A Melody for Rose (The Wednesday Club Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  “Quite right,” he answered. “And it was a very tasty one.” He touched his napkin to his lips. “Mowbray, forgive me if I’m an insensitive and unobservant brother, but didn’t I leave you at Linfield Lisle some time ago?”

  “You did.” Mowbray poured himself tea.

  “Then what, may one enquire, are you doing in town raiding my breakfast table?”

  “I came up last night. You weren’t here. I went to bed. And woke with an appetite, which is why I came down. I smelled bacon. Of which there is none, thanks to you.”

  “Succinct, I’ll give you that.” Miles grinned. “All right. Let’s try again. Why are you here in London, Mowbray?”

  “Ah.” His brother nodded and reached into his pocket. “Had to bring you something.”

  He tossed a small leather box across the table and Miles reached out, nimbly catching it in one hand. “What’s this?”

  “Open it and see,” replied Mowbray.

  Miles did. Then sighed and stared at his brother. “How did she find out?”

  “Lord only knows, because I haven’t a clue.”

  Miles looked back at the ring in the box. It was a ruby, a near perfect ruby, with several diamonds clustered at the top and bottom. The arrangement gave it more of an oval shape, even though he knew the stone itself was almost circular.

  Unique and clearly old, it had travelled many years through time before ending up in the Linfield family, being handed down to the oldest son upon the occasion of his engagement. Thus precipitating Miles’s question.

  Barely a day since they’d spoken to Rose’s mama, and already his mother was making plans.

  “Congratulations, by the way. Nice girl.” Mowbray was casting his eyes over the paper as he munched on toast. “I don’t see an announcement here though…” He tapped the Times.

  “And you won’t.” Miles shrugged. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Oh?” Mowbray looked mildly interested.

  “Formal permission, you know. Has to come from the head of the family, who is apparently living in a yurt somewhere in outer Mongolia.”

  Mowbray’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like to stay in a yurt. Bloody cold in some of those places, and yet yurts seem to keep everyone warm…it’s fascinating…”

  “To some,” replied Miles dryly. “But over breakfast, here in this house, not very much.” He stood. “Besides, they probably bring the yaks into the yurts with them. Can you imagine the stench?” He shuddered.

  Mowbray grinned, giving him a boyish air of both charm and wickedness. “No. I’m just going to sit here and enjoy the experience of listening to you speak of yaks and yurts in the same sentence. Over breakfast.”

  “I can disavow you, you know.”

  “No you can’t. I’m your only brother. If you get trampled to death by a yak in a yurt, for example, I have to continue the line.”

  Miles gave up, shook his head, and laughed. “I’m going for a ride in Hyde Park. Where there are, to the best of my knowledge, no yaks, nor any danger of being trampled to death by ‘em. What are your plans now you’re here?”

  “I’m going to meet the ladies for tea this afternoon.”

  “What ladies?”

  “Our ladies.”

  Miles gritted his teeth. “Not Mama? Please say not Mama?”

  “No, of course not.” Mowbray shuddered a little. “I ran into Matthew Davenport yesterday evening as I was riding in. He said that Judith’s back and that they were all getting together today. He invited me to join them for tea.”

  “Humph.” Miles snorted.

  “Nose out of joint, dear boy?”

  “Don’t dear boy me, sproutling. Where are you meeting them?”

  Mowbray smiled. “You really want to know?”

  Eyes narrowed, Miles advanced on him. “Do you want to start this right here?” He seized a silver platter and waved it threateningly.

  “Hold,” laughed Mowbray. “We’re meeting at the Davenports at four.”

  “Better.” Miles replaced the tray. “I will be joining you. Since my almost-fiancée will be there, it’s only proper.”

  “People will know already, Miles. You, of all people, are aware of the way London works.”

  Miles nodded. “One of the reasons I’ll be there. As part of a group, including Rose, it will seem less gossip-worthy.” He walked toward the door, pausing as he heard Mowbray mumble something under his breath. “What?”

  “I merely observed that from now on, anything that brings you and Miss Rose together will be gossip-worthy.” Mowbray met his brother’s gaze. “And you damn well know it. Be careful, Miles. Just be careful.”

  Miles nodded, surprised by Mowbray’s comment.

  But then again, he’d never underestimated his brother’s uncanny brilliance. Could he have guessed the true nature of Miles’s almost engagement? He wouldn’t put it past him, dammit.

  Family could be a bloody nuisance at times.

  He found himself holding the ring box. What the hell was he going to do with this?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rose met the curious gazes of her friends with a superficial equanimity, while her insides developed a severe case of collywobbles.

  She’d not understood that the subterfuge she and Miles were beginning would be of such interest, and she mentally flayed herself for her stupidity. Of course it would be of interest. Had she really imagined that her best friends would casually mention it and then move on to a discussion of the latest style in bonnets?

  “So tell us,” Lydia pointed a finger at her with a fierce look. “How did all this come about so quickly? And why were we not included?”

  Rose sighed. “Lydia, my dear, it wasn’t exactly how you think it was.”

  Ivy shook her head. “No, Rose. You’re engaged. It was exactly as we think it was.”

  “There’s no way to become engaged without it being exactly as we think it was.” Judith grinned her endorsement.

  Grabbing on to her control with metaphorical fingers, Rose clenched and unclenched her teeth. “Look, the matter of my engagement to Miles is…is…intensely personal.” It was the only card she could play. “Especially since the head of the Glynde-Beauchamp family is presently milking yaks somewhere in the East, well away from things like the Royal Mail. So we cannot make a formal announcement until he’s approved the match.”

  There. That sounded logical. She hoped.

  Lydia sighed. “That’s not what I meant. I was speaking of the moment he asked…”

  “Ah. Well.” Rose tried not to wince. “As I said. Personal.”

  Judith, displaying a welcome understanding, agreed. “I think we can all believe that, Rose,” she said, shooting a stern look at Lydia. “There are moments in our lives that are quite huge, but that we’d prefer to keep to ourselves. If only for a little while.”

  “Thank you,” breathed Rose.

  “Humph.” Lydia snorted.

  “The main thing for now is that at least Miles and I are spared the indignities that are foisted on eligible young ladies and bachelors.”

  “There is that,” agreed Ivy. “I’m finding out how unpleasant those can be. Almack’s would have been a nightmare if I’d not been in the company of Miss Prudence and her Uncle.”

  Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Bit stuffy, but I suppose better than having half the pimply prospects forced upon you for a dance.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Rose shuddered dramatically.

  “By the way,” continued Lydia. “I have decided not to have an affair with the Duke.”

  There was a moment of respectful silence.

  “Er, that’s good.” Ivy blinked.

  “I’m sure we’re glad to hear it,” added Rose.

  “Fiona’s Duke? You were going to have an affair with him?” Judith’s eyebrows shot up. “Did he know?”

  “Yes, I was considering it, and no, he didn’t know.” Lydia’s response was casual. “Which is probably a good thing, since I’ve no
w changed my mind.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” answered Judith. “Changing your mind about that particular goal is a good thing indeed.”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. I’m still seriously considering having an affair. Just not with Fiona’s Duke.”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake, his name is Maidenbrooke. Colborne Hartsmere, Duke of Maidenbrooke. I wish you’d stop referring to him as Fiona’s Duke. He wasn’t and he isn’t.”

  Ivy’s outburst brought another moment of complete silence. And three pairs of interested eyes rotated simultaneously to her face.

  She rolled hers. “Let’s move on.”

  “An excellent idea.” Rose took pity on her and turned the conversation. “Is Matthew in town, Lydia?”

  “What?” Lydia dragged curious eyes from Ivy. “Matthew? Yes, he is. Why?”

  “I may need some help with a bit of a mystery that has arisen.”

  She proceeded to tell them about the music, and the surprise she’d experienced when she’d begun to play a piece she herself had written. Their responses were much as hers had been—confusion and shock.

  The discussion ranged from the unlikely to the improbable as they enjoyed a light luncheon and retired to the parlour. It was a time of delight for Rose, being with these four women who had become her friends last year and now seemed to be a permanent fixture in her life. She could barely remember what her life had been when they weren’t there.

  Even Judith, married now to a fine man, was still the essential Judith, quiet, thoughtful and funny. She was also very happy, as one could easily see by how quick she was to smile, and the little glow that emanated from her now and again.

  She was in love. That much was evident. And her love was returned in full.

  Rose wondered what that would be like. Her mind darted immediately to Miles.

  As if summoned, a tap on the parlour door heralded the arrival of Matthew, Mowbray and Miles himself.

  “Hallo,” said Matthew. “I want tea. Miles obviously has none at his house so he’s joined me and brought his brother too. Damn cadgers.”

  Miles grinned. “It’s true. We have no tea.” His eyes drifted over Rose, and she found herself gulping. “I do promise to keep Mowbray away from breakables. Do you have wooden teacups, by any chance?”

  He grinned at Lydia, who shook her head and laughed back. “You are most welcome, sir. As are you, Mowbray. And this is not a formal room, so there’s nothing in here that’s priceless.”

  Mowbray sighed. “That’s good. It’s nice to see you all together again.”

  “It’s good to be together again,” answered Judith. “And we’ve just heard about Rose’s manuscript and the unusual situation you’re facing…”

  The gentlemen sat, went over the entire thing again for Matthew’s benefit, and then spent the next hour or so discussing various ways to approach the matter.

  Tea was served, accompanied by fresh scones and other tasty delicacies from the Davenport kitchens. Pretty much everything was consumed without incident, although Lydia did have to demonstrate some rapid dexterity when catching a saucer Mowbray’s elbow accidentally dislodged from a side table.

  “I would be interested to learn if other composers have discovered anything similar,” mused Miles. He’d ended up sitting next to Rose on the sofa, which seemed logical since it was the only seat available when he came to choose. She wondered if he’d noticed the quick looks exchanged between the girls.

  “It would be a sensible first step to take, I would guess,” answered Matthew. “If there are other instances of such plagiarism, then that might prove an avenue to whoever is doing this.”

  Lydia shifted, settling her skirts. “Well, it’s a conundrum, without doubt. And I shall be happy to go along with whatever is necessary in pursuit of the answers.” She looked around, her gaze landing on Miles and Rose. “That said, I should offer my congratulations to you two, since you’re both here at the same time.”

  “Oh,” Judith jumped guiltily. “As should I. Congratulations.”

  Ivy sighed. “You both knew you couldn’t keep it quiet. So you might as well get used to it.”

  “Huh?” Matthew looked bewildered.

  Lydia explained the situation carefully, making sure her brother was actually listening to her by punching him in the arm.

  “Ow.” He rubbed it, a gesture that spoke of many years’ practice. “You mean Miles and Rose are going to get married?” He turned to look at them both. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “Got it in one, old chap,” grinned Mowbray. “That’s the right of it. I brought the engagement ring down with me from Linfield Lisle yesterday. Quite a stunner, if I say so myself.”

  The silence that followed could, quite accurately, be described as deafening.

  Mowbray seemed to shrink into his chair under the weight of all the wide-eyed gazes that fell upon him after his pronouncement. “Er…what?”

  “A ring?” Lydia’s voice rose in question as she made the most of turning her gaze to Rose’s bare left hand.

  “Oh bollocks,” muttered Mowbray, blushing.

  “Quite,” remarked Miles, ice forming on his breath. “You, dear brother, have just completely ruined the surprise.” He cleared his throat and glanced at Rose. “Sorry.”

  Rose looked at him and raised her hands in sympathy. “These things happen.”

  Ivy stood. “I propose we all take a turn around the hall and give these two a moment of privacy. What say you?”

  The scramble to the door was only hindered by Mowbray who trod on Lydia’s dress, tugging at the hem. However it was not a disaster and within a minute the room had emptied, leaving Miles and Rose staring at each other on the sofa.

  “I had forgotten about the ring,” admitted Miles, taking the little box from his pocket.

  “How the devil did anyone at Linfield Lisle find out?” Rose couldn’t quite grasp the entire matter.

  “My first question too,” he chuckled. “My mother has her spies, I suppose. And you have servants who probably overheard some of our conversation yesterday. That’s all it takes.”

  “My God,” she slumped into the cushions. “Does this mean our subterfuge isn’t going to work? If the whole world knows, regardless of whether we’ve made any kind of announcement…”

  Miles thought about it. “Well, we did want word to spread. I’ll admit that it has happened a lot faster than I anticipated, but I doubt anyone else would ask so blatantly. These are your friends, Rose. My friends too. They are allowed to be curious. Others, less important in our lives…they’re not.”

  “All right, that makes sense.” She looked at him. “But Miles. A ring? That’s a very solid statement, don’t you think?”

  He opened the box, and her eyes rested on the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. Red fire darted from the centre of what had to be an enormously valuable ruby, capped with several icy diamonds above and below.

  “Oh. Oh Miles…” She touched it delicately with one finger.

  “Do you like it?”

  “How could I not? How could anyone not love it?” She continued to stare at it. “It must be very old.”

  “It is,” he nodded, taking it out of the box. “Some say the ruby was stolen from some Indian Rajah several hundred years ago. I do know it’s been in my family for over two centuries.” He took her hand, turned it palm up and placed the ring in it. “Would you put it on? I’d like to see how it looks on your hand.”

  She gulped again, nodding silently as she slid it onto her ring finger. It fit as if it had been made for her.

  “Oh Miles,” she sighed again. “’Tis the most beautiful piece of jewellery I think I’ve ever seen.” She closed her eyes. “But I can’t possibly wear it.”

  “Why not?”

  He sounded surprised, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “It’s a real engagement ring. We don’t have a real engagement. It would be…I don’t know…cheating or lying somehow.” Her gaze dropped back to the magnificent
jewel. “Wouldn’t it?”

  He chuckled. “All right. Yes, I agree. How about this? You keep it, and if the times comes when we face a serious challenge to our stratagem—say the Prince Regent congratulates us or something—then you can whip it out of your reticule and slip it on.”

  “Uhh….” She hesitated. “No, I can’t. I’d be terrified every moment that I’d lose it.”

  He straightened. “In that case, Miss Rose Glynde-Beauchamp…” he took the ring off her finger, “I’m going to ask you to wear this ring as a symbol of our improper engagement.” He slid it back onto her finger. “Now. That’s formal, and you can keep it on at all times without feeling like you’re cheating or lying to anyone.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but had no chance,

  He tugged her into his arms and kissed her.

  It wasn’t a friendly, here’s-to-a-nice-day kind of kiss. This one involved warm firm lips, tongues, and hands around each other. Rose was astounded to find that she’d moved both arms around Miles’s neck, even as he had slid his around her waist.

  They were touching, holding, kissing, barely breathing as the moment swept from romantic into passionate in the blink of an eye.

  Rose found herself moaning deep in her throat as she learned the taste of him, loving the way his tongue sought out her own and duelled with it, lighting all sorts of exciting tingles deep inside her body.

  God, he was good at this, she thought, aching to get closer.

  But within moments she was free, and he was settling his jacket, looking a bit self-conscious. “Um…I’m sorry, Rose, that wasn’t…I know that’s not really supposed to be part of our improper engagement…”

  She fought for composure. “Don’t you dare apologise,” she said. “Because then I’d have to, and I don’t want to.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” Some demon of honesty took over the words coming out of her mouth. “I liked it. Very much. And if being improperly engaged means we can do it again, then that would make me quite happy.”

  She saw Miles’s throat move as he swallowed. “Really?”

  “Yes. In fact,” in for a penny, in for a pound, “I would be most pleased to explore such matters even further. With you.”