Page 79

R ose slept late. By the time she opened her eyes, her narrow bedchamber was patterned with a harsh yellow light which made her wince. She lowered her bare feet to the floor, wondering at the slight soreness of her body.

When the memories came flooding back, she put the back of her hand to her mouth and bade herself be silent.

Much as she wanted to sob or wail, she must not.

No one could ever find out what had passed between herself and Sebastian on the sands last night.

It was a gift she had given to herself. One she would never have taken if she were not bewitched by beauty, desire, and an unquenchable recklessness which had seen her throw caution to the waves.

Just one time, she had thought. Why should she deny herself such pleasure?

How could she have known that this gift was not some glitzy treasure to be marveled at then put away? That taking this step would change who she was and how she felt, forever?

Rose let her shoulders slump forward as she took a deep, ravaging breath.

What was done was done. She could not take it back.

Would not take it back. The memories of Sebastian pressed against her, inside her , his lips on hers, the two of them melded together as one, were more precious than anything.

She loved him. She had always suspected it. Now she knew beyond any doubt. And because she loved him, she would leave Ember Hall as planned this morning.

Sebastian had made it very clear that he did not wish to marry. Rose would not be the woman who finally succeeded at entrapping him.

Rose waited until she had fully recovered her composure, then she donned a serviceable day dress and tidied her hair.

In the life she had chosen, she would have to do without the services of a maid to help her dress.

Satisfied that she was at least presentable, she passed out of her chamber and walked hesitantly through the long gallery toward the staircase.

At every corner, she held her breath in case Sebastian might appear.

If he did, she told herself, she would greet him normally.

Nothing must appear to have changed. But she met no one at all.

Indeed, the house seemed strangely silent, as if it were holding its breath alongside her.

The wooden stairs were dappled with golden light, the banister warm and smooth beneath her hand. The rumble of male voices rose up as she came onto the half landing, but they were too quiet to make out. She emerged into the drawing room and froze.

Elin was standing by the mantlepiece, her pretty face creased with anxiety.

“Good morning, Rose.” Her voice was strained. “As you can see, we have visitors.”

Rose forced herself to stand tall rather than turning and fleeing. Her stepfather sat in the cushioned chair to one side of Elin, his portly belly spilling over his white breeches. She did not need to scan the room to know that the Earl of Folton was also here.

She knew his presence by the prickling of hairs on the back of her neck.

Also, by the cloying scent of his favorite cologne.

It was a fragrance she had long associated with feelings of claustrophobia.

One whiff was enough to make her feel trapped, in both a dance and a life that she had no wish to participate in.

She should curtsy and extend a greeting to the titled gentlemen. But she found she could do neither.

Her stepfather, Lord Rusherton, cleared his throat.

“Rose, you have put us to great inconvenience. But no matter. Nothing has been done that cannot be undone. We shall return to London forthwith. Your betrothal to the Earl of Folton has already been announced. Your mother is making the arrangements for the wedding as we speak.”

Rose’s mouth was too dry for her to respond. She put a hand to her throat and looked at Elin for support.

Elin only gave a slight shake of her head. “There is surely no call for such urgency. You should all partake of refreshments before you embark on such a long journey.”

Rose’s stepfather looked poised to refuse, but the Earl of Folton was not a man to deny himself refreshment. “Very good, very good.” He waved a flabby hand. “I find myself rather peckish.”

Elin rang on the bell pull and folded her hands, her eyes darting nervously around the room. “I cannot think what is keeping my brother.”

Lord Rusherton harrumphed, his jowls bristling with animosity. “I did not believe your brother to be beholden to the rules of polite society.” He looked pointedly at Rose. “Indeed, if the news that has reached us is true, your brother owes the earl an explanation, if not an apology.”

Rose knew a wave of nausea, but Elin did not flinch. “My brother, the duke, does not trouble himself with explanations or apologies.” Her eyes flashed with steel. “And my mother always told me to never listen to gossip, Lord Rusherton.”

Her stepfather flushed and Rose finally found the courage to walk further into the room. “Where is Sebastian?” she asked Elin, her voice low as she came to stand by her friend’s side.

“I do not know.” Elin spoke through the corner of her mouth. “I have not seen him at all this morning.”

Rose’s spirits sank deeper. She had been a fool to attempt to escape the life laid out for her.

A bigger fool to clutch at happiness when it floated within her grasp.

Now she would forever suffer the contrast. She forced herself to glance over at the Earl of Folton, who reclined on the chaise lounge, his beady eyes already fixed on the door, waiting no doubt for wine and cake.

Their daring ruse had failed. Much as Sebastian did not trouble himself with the rules of society, neither did the Earl of Folton. He wanted to marry a young, wealthy debutante and would not be dissuaded by tales of a clandestine embrace on a public beach.

Though if he knew that Rose and Sebastian had done so much more than just embrace, surely he would relinquish his claim?

But no sooner did the thought occur to her than Rose rejected it. She would take their secret to her grave, not use it to her own advantage.

She folded her arms about her chest, hoping to hide her trembling and give herself courage.

There was no option now but to return to London.

This had been but an escapade, not the beginnings of a new life, as she had hoped.

She realized now that she could never run away far enough for her stepfather not to follow.

Her fortune beckoned him, like a beacon.

She must do what generations of women had done before her and accept her fate.

But the thought of leaving without first bidding farewell to Sebastian made her weak at the knees.

Was he avoiding her?

Did he fear she was intending to trap him?

Rose’s vision blurred with anxiety and only Elin’s firm hand on her arm kept her from wobbling.

“I believe that is my brother now,” Elin said lightly. “He will be so pleased not to have missed you all.”

Rose closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, Sebastian was framed in the open doorway. His height, strength, and radiant glow of good health formed a stark contrast to the two men in the room. Rose began to breathe more evenly.

Elin lifted her chin. “We have visitors,” she chirped.

“So, I see.” Sebastian unbuttoned his jacket, his movements smooth and unhurried.

“I have come to take my stepdaughter home.” Lord Rusherton lumbered to his feet. “This is not a proper establishment for Lady Rose to reside in, sir.”

Sebastian inclined his head, but did not contradict him. “What does Lady Rose have to say about this?”

His brown eyes met hers and she found she could hardly breathe. Rose opened her mouth and closed it again.

“She has nothing to say, for it is not her place to contradict me.” Lord Rusherton drew himself up to his full height, which came no further than Sebastian’s shoulders. “We will take our leave.”

At that moment, the maid appeared with a heavy silver tray. The Earl of Folton made a dissenting noise, clearly unwilling to depart before he had partaken of his promised refreshment.

Sebastian waited for the maid to pass before striding into the room, coming to stand directly before Rose.

Elin skipped to one side and smiled brightly at the earl. “Shall I pour?”

“What do you say?” Sebastian asked again, his gaze burning into hers. “Do you want to leave? Or do you want to stay?”

Rose’s legs trembled so much she thought she might fall. “I don’t want to leave,” she managed.

“Do you want to stay?” Sebastian’s voice carried an edge of impatience. “With me?”

There was a great clattering noise as Elin scattered teacups. Rose held onto the mantlepiece for support.

“With you?” she echoed stupidly.

“Lady Rose cannot remain in the company of a man such as yourself, sir,” Lord Rusherton began self-importantly.

Sebastian ignored him. “With me,” he confirmed, reaching for Rose’s hands. “As my wife.”

Rose was glad he had hold of her hands for she thought she might swoon. “But you do not wish to marry.”

“I have reconsidered my stance.” He released one of her hands and fished in the pocket of his jacket. “I left at first light to obtain a special license. I have it here.” He revealed a buff envelope. “We can marry right away, if you wish to.”

“But arrangements have already been made.” Lord Rusherton’s voice shook with indignation.

“I find arrangements are exceedingly easy to change.” Sebastian’s voice was mild.

“Especially when smoothed by the coffers of my family estate. Let me make myself clear, Lord Rusherton. I wish to marry your stepdaughter, whether that is with or without her dowry. It makes very little difference to me.”

“But to have a duchess as a stepdaughter would make all the difference to some people,” Elin interrupted dreamily, as if she were talking to herself. “Such a connection would open many doors.”

Lord Rusherton fell to blessed silence. Sebastian cupped a hand around Rose’s cheek.

“What do you say, my love?”

“Oh Sebastian.” Rose’s eyes swam with happy tears. “If you’re sure?”

“Good heavens, woman, of course he’s sure. My brother never does anything he doesn’t want to. The question is, do you want to marry him ?” Elin swung the teapot in the air to emphasize her impatience.

“I do.” Rose nodded firmly. Her thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, but this she was sure of.

In the periphery of her vision, she was dimly aware of her stepfather flapping his hands whilst the Earl of Folton slopped his tea onto the patterned carpet, but all Rose really cared about was Sebastian, standing before her.

His arms circled her waist and then she didn’t think about anything else, for Sebastian was kissing her in full view of the drawing room.

It was not a chaste kiss. It was long and passionate and left her clinging to him.

“I love you,” he said when he finally pulled away.

“And I love you.” She hooked her hands over his broad shoulders. “I always have.”

“My wild Rose.” Happiness radiated from him. “You have rescued me.”

She dimpled up at him. “Some would say that you are the one to rescue me. That is the traditional way of things.”

“Tradition be damned.” He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Let us rescue one another. And continue to do so for the rest of our days.”

And so, they did.

The End