her father, who used it as a compliment for her, in reference to her beauty. However, whenever her brother, Adam Vaughan, the Viscount of Hartington, used it, it was done in jest. After all, she was a supposed beauty, who had remained a spinster till now with no promising suitor in sight. The sibling rivalry between them had persisted since childhood, even though Hart, on his own part, refused to acknowledge its existence out loud.
“You don’t need to hide the paper behind you, My Lady,” he blurted out with contempt. “I stood here watching you for a bit. I already know the publication that has you spellbound,” Adam replied in his usually condescending tone. Family member or commoner, Adam always sounded condescending, except when he was addressing either of his parents or any other entity with a higher title than his. He was thoroughbred after all, a true epitome of a titled male of the British ton, high in the instep, arrogant, snobbish, overly proud, and very much aware of social rank.
It helped in no small measure that he was friends with Prince William, the King’s son, and also heir to a very large entail.
“Do you have nothing better to do with your time than to bother me? A light-skirt to philander with, perhaps?” she fired back.
“Crikey!” Adam swore, a smug look plastered across his face. “What do you take me for, a shark? Can you not see the upright gentleman that I am?” he mocked.
Of course, Rose knew a fair deal of her brother’s business about town—the ladies he courted and bedded, both peerage and barques of frailty alike. He, after all, was a handsome devil with the wiles and charms of a Greek God.
“Oh, please! You are no more saintly than the devil himself,” she responded in disgust.
This brought hearty laughter to Adam’s lips. “Dear Sister! I’m sure you have more important things to worry about than my stellar reputation. Shouldn’t you be preparing for the ball, the same one Mother is going through the stress of hosting for you?” Mischief gleamed in his eyes, insinuating the underlying excuse she already knew was the reason for the ball—another attempt by Mother to get her married off.
She swore heavily as her brother was succeeding in crawling under her skin like he always did.
Mother’s skin was definitely itching seriously by now.
He laughed again before settling his gaze back on Rose.
“Well, I guess Mother finally has nothing to worry about anymore. On dit, it seems Father has stepped in and handled her worry of your betrothal,” Adam snickered.
“Wait, what?” Rose exclaimed in horror, her face suddenly turning ashen.
Adam had scored another point and was in the middle of yet more hearty laughter when Lady Somerholm walked into the study.
“Pray tell, what in God’s name are you doing here?” her mother shrieked, addressing Rose alone, as though she hadn’t passed Adam right there in the doorway on her way in.
“Mother, is this true?” Rose queried, suddenly drained of strength.
“Is what true?” her mother responded, feigning ignorance.
“What Adam said. Is it true? Is Father making a deal to wed me to someone?” After a brief pause, she added, “And who is this person, Mother?”
Instead of responding immediately, Lady Somerholm turned and glared at her son, who had an evil grin plastered across his face, obviously as a result of his sister’s discomfort. That act from her mother meant that either Adam was saying the truth or that her mother was scolding him for stressing his sister with such lies. Rose sincerely hoped it was the latter.
“What I know, my dear, is that your father and I care very much and are worried about you,” her mother responded, while taking Rose’s hand in hers. Her skin had suddenly grown cold to the touch.
So it is true? Adam isn’t jesting.
“Mother, you had something to do with this, didn’t you?” Rose blurted out after seeing the hint in her mother’s eyes.
“Oh, for goodness sake, Rose. Don’t you want to be married? Don’t you envy all your peers who are? It isn’t the end of the world if your father and I tried to help,” her mother scolded in response, trying to take the upper hand.
“By all means help, Mother. It is not like she could find one herself,” Adam fired from the doorway. Her brother was still having a good time at her expense.
“Don’t you have something better to do?” their mother fired back, turning briefly to glare at the laughing Adam.
“I certainly do, Mother. Off I go. Good luck, dear Sister,” he said while laughing, as he retreated from the doorway and out of sight.
Rose could still hear his laughter as he went along. Her mind immediately went into a state of turmoil.
Who is Father making this deal with? Definitely this has Mother’s hand written all over it.
“Rose…Rose!”
In the middle of her reverie, she hadn’t heard her mother calling her name. Not until her mother pinched her hand did her mind return back to the present.
“This is a good thing, Rose,” her mother said as soon as she realized she had secured Rose’s attention once more.
After a brief pause, Rose finally found her voice.
“So if this is a done deal and it has already been decided between you and Father who I am to marry, what then is the reason for the ball?” she queried, her anger beginning to swell in intensity.
Her mother sighed.
“Your father and I knew that you weren’t going to go along with the betrothal if you were simply told. The plan, then, was to organize a ball where he was going to approach you in full view of your peers. If for any reason you had still found a way to turn down his proposal, I and your father would then have insisted that you get wedded to him.”
Rose’s mouth fell open but no words came forth. They had truly planned this to the tiniest detail, all without seeking her opinion or consent on the matter. And if not for her brother’s big mouth, she would have been none the wiser.
The truth was, only moments earlier, she had decided to look forward to the whole season with hope and optimism. The day of her ball hadn’t even arrived and this was already turning into a disaster. Her excitement and spirit had been dampened because her parents had decided to meddle in her affairs once more.
If only…
That thought was paused as another began to gnaw at the back of her mind.
Who was the suitor her parents had chosen?
Her mind raced through all the options that she remembered and no name that came to mind was able to lift her spirits. There was always something wrong with each and every one of them, as she’d found out from her liaisons in previous seasons.
“Come now, Daughter. Let us go and choose a beautiful ball gown that you will wear on the day,” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Mother, wait. I would like to know who you and Father have chosen.”
There was a brief pause before her mother proceeded to answer her question.
“Noah Norton, the Earl of Rockgonie,” her mother replied simply.
Rose’s mind had to do a little searching before she was able to recollect who Lord Rockgonie was. After all, there were a lot of peers who went unnoticed during the London season.
“What!” she exclaimed, as her memory of Lord Rockgonie returned. “No, Mother. Please, no!” she protested.
Lord Rockgonie was a silent and mysterious figure who in spite of his title and peerage, had managed to stay unmarried. Though the rules were different for gentlemen than they were for ladies, most of London’s high society had come to the conclusion that there was something weird about the Earl of Rockgonie. Now in his thirties, Lord Rockgonie rarely attended the routs and balls of the London Season and mostly kept to himself. His business was largely unknown and for London’s gossip vine, that was rife with information on almost anyone and ever
yone, that was an absurdity.
And as was often the case, when not much information was available on any person of interest, rumors replaced the facts and were pedaled through the vine.
“Not Lord Rockgonie,” Rose continued protesting.
“Will you stop your whining this instant?” her mother scolded. “The Earl of Rockgonie is a wonderful gentleman and I am most assured that you will find happiness with him. Now come and let us get to the business of your ball gown for that night,” her mother concluded, and turned to exit the study.
Rose exhaled and made to follow, only to realize that she still held the paper she was reading earlier in her hand.
A Ravishing Lady For The Rebellious Marquess (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 2
