Page 4 of The Earl’s Gamble (The Lovers’ Arch: Later in Life)

4

Griff

“ D o you trust me?” Griff asked the next morning, escorting Rose down the corridor under the crisp light of a new dawn. He’d arranged for them to breakfast in the same room they’d dined in last night, but he’d been surprised how much he’d looked forward to it—to seeing her .

Griff wasn’t sure where Mrs Mercer had found the gown Rose wore, but he liked it a great deal more on her than the sad, frayed dress she wore last night. The dress wasn’t the only change; the dirt in Rose’s mousy hair had been washed away to reveal a vibrant blonde, fragrant with notes of the familiar vanilla-and-orange soaps the family bought from Penhaligon's perfume house.

He thought she was pretty before, but now he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She smiled, before a small crease appeared in her brow. “Although the way you framed that question does worry me a little.”

He stopped halfway down the corridor, right in front of a closed door. He opened it to reveal a lattice comprised of metal—a scissor gate.

“ Oh ,” Rose breathed, sudden excitement lighting her eyes. “You have a lift in your house? ”

Her excitement was infectious, curving his lips into a grin. “It was installed in the house sometime in the middle of the last century to transport hot water upstairs for the family’s baths. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t sure if it was still functional, but my valet informed me this morning it was.”

“Why do you keep it behind a door?”

“My mother has a small dog. She worries he would sneak through the gaps in the lattice and meet an untimely end,” he explained. “Shall we?”

Rose nodded, her eyes flying around to all corners of the lift. “What’s that circular gold…thing? The one with the handle sticking out of it.”

Griff pulled the door closed behind them. “That’s the crank. You turn it clockwise to go down and anti-clockwise to go up. Do you want to try?”

She opened her mouth, but eventually shook her head. “Can I watch you do it first?”

He obliged, gently pushing the crank away from him. The lift began to descend immediately, a low hum filling the air around them.

“Oh, goodness,” Rose whispered, latching onto him as the ground moved beneath her. Her eyes were wide, but there was no fear there—only wonder.

Griff slid his right arm around her, pulling the crank back up with his left. The lift jolted to a halt, but he securely held her in place. “What do you think?”

“Are…are we on the ground floor?”

“We are. This goes all the way down to the servants’ quarters and all the way up to the third floor. Five stops, in all.” Instead of opening the scissor gate, he offered her control of the crank. “Would you like to take charge?”

Excitement licked up her spine. “Can I? ”

“Of course. It’s quite easy.” He swapped places with her, trying to squash his body’s awareness of hers. “Remember, clockwise to go down and counter-clockwise to go up.”

Rose laid her hands on the thick crank, curling her fingers around the metal in a way he definitely wasn’t going to be thinking of later in the bath. “Like this?” she asked, gingerly pulling it towards her.

The lift moved once more, retreading their steps up to the bedroom corridor. “As we approach the first floor, you’ll want to move it back up to the central position. It does take a bit of practice to stop in the corre—”

Instead of a slow, steady movement, Rose lifted the crank to the central position the moment the first floor came into view through the scissor gate. The lift lurched to a stop so suddenly Griff felt his feet leave the floor.

Rose let out a surprised yelp, scrabbling for purchase. Her cane fell from her grip, and a vision of her falling down onto either her weak leg or injured hands struck him in mid-air.

He acted in an instant, catching her a moment before they hit the floor. The extra weight threw him off balance, and he stumbled backwards against the side of the lift with a deafening clang , slowly sliding down the metal onto the floor in a heap.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her, eyes widened with panic, and his heart thumping an indent into his rib cage.

Her shocked gaze landed on his, and for one terrifying moment he was convinced she’d been mortally injured, but then—

“I didn’t mean to—oh my giddy aunt. That was better than going on a helter-skelter ride!” She laughed, covering her mouth with her bandaged hands.

A chorus of contagious giggles burbled out of her, melting away his worry and replacing it with the deep rumble of his own laughter. “I wouldn’t have taken you as a daredevil. ”

With a pink-cheeked smirk and eyes full of mischief, she shrugged. “It was rather fun, was it not?”

Griff shook his head, unable to tear his focus away from her. “You really are a little firecracker.”

Most young ladies would— quite rightly— be in need of a lie down after a fright like that, but Rose looked as though she could happily go another round with the crank.

The curve of her eyebrow kicked up briefly. The edges of her lips were still curved with amusement. “Am I?”

He tucked a wayward strand of her golden hair back into place, letting his hand play about her jaw. Her skin was so very, very soft, chaining his attention in place.

When they were standing, Griff could separate the two of them. He was a respectable earl. She was the sister of his soldier-servant, fallen on hard times.

After they’d been tossed to the floor in a jumble of limbs and laughter, there was no denying they were anything but a man and a woman. There was no denying their attraction.

“Rose,” he whispered, his large hand flexing over her cheek.

Just as he leant in; however, a distant yap rang throughout the house.

Griff let his head hang with a small groan.

“Was that a dog?” Rose asked.

He nodded, skimming his tongue over the inside of his bottom lip. “That was Flutter, my mother’s dog. And if Flutter’s home…”

“Your mother is home,” she finished for him, a crease of worry burrowing between her eyebrows. “Is she, um, is she nice?”

“She’s lovely,” he assured her, seeking to soothe the concern on her face. Especially if you’re a titled young woman looking for marriage. Realising that the two of them were still seated on the lift’s floor, he climbed to his feet and pulled Rose to hers, returning her cane to her hand. “Come. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

Griff sent the lift back down to the ground floor, giving her an encouraging smile before he opened the door out into the empty entrance hall. Hearing the pitter-patter of tiny canine feet, he escorted Rose into the music room.

Mama sat on the plush, chocolate-and-cream settee, a cup of tea in her hand and a plate of biscuits on a tray next to her. “Now sit. Sit, Flutter. Sit. There we go.”

Flutter’s two front feet tapped on the thick Aubusson rug as he accepted the biscuit. His tiny tail whipped from side to side as he spotted Griff, darting across the room to greet him.

“Oh!” Mama sighted him a moment later, almost spilling her tea as she stood. “Griff, darling. You didn’t tell me you had a guest.”

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured to Flutter, scooping him into his arms. The silky strands of his feathered ears moved with her in waves. “Mama, may I introduce you to Rose Finch, the sister of Archie. Rose, this is my mother, Clarissa, the Countess of Harpenden. And Flutter, the Papillon.”

Sucking in a breath, Mama kissed Rose on the cheek in welcome. “Archie’s sister, you say?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Call me Clarissa, please.” Mama took Rose’s hand, leading her to the settee. “I was so very sorry to hear of Archie’s death, my dear.”

He didn’t miss the movement in Rose’s throat before she answered. “Thank you.”

“He was ever such a lovely young man.” Mama nodded, as though Archie hadn’t been nearing his forties. “A lovely brother too, I’d wager. ”

“The very best.” Rose briefly caught his eye, a sad smile curving her lips. “It was just the two of us, so we were very close.”

Mama pushed the tea tray over towards them. A sterling silver teapot sat at its centre, engraved with swirling scrollwork. Steam poured from its spout, vanishing into the air. “Pour some tea for yourself and Miss Finch here, darling. Before it gets cold.” She turned back to Rose as Griff dutifully obeyed, slipping Flutter a biscuit as he did. “I didn’t realise he was your only sibling. His passing must have been very hard on you and your parents.”

Taking the teacup, Rose bit her lip briefly. “He was, uh, he was the only family I had left, actually.”

The lines on Mama’s brow deepened in sympathy. “Then I am all the more sorry for his loss.” She took a sip from her cup. “Do you live locally?”

Rose stilled, perhaps fearing judgement. “Spitalfields.”

Mama nodded conversationally. “Isn’t that where Walker is from, Griff?”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure where in Spitalfields Walker was from, but he knew Rose and Archie had grown up in a lodging house on Dorset Street. A location infamous for its connection to Jack the Ripper, if the association with rookeries and abject poverty wasn’t enough to put one off. “It is.”

Most of the tales Archie told of his home life had been happy ones. Griff had told his in turn. They’d needed that, at the front. Their reality had been so dire that any recollections of home were treasured.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he murmured. “I’m just going into my office to fetch something.”

He was scarcely out of his seat before Flutter invaded to take it as his own. Quick steps brought him to his office, an oddly feminine room filled with oil paintings of the pets his mother and father had had over the years. The artist’s mark in the corner of each of them was familiar—his father’s .

A long oak sideboard stood opposite the desk, covered in a myriad of photos in sturdy silver frames. Old cartes de visite of his grandmother or albumen prints of his parents’ wedding and his christening. He’d added a few of his own during his grand tour on the continent, but the most recent additions were photographs he’d taken during the war.

Fishing the leatherbound photograph album out of the middle draw, he beat a hasty retreat back into the music room. Rose’s voice filled the space, telling a childhood tale of her and Archie, by the sounds of it.

Griff took a seat on Rose’s other side, having lost his preferred one to Flutter. “I thought you might be interested in seeing some of these.”

“Oh?”

“But if they upset you, you must tell me.” His gaze flicked to his mother, who knew very well what the album contained. “You have all the time in the world to look at them.”

Rose’s answer was a nervous one. “All right.”

He passed it over to her, slowly opening the cover to reveal the first photograph he’d taken during the war. Right after Archie was assigned to be Griff’s soldier-servant.

A gasp came when Rose recognised Archie and Griff sitting beside a canal, a collection of ducks swarming them to beg for food—which they received, if he remembered correctly. “Oh my goodness.” Rose swallowed, touching her fingers to her lips. “I didn’t know you had a photograph of him.”

“I have many,” he murmured gently. “This one was taken in Mons. Archie and I only met each other a day or two before this. Neither of us knew what we were doing. In the first week, he managed to lose my field glasses and cut me with a straight razor so badly I needed stitches.”

Rose’s lips parted in shock. “ He didn’t!”

“He did.” Griff laughed, lifting his chin and pointing to the pale line under his jaw. “It’s this one. Mama thought it was a wound earned in battle when she first saw the scar.”

Mama chuckled into her tea. “I did.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t sack him.”

“We’d already fought together by that point. He was good under pressure, Archie. I’d seen his mettle.” Griff shrugged. “But I did start shaving myself.”

As Rose began to flip through the album, he chimed in on photographs containing Archie, telling her where they were taken and what they were doing. The album mapped his journey through the war, from start to finish. Mons and Marne and Bellewaarde. The amusement of the chicken run billet, shortly followed by the devastation of the Somme.

“There,” he said suddenly, jumping in when he recognised a shelf with a telltale bottle on it. In the photo, two men sat on opposite sides of a table on mismatched chairs, a chessboard between them. “This is the estaminet I mentioned. Do you see that bottle on the shelf above them?”

She sucked in an excited breath. “Is that the bottle of cognac?”

He nodded. “And that’s the chess game Archie won it in.”

Rose’s wide smile was heart-quakingly beautiful. “I didn’t even know he could play chess.”

“He couldn’t when we met. But I brought a travelling chess set with me to the front, so I taught him the ropes and before long, the blackguard was thrashing me at my own game. Awfully disrespectful.” Griff grinned down at the photo, remembering the damp smell of the estaminet even now. “He was a terrible soldier-servant, but I shall never meet a finer man.”

Rose smiled, an emotional sheen covering her eyes.

She made to pass the album back over to him, but he stopped her. “I’d like you to keep this. ”

“I couldn’t!” she protested. “It’s yours, not mi—”

“I have the negatives. I can make more copies of these photographs anytime I like, but I think Archie would have wanted you to have the album. He’s in most of the photographs, whether he’s front and centre or hiding in the background somewhere. It’s not just my time at war that’s documented here—it’s his too.”

She swept a bandaged hand across the leather cover, deep in thought. Finally, she nodded, her proud eyes meeting his. “Thank you, Griff.”

He could get lost in those eyes. Instinct pushed him to lower his gaze to her lips, but his mother’s presence pulled it away.

Movement over Mama’s shoulder caught his attention. Walker entered, his white hair separated in a razor sharp parting. He crossed over to them like a man on a mission, holding a silver platter aloft. “A letter arrived for you in the morning post, my lord.”

“Thank you, Walker.” Griff accepted it, using the letter opener to make a quick slit in the envelope.

As he read the letter, his heart sank.

“Bad news?” Rose’s voice was full of concern.

“Not…not quite.” He swallowed, glancing up at Mama. “Lady Jilly says she will be delighted to join us for my birthday dinner.”

“Oh.” Mama blinked, a smile curving her face. “Well, that’s wonderful. It’ll be lovely to see her again.”

Rose smoothed a hand over Flutter as he curled up next to her. “Is Lady Jilly a relative?”

Griff took a deep breath in. A week ago, he’d extended the invite to Lady Jilly. She met all of his requirements: an established woman who knew her own mind rather than a simpering miss young enough to be his daughter. Mama had been on at him about it long enough .

In the end, he decided to cross the Rubicon. He wasn’t getting any younger, and Mama was right. The earldom needed him to father an heir.

The god of chaos must be laughing at him, truly. Because no sooner had he resigned himself to his fate did he meet Rose. A woman who ignited some savage magnetism lurking deep within his soul. A woman whose touch made his blood sing. A woman who called to every fantasy he’d kept hidden from the outside world.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. Almost apologetically. “Lady Jilly is the woman my mother wants me to marry.”