The Ringmaster's Wife (12 page)

More than anything, Rosamund hoped he was right.

Maybe the trip would open her eyes. Maybe traveling to train Ingénue in her new home would change her enough that Rosamund could return home and become the mistress of Lord Brentwood's grand estates. And, just maybe, contentment would claim her somewhere along the way.

Colin reemerged then, and her thoughts sailed back to the trip ahead.

Rosamund instinctively smiled.

That is, until she noticed that he wasn't alone, and the smile that had so freely taken over her features faded almost as quickly.

The form of an impeccably dressed woman emerged from the mist alongside him. They strolled along the platform, she a vision by his side, confidently falling into step with him. Freely. As if they knew each other quite well.

The woman was statuesque, with olive skin and ebony hair
tucked in a sleek, boyish bob under a soft blue cloche. It matched a bright-blue-and-gold embroidered traveling coat. Her lips were poppy red and pressed into an elegant smile. She walked with Colin as if floating along the platform, with a sultry grace that Rosamund had only read about in novels and seen once in a silent film at a picture show in a London cinema. Never had she dreamed that such a beauty could actually exist in real life. And never had she expected that kind of beauty to be strolling in her direction.

Colin tipped his fedora back so he could lean in and say something to his companion over the roar of the train engine. She laughed in response, with a rosy smile that showed off a slight dimple in her left cheek.

Rosamund drew in a steadying breath as the pair approached.

“Saluto.”
The woman extended a greeting as they stopped in front of her.

Rosamund smiled through the curiosity piquing her interest, offering a congenial hello in return.

“My, my, Colin. You did not do this young lady justice. She is
bellissimo
,” the woman exclaimed with a thick Italian accent. “Are you sure she's not here to join the show?”

“Not exactly. Rosamund is accompanying one of our acquisition horses to Sarasota, to see the mare is trained properly,” he said.

Colin connected eyes with her, but seemed to avoid any questions Rosamund would have posed in hers.

“She plans to return to England in a few months' time.”

“Will she now? What a shame. I was looking forward to becoming better acquainted.”

Colin turned to welcome Ward, who'd run up behind their group with a ready smile and a half-eaten, wax paper–wrapped sandwich in his hand. He tipped his woolen newsboy cap up off his forehead and looked to Colin.

“Stock's all tucked in. We're ready to go,” he said, taking a bite of his sandwich with nonchalance.

The woman tipped her eyebrows, as if she were skeptical of something, but kept silent.

She turned her attention from Colin to Rosamund, smiling down on her with lovely long lashes that framed twinkling eyes. She possessed slight lines that creased at the corners as if she'd favored others, just like Rosamund, with thousands of polished smiles before.

“Lady Rosamund Easling.” Colin's voice was even, but tinged with a layer of something Rosamund hadn't noticed in him before. Indecision maybe? She hoped she hadn't judged it correctly. “This is Bella Rossi—one of the Rossi Family Flyers. They have top billing in the show.”

“
Lady
Easling?” Bella questioned.

Ward took the opportunity to jump in, nodding with enthusiasm. “Right. She is an actual lady. Can you believe it? Daughter of an earl with a doozy of an estate in Yorkshire.” He leaned in to Bella's side, whispering with his sandwich in hand, “That's just north of here.”

Bella narrowed her eyes at him in a slight glimmer of superiority.

A piece of bread drifted from his parcel to the ground, just grazing the polished edge of her black wingtips. Bella looked down at it, then returned her glare to his face. It was subtle, but enough that Rosamund caught the instruction for him to step back.

“Uh, Ward—” Colin issued silent disapproval with a slight shake of his head.

“But it's just Rosamund now, Ward,” Rosamund said, offsetting Bella's more severe reproach with an air of lightness to cut the awkwardness. “I think the mention of estates will become far less important as England fades with the train tracks behind us.”

“
Buona
, dear. A pity that your title means nothing in the United States. But no doubt you'll encounter that truth soon enough when we arrive in New York. I'm sure this trip will prove most instructive.”

Bella's counter was so swift, yet laced with syrup, that Rosamund was taken aback at the contradiction between her words and the inviting smile on the lips from which they'd escaped.

And in truth, she hadn't considered until that very moment how different it would be to enter a world where the title of earl's daughter carried very little weight—or none at all.

“Instructive. Yes, I'm sure it will be,” she repeated, keeping her reply congenial despite the bold veil of condescension Bella had drawn between them. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rossi. I look forward to our travels.”

Bella let out a lusty laugh, exclaiming, “
Molto innocente!
She's just as you described, Colin. And so English. I cannot remember the last time anyone has called me Miss. This is a treat!”

Rosamund flashed Colin a questioning glance, which he avoided by coughing into his palm.

“We're all set. Porter's got the trunks and the conductor's ready to go,” he noted, steering them back to the journey before them. He reached for Rosamund's bag.

“So you are really joining us after all?” Ward piped up. “We've managed to clip you from England? Well, Florida will be the better for it when you set foot on the circus grounds. We'll have to show you around. Introduce you to the rest of the performers you'll be working with.”

“It's not like that, Ward,” Colin corrected. “She's not staying.”

Ward's smile faded ever so slightly, showing he had been hopeful. “But I thought you said she was a bareback rider.”

Bella's nose tilted up. “A bareback rider?” She wasn't interested in hiding any disdain for Rosamund this time.

“She is, Ward,” Colin corrected. “Just not in the manner of a performer.”

“I am a rider, but I'm only accompanying my horse to see that she'll be properly looked after,” Rosamund clarified, though not feeling altogether confident about it in the moment. “Then I'll come back to my life here, Mr. Butler.”

“So you're not joining up?” He looked genuinely disappointed.

“Not officially. No.”

“That would've been the berries. You'd love the show. It's magnificent. The Big Top goes up in under four hours, but it can hold thousands of spectators. Can you believe it? A real canvas city moseying from town to town with animals and acts of all kinds. There's nothing like it in all the world.”

Rosamund was grateful for Ward's enthusiasm, especially given the strange air of awkwardness that seemed to have overtaken the platform.

All of a sudden the trip felt like a mistake.

A step far too drastic for a Yorkshire earl's daughter. The trepidation Rosamund had buried in her midsection grew by leaps and bounds now, turning her stomach into a cascade of swirling butterflies. She stared at the backdrop of London behind them, wondering if she should—or could—possibly turn back now.

“It's time to go,” Colin stated, snapping her back to the moment. “Our car's right here. Ladies? Ward?”

Rosamund watched, keenly noticing that Bella placed a hand on Colin's elbow as he led them to the train. Something was amiss, she just hadn't the slightest inclination what it was.

Her oxford heels seemed to sink into the platform, holding her back.

“Mr. Keary?”

Colin turned, almost as if expecting Rosamund to question
why the temperature around them had changed so suddenly. Bella and Ward turned too, halted, and looked to Colin. He paused long enough to whisper something, and they proceeded to the car. He waited until they'd latched the door behind them, then turned back to her.

“It's against my better judgment to tell you this, but under the circumstances, I assume you're looking for an explanation.”

“Not an explanation, really. It just feels as though something's amiss. Am I wrong?”

He shook his head. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“I'm not sure I understand what
this
is.” Rosamund paused, searched his face, noting the unmistakable shades of empathy that had fallen over it.

“Bella has been with the circus for several years. She's our biggest star—a celebrity in the States. I hate to say it, but that kind of notoriety means the star isn't always welcoming to a newcomer.”

“A newcomer? But we just told her I'm not joining up permanently.”

“Of course. There are just some business matters of the circus happening behind the scenes. It has nothing to do with you, okay? I've told her you're only accompanying Ingénue to America. But the Rossi family is notoriously private and can tend to be protective of their act. I don't think she bargained on traveling with a performer—part of the show or not—whom she'd just met.”

He shifted his weight ever so slightly.

“Are you changing your mind?” she dared ask.

“No,” Colin replied immediately, shaking his head. “I just want you to be sure you know what you're doing. That you're stepping on this train because you really want to, not because you're running away. And certainly not because you're walking into this with eyes closed.”

Fear crept up the length of her spine. Rosamund swallowed hard, feeling the first tinges of panic she'd allowed herself now threatening to draw tears in front of him.

“I think I'm doing both, but it doesn't matter. I can't go back now. Not when I've burned every bridge I have. My world is not like yours, Mr. Keary. It's not the circus. Or America. Easling Park exists on routine and propriety. At its center is a manor fraught with rules, and as a woman living in that world, I've broken every one of them by coming here today.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“It took nearly every ounce of courage I have to come this far. I'll need all I have to see this through.”

Colin looked from the train back to her, his speech stunted by whatever it was he wouldn't say. That explained nothing about why he was battling such discomfort in the moment.

He sighed, frustration evident.

“What Bella said is true: in America, English titles won't mean what they do here. In truth, she will continue to see you as beneath her.”

The forthright manner of his admission felt like a shot of ice water to the face.

“Beneath her?”

Colin nodded, even squinted his eyes with a twinge of empathy.

“I'm sure it's not a sensation you're used to, but yes. A horse trainer, titled English lady or not, is still new to the show. And anyone new is not on the level of a Ringling Brothers star. I'm sorry, but that's the way of it.”

“I see.” Rosamund nodded, looking up at the train car.

She could see Bella's cloche, the velvety top just tipping up through the window.

“I'll handle Bella, okay? I promise you that. Her presence
doesn't change anything. You and I have struck a deal, that you'll accompany Ingénue to Florida and train her there. If you still wish to do that, I've a ticket here with your name on it.”

Rosamund sighed, owning that her pride had been injured by Bella's snub.

True, the woman's beauty was stifling. Her manners had been unexpected, as was the way she fell into step so easily alongside Colin. And if Rosamund were honest with herself, she'd have to admit an earl's daughter would probably return the woman's barbs without civility. But Rosamund was looking for a choice in her life—an opportunity to break free and have at least one adventure before her life was decided for her.

She'd found it, and would have to accept whatever came with it.

No one would force her into the compartment unless she earnestly wanted to go.

“I don't wish to quarrel with her. If you say things will be okay, then I'll believe you. Bella is lovely and I'm glad to have met her. Truly.”

“Then you still plan to go through with this? You're ready?”

Rosamund nodded. “Yes. I'll go to Florida. I'll help you train Ingénue. Then I'll spend Christmas with my aunt in New York and I'll come back here in the spring.” She drew in a steadying breath. “And I'll marry Lord Brentwood, just as my parents want.”

“Sounds like you have it all figured out.”

“Crawley train about to depart . . .” A pause, then a repeat warning. “Crawley train about to depart.”

“We ought to go,” Colin acknowledged with a quick nod to the call for passengers to make their way to the train.

The station master blew his whistle with a shrill cry that cut through the air, causing an instant surge in the bustle on the platform.

“I know it's a lot to ask, but if you're up to it, I thought Bella could serve as your travel companion,” he said, baring the slightest
hint of a smile as he took her bag in hand. “So everything is properly done for you. Lord Brentwood would want to know his future wife was treated with the utmost respect.”

It was so like Colin to have thought of such a detail, especially given the circumstances that she was expected to marry another man, yet was trusting him with her life in the meantime.

Rosamund thought of that as he led her to their train compartment and helped her step inside. Details of business. Of noticing what people said and, moreover, sometimes what they wouldn't say . . . Colin Keary was astute in the art of it.

“So the boss managed to convince you, eh?” Ward broke into her thoughts, exclaiming when they appeared in the compartment doorway.