The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (8 page)

“What are you doing?” her mother whispered, leaning over to have a peek.

Rose tried to draw the card away, but saw by her mother’s expression that she was too late. “You told me not to fidget. So I’m drawing instead.”

“My dear,” her mother said gently, “you’ve captured him perfectly.” She paused a moment to let out a long breath.

Rose understood the meaning of her mother’s forlorn sigh. “I know, Mama. I do find him fascinating, but he’s in love with someone else. I won’t allow my heart to be engaged.”

Her mother patted her hand. “I’m afraid you lost your heart to him that very first day. That’s how it happens with Farthingales. One look and they know. But all hope is not lost. Despite appearances, I think he may be beguiled by you as well.”

Rose couldn’t help letting out an oinkish snort in response to her mother’s comment. Of course, the sound drifted across the center aisle to reach Lord Emory’s ears. He turned to stare at her, and then his expression softened and she saw the crinkle at the corners of his eyes just before he gave her a rakish smile.

Her mother gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Most interesting.”

The man may have smiled at her, but he was going to undress for his countess tonight and propose to her by the end of the month unless she, Nicola, and the entire Emory family succeeded in changing his mind.
Crumpets, what a coil!
Would he still like her after she abducted him?

The discordant sounds
of Melissa Winthrop’s harp filtered through Julian’s ears with as much charm as metal grinding on metal. Was everyone else struggling not to wince? Or was he the only one who considered the sound offensive to his ears?

Usually, he slipped away during these tedious recitals. But not this evening. He’d taken the first seat in a center aisle so that he could stretch his long legs, but his position also offered him a clear view of Rose and that was a problem.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off the girl.

He studied her through hooded lids. Discreetly, of course. Too much was at stake to do otherwise. He had to feign disinterest until he found that man at the top of Napoleon’s ring of English traitors, the one who could bring down the Prince Regent and his family and deliver England into the little Corsican’s hands.

Valentina had her usual death grip on his arm, for she considered him one of her possessions and no one would share him until she was ready to move on to other amusements. He would then be thrown into her refuse pile along with the other men whose hearts she had broken. He longed for the day to arrive. This assignment had long ago grown tedious.

He stopped staring at Rose and forced himself to keep his thoughts off the girl and her soft blue eyes.

When the recital ended, the guests drifted off to various entertainments. Those who sought to dine found the supper tables groaning under the weight of the abundant cold meats, salted fish, and succulent sweets on display. Card tables were set up in the card room, and the Winthrops had engaged an orchestra that appeared to be ready to open with a waltz in the ballroom. Julian thought of his promise to Rose about her first waltz, a promise he desired to keep, but he dared not claim it here.

He glanced around and saw that Rose and Nicola were now seated among the wallflowers, chattering between themselves and making it clear to all the young bucks in attendance that neither girl was interested in dancing. He understood Rose’s hesitation, for she had not quite recovered from her sprained ankle, but Nicola had no such impediment. Why wasn’t his blasted headstrong sister making herself available for a dance?

“You seem far away, Chatham,” Valentina said, attempting to follow his gaze. Fortunately, the ballroom was packed and she wasn’t tall enough to make out what had distracted him across the room.

“No, my love. Right here. Just making certain Braswell isn’t eyeing my sister.” That rankled Valentina. Braswell was her toady for the moment and she wasn’t about to share him with anyone. “Ah, no. I see he’s moved past her and is gulping down a cup of ratafia. No doubt he’s spiked it. The drink is vile. Not even I can stomach it plain.”

He took Valentina into his arms as her frown eased, and he danced the waltz and then a quadrille with her. He gave silent thanks when Lord Braswell approached Valentina to claim the two sets he’d marked on her dance card.

With Valentina occupied for another hour at a minimum, Julian took the opportunity to approach his sister and Rose. They saw him coming and scampered outside, Rose moving with surprising grace as they both hurried down the terrace steps to the privacy of the garden. Were they purposely trying to avoid him?

Bloody nuisance.

He followed after them, telling himself that it was only to protect the girls from the unscrupulous bachelors lying in wait for the first young innocent of ample fortune to walk down the darkened path and fall into one of their traps.

Wasn’t he honor bound to protect them? After all, Nicola was his sister and Rose was his sort of responsibility ever since he’d pulled her out from her sabotaged pottery shed. In any event, he’d promised her mother that he’d look after her. It mattered little that they were talking about the upcoming trip to Darnley Cottage and not this musicale.

A promise is a promise and I mean to keep it.

If Valentina noticed, he’d simply tell her the truth. She’d believe that he’d been chasing after his sister to keep the irritating sibling out of harm’s way. No need to make mention of Rose. Indeed, the less said about her, the better.

He strode down a darkened bend and almost barreled over the two girls, catching them up in his arms in time to prevent them from falling into a heap at his feet. “Nicola, why aren’t you on the dance floor?” He steadied both girls and then released them, nodding toward the crowded ballroom. His body still tingled in the spots where Rose had fallen against him, and his hand still shook from the ache of wanting to touch of her soft, warm body again.

“No one asked me.” Nicola shot back a glower, obviously not in the least distressed to be considered a wallflower.

He frowned. Any dutiful brother would be concerned to find his younger sister ignored by the reputable young bucks on the hunt for a suitable wife. “Let me see your card.”

“No.” She tucked it into her bosom.

Julian rolled his eyes. “And you, Rose? Has no one approached you either?”

Hoping he didn’t ask to see her dance card and discover his likeness on it, she glanced down at her ankle as though to point out the obvious. “I can’t possibly accept anyone until you claim the first dance. Do you recall your—”

He groaned inwardly. “Yes.”

But Valentina would run him through with her sharpest blade if he dared to dance with another young lady. He’d been foolish to suggest it and would now have to disappoint Rose. Either that or claim that first dance in the privacy of this isolated moonlit garden. He’d still have to wait for Valentina and her cohorts to be reliably distracted before he’d ever dare attempt it.

Lord, he was mad to even consider such a thing.

A year’s work tossed away for a pair of beautiful blue eyes. “Rose, you’ll get your first dance once we’re out in the country.” He turned away from her before she could accept or issue protest.

Now in ill humor, he trained his annoyance on his sister. “Nicola, I had better see you dance at least once this evening with a proper suitor or I’m going to take it upon myself to find you a husband. So, unless you wish to be forced into a marriage with someone of my choosing by the end of this season, you had better get out there and find yourself a duke or earl or some other pimple-arsed nitwit who’ll find you tolerable.”

She scowled. “You’re bluffing. You’d never saddle me with an unwanted match.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Wouldn’t I?”

As Nicola folded her arms to mimic his pose, Rose attempted to intercede. “She finds your friend the Duke of Edgeware interesting. Perhaps you might encourage—”

“Stop protecting my sister, Rose.” He shook his head and sighed. “Everyone knows the duke has no intention of ever marrying. You’ve craftily mentioned the only bachelor in London who will never be conquered. It won’t buy Nicola a reprieve. I know she has no interest in him.”

“You do?” Rose tipped her head in confusion. “How can you possibly be so certain?”

“Nicola is terrible at hiding her thoughts. So are you, by the way.” A slow grin stretched across his face. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Crumpets!” she muttered, her eyes rounding in alarm. “If you’re so clever, then tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

“Easy.” He arched a devilish eyebrow. “You’re wondering whether I’m bluffing about Nicola. I’m not. And wondering whether I’m on to the scheme you and she have contrived and were most busily whispering about in your own little corner of the Winthrop ballroom. I am.” She gasped and her eyes once more rounded in alarm.
Bloody nuisance.
His guess had been squarely on the mark. They were indeed still scheming, but about what?

As the girl recovered from her surprise, she met his gaze in challenge. “An obvious guess. If you’re truly that perceptive, then what am I thinking about now?”

His grin broadened and turned rakish. “You’re wondering whether I would truly kiss you if you asked me.”

She inhaled lightly. “Nicola, let’s go inside. The gnats are rather a nuisance this evening and so is your brother.”

Julian watched Rose skitter back into the townhouse with his sister following closely at her heels. Only once she was out of sight did he release the breath he’d been holding. “Bloody nuisance,” he muttered again, desperately wishing she wasn’t quite so beautiful.

“Indeed,” the Duke of Edgeware said, stepping out of the shadows. “Chatham, should I be heartbroken that your sister doesn’t desire me?”

“Oh, bollocks. Ian, I didn’t know you were out here.” He’d been working with Ian Markham, Duke of Edgeware, another agent for the Crown, for many years and had long since stopped calling his friend “your grace” or Edgeware.

“I often sneak away,” Ian said with a nod, “sometimes for an assignation, but mostly to avoid those aggressive, marriage-minded mamas and their drippy-nosed daughters. I’d never slip away with a good sort like your sister, so you needn’t worry about her.”

“They’re not all horrid. Some of these young ladies are quite tolerable.”

Ian nodded toward the townhouse. “Like Rose Farthingale? I’ve heard about those Farthingale girls. Supposedly they’re all beautiful, even the youngest ones. Lady Dayne is already dropping hints that one of them might suit me.” He shook his head and gave a mock shudder. “I’m depraved in many ways, but I never rob from the cradle.”

Julian threw his head back and laughed. “They’re unusual and far more interesting than your ordinary assortment of English flowers. You ought not rule them out.”

Ian cast him one of those dismissive looks that seem to come naturally to all dukes. “Only trysts and tawdry liaisons for me, old man,” he said, even though Julian didn’t know anyone else as brave and hard working as Ian. The duke lowered his voice to a whisper. “I return to France within the week. It’s my turn to follow Napoleon’s messenger and see where else the man will lead me. Perhaps I’ll return to find you married. I pray that it won’t be to that black widow spider, Valentina. Not even the salvation of England would be reason enough for me to make that sacrifice.”

Julian sighed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ve made a solemn promise to Prinny and intend to hold to it. So I really need to discover the name of the traitor inside the royal inner circle before the month is out or I’ll be forced to take that next step and offer for said black widow spider. I won’t go through with the wedding, but she needs to think I will. She needs to trust me implicitly.”

“Good luck.” Ian glanced toward the terrace, where ladies and gentlemen were beginning to crowd since the ballroom had no doubt grown too warm. “I had better go back inside. You ought to do the same before your spider comes hunting for you.”

“Damn. I know.”

Ian patted him on the back. “I’ll keep an eye on your sister and claim a dance if she truly intends to declare herself a wallflower. After one dance with me, the other young bucks will be clamoring for a turn.”

“I’d be grateful for it.” He cleared his throat. “But just one dance.”

Ian held up his hands in mock surrender again, but his expression was somber. “You needn’t worry. One is all I’ll claim. Nicola’s a decent sort and one of the few debutantes who actually intend to marry for love. I admire that. Don’t be too hard on her. She knows what she wants, and it isn’t her fault there are so few worthy specimens to be found.”

Julian snorted. “When did you grow to be so clever?”

“I’ve always been brilliant,” he replied with a grin. “I’m shocked you haven’t noticed it sooner.”

They walked inside as the set was ending and the men were escorting their partners off the dance floor. Julian crossed the crowded room toward Valentina and Braswell to lay claim on her and act the part of jealous suitor. “I believe the next dance is mine, my love.” He cast Braswell a glower. “You may take yourself off now, old boy. You’ve had all the turn you’re going to have this evening.”