Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty

Some things are just meant to do in private.

—The Duke of Lancaster

The trip back to Rose’s house was taking quite a bit longer than Simon had expected.

Apparently, after the excitement of seeing a somewhat respected—though generally disliked—earl being wrestled to the ground, the ton decided that not even the chance to rub elbows with Prince George could compete with the aforementioned spectacle and it was therefore time to retire for the night. As a result, it seemed that every carriage in London was attempting to leave Grosvenor Square at the same time.

With a large and rather contented sigh, Simon slid his arm around Rose and pulled her close, instantly deciding that being alone in a private carriage with the woman he loved was absolutely not the worst place he could be— quite the opposite, in fact.

…

Rose echoed Simon’s sigh with one of her own. She was utterly exhausted, but could imagine no place else she would rather be at that very moment than safe in Simon’s arms. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to God for their success in thwarting Caleb’s attempt on William’s life. She didn’t know if she would have been able to live with herself if they had not been able to stop him and, as a result, would have had to watch one of her best friends lose the love of her life.

“Now Hannah and William can get married without a care in the world except each other,” Rose said aloud.

Simon snorted. “From what William told me the other day, I gather the wedding is more than stressful enough.”

Rose nodded. “That is the impression I have received from Hannah, as well.”

The two sat in companionable silence for a minute before Rose added wistfully, “What I wouldn’t give to avoid a big elaborate wedding.”

Simon straightened slightly. “But, just to be clear, you do want to get married, right?”

With a teasing little smile, Rose replied, “Is that your idea of a proposal, sir?”

When Simon didn’t respond immediately with an equally teasing rejoinder, Rose looked up at him curiously. She was surprised to see that he suddenly looked very serious and it was obvious that he was thinking awfully hard about something.

Rose immediately began to regret her joke.

She had been so careful not to pressure him into anything for which he wasn’t ready. More than anything, Rose wanted Simon to come to the decision to marry her more or less on his own—which even she could admit was somewhat silly considering they were already betrothed—but it was the principle of the matter.

“Simon, I didn’t mean—” Rose started.

“Hush,” Simon said gruffly, reaching into his jacket pocket. “There has been something I have been meaning to ask you lately…”

Rose watched as Simon turned away from her for a moment and began fumbling with something. Holding her breath, she impatiently waited for Simon to finish his thought. Somewhere deep inside, she knew whatever he was going to say would change her life forever.

Then, finally, he turned around and, looking deep into her eyes, Simon held up a truly exquisite diamond ring and said, “Rose Warren, my love, will you—”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!” Rose squealed.

…

Although inside Simon was fairly giddy with excitement at Rose’s enthusiastic response, he felt he couldn’t just let her interruption go without comment. “What if I was going to ask you to hold onto this ring for me until I was ready to make it official?” he said, raising an eyebrow archly.

Rose opened and closed her mouth a few times—looking rather like a fish out of water, in Simon’s opinion—before finally whispering, “But that wasn’t what you were going to ask me, was it?”

The beseeching look in her eyes was more than Simon could bear, so he dropped the charade. He took Rose’s left hand in his and whispered, “Only if you agree to ‘hold’ the ring on this finger right here…” And with that he slipped the sparkling jewel onto her ring finger, which he followed with a tender kiss on the knuckles.

Rose watched his movements with a sort of awed intensity and when the ring was finally in place she looked up at him from behind her spectacles with the biggest, most luminescent eyes. “Does this mean our engagement is official now?”

Simon chuckled. “Yes, love, it is very, very official.”

“Oh good.” Rose smiled, looking back down at her hand, then lifting it up to watch how the round cut diamond twinkled and glittered in the dim light.

“You do realize that this means there is now a wedding in your future—your very near future,” Simon remarked.

“Yes,” Rose said with a sigh. “I suppose I can endure it if it means I will be married to you.”

Laughing, Simon leaned in for a quick kiss. “I am certainly glad to hear that, sweetling.”

With a wry grin, Rose said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t particularly relish the idea of being the center of all that attention, especially when most everyone will be thinking that you are only marrying me because you had no choice.” Rose paused for a moment and then she looked at Simon. “That is not the only reason you are marrying me, is it?”

Simon’s first impulse was to give Rose a teasing reply, because certainly she must know that was positively not why he was marrying her…but somewhere in the depths of her eyes Simon could see there was still a niggling doubt, so he quite honestly said, “If someone had asked me even a month ago, I would have said that was the reason I would have eventually married you, but things are different now. I love you, Rose, and I want to marry you—soon—marriage contract or not.”

Nodding, Rose replied quietly, “I knew that, I did. But I just had to make sure for my own peace of mind, if nothing else.”

“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, Rose. Those who know and love us will know the truth. How could they not? I plan to shout it from the rooftops later today, in fact.”

“Oh, hush,” Rose said, giving Simon a little shove. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. Besides, it is more than just that…it is all the hustle and bustle and planning. My mother will love all the shopping, of course—flowers, dresses, decorations—but it will be me who has to arrange it all. I love my mother, but she simply has no head for organization.”

Simon could tell that Rose was getting all worked up just thinking about it. It didn’t seem fair.

He smiled as a plan began to form in his mind. Rose’s wedding day should be the happiest day of her life—of their lives. Somehow he had to come up with a way to get himself good and married to Rose, without putting her through all the rigmarole of a wedding.

There were some details to work out and some people to speak to, but he felt sure he was on the right track. In the meantime, perhaps a little distraction would go a long way toward taking her mind off of the affair, at least for the rest of the carriage ride home. Taking her once again in his arms, Simon said soothingly, “Don’t worry about it now, love. We’ll figure something out.”

Simon captured Rose’s lips in a warm sumptuous kiss. Groaning deeply, he was extremely gratified when she very willingly parted her lips to allow his tongue to dip in for a much needed taste of her honeyed mouth. Lord, but she tasted sweet. Does she suck on sugar drops every second of the day? he wondered absently, angling his head for even better access.

Rose responded with a low moan and she melted against him, to which he gladly gave in by reclining back until Rose was lying partially atop him on the narrow seat of the carriage.

It was clear Rose had no idea what she was doing, but it was also abundantly obvious to Simon that she had amazing instincts and he was going to love being married to her…especially at night—or during the day, all over the house, in private little groves outdoors—the possibilities were endless.

With a gruff growl, Simon reversed their positions so that now Rose was lying flat on her back. It is time to torture her a bit now, he thought wickedly, as he broke off their kiss and began blazing a trail of kisses down Rose’s neck and across her chest until he was stopped by the ruffled edge of her bodice.

Hovering there, Simon reached up a hand and tugged ever so slightly on the fabric covering Rose’s fabulous breasts. When one tug didn’t achieve the results he was looking for, Simon became a bit more insistent and within seconds his efforts were rewarded when one full creamy breast popped out above the silky fabric.

Simon closed his eyes in sheer bliss as he took her nipple into his mouth.

…

Rose practically jumped out of her skin when she felt the exquisiteness of Simon’s tongue swirling around her sensitive tip. Writhing uncontrollably, she threaded her fingers behind Simon’s head and pulled him closer. The very core being of her was begging wildly for him and she thought she would simply expire if he didn’t enter her soon.

“Simon,” she begged. “I need…I need…ohhh…”

Unable to complete a coherent thought when Simon was doing such amazing things to her, Rose could only hope that Simon would understand her, er, needs without further elaboration.

She was not disappointed.

Simon lavished her breasts and neck and ear with hot heavy kisses and then moved his hand down beneath Rose’s skirts and began to work his way ever so surely up her legs until he reached that throbbing region to which Rose so wanted him to give attention.

“Oh, Rose,” Simon breathed against her lips, “you are so wet. I hadn’t planned to take you here in the carriage like this, but I don’t think I can stop.”

“Good Lord, Simon…don’t stop,” Rose gasped, pressing herself farther into his freely exploring hand.

“But Rose,” Simon insisted, “you may still be sore from the other night.”

Rose took Simon’s face in her hands and looked directly into his eyes. “I…don’t…care,” she ground out.

Simon apparently needed no more urging than that. He quickly undid his breeches and within seconds he was sliding inside of her. Rose let out a groan of complete relief. It felt so very right to be together.

Simon began moving slowly—clearly still concerned about Rose’s soreness—but Rose was not in the least bit hampered by any residual effects of their previous lovemaking and soon she and Simon were moving together rapidly, compulsively, single-mindedly; and when Rose cried out in ultimate passion, Simon followed only a second later with his own joyful release.

Falling back in utter exhaustion, Rose had to smile. This was by far the best carriage ride she had ever had.

After a few moments, Simon shifted his weight so that he wasn’t directly on top of Rose and he looked down at her with a happy grin. Rose gazed back at him, feeling very content.

“Hi,” she whispered softly, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair off of his forehead.

“Hello, love,” Simon whispered back, capturing her hand to press a warm kiss into its palm.

“I had no idea that this,” Rose motioned to their decadent situation with her hands, “could be done in a carriage.”

“Oh, my dear, you would be amazed by all the places this can be done,” Simon replied and then he added devilishly, “Or perhaps I should say, you will be amazed by all the places this can be done.”

…

Rose was floating on a cloud of happiness when she finally entered her house. At last, she and Simon were officially engaged. By choice this time. Rather remarkable, that. And knowing that she was very likely going to run into certain members of her household staff looking good and well tupped didn’t bother her in the slightest.

She was happy. For the first time in her life, she was exactly who—and with whom—she wanted to be—and nothing else mattered.

Chapter Twenty-one

Every man has his price.

—The Duke of Lancaster

The next day, Rose and Simon were summoned by Lady Lancaster to meet her and Dr. Orfila at the rotation offices on Bow Street where the officers had taken Caleb the previous evening for holding. Rose was surprised by the summons, for surely it meant that Dr. Orfila had completed his tests already. She wished she could have been able to watch him work. She was quite certain that his techniques were fascinating…to her at least.

But right now, even more interesting was watching the magistrate conduct his inquiries as to the evidence against Caleb. Rose knew from her studies that all they had to do was convince the magistrate that there was indeed a valid case for trial. He was not supposed to seek confessions or do anything other than hear both sides of the story prior to making his assessment. If he agreed there was probable cause for a trial then he would commit the accused to prison to await his day in court.

“Now then,” began the magistrate, Charles Scofield, “could you please tell me exactly what this gentleman is supposed to have done to warrant an arrest?”

“There is no supposing in this matter, my good man,” the dowager said in a tone that defied argument. “This man, Caleb Collicott, murdered his brother, the late Earl of Shrewsbury…and he attempted to murder another gentleman, the Earl of Pembroke.”

“That is quite an accusation, my lady, and not something I imagine you would make lightly, but in the interest of complete fairness, do you have any…er…proof?”

The look Lady Lancaster gave the small rotund man was cold enough to freeze the Thames—again—but nevertheless she replied, “Of course there is proof. This man has twice now utilized a ‘poison ring’ to transport and deposit a deadly toxin into his victims’ drinks. We not only have the tainted ring, but also a sample of the poisoned drink with which he tried to kill Lord Pembroke.”

Rose saw the magistrate’s eyes widen when he heard that. She suspected he was exceedingly happy to have a reason to support Lady Lancaster’s allegations. Supporting the dowager is infinitely preferable to the alternative, Rose thought with a smirk.

Dr. Orfila nodded in confirmation and added, “I have conducted a number of scientific tests and I can conclusively say that both the ring and this liquid contain traces of a very deadly combination of arsenic, copper, and phosphorous. There is no doubt that within hours of ingesting this mixture a person would be dead.” The doctor handed the magistrate a detailed report of his findings, a vial of the champagne, and a small leather purse that presumably held the ring.

Caleb, who had remained silent through the entire proceedings thus far, growled slightly and said, “Even if there is poison in and on those items, you still cannot prove that I am the one who did the poisoning.”

Magistrate Scofield looked at Lady Lancaster with a raised eyebrow, but this time it was Simon who answered. “But we can,” he insisted. “Not only did I remove that very ring from your finger just after you poisoned Lord Pembroke’s drink—in front of witnesses, I might add—my fiancée retrieved the poisoned drink directly from Lord Pembroke’s hand. She also clearly recalls you wearing the same ring at the dinner party Frederick attended last year during which he fell ill and later died.”

With hatred and anger burning brightly in his eyes, Caleb said, “The word of a mere female—one just barely better than the servants cleaning my stables, no less—means nothing to me. Besides, my wearing the supposed ring around Frederick hardly constitutes as evidence that I killed him.”

Rose had to hold Simon back from doing bodily harm to Caleb. It was sweet of him to try and protect her honor, but the insult had not bothered Rose and it certainly wasn’t worth resorting to fisticuffs over. Caleb was grasping at straws at this point. Rose knew it…frankly, everyone in the room probably knew it.

Suddenly a dry, coldly imperious voice sounded from behind everyone. “Perhaps the word of an earl would carry more weight with you, Collicott?”

All heads in the room swung toward the newcomer. William Bredon, the Earl of Pembroke, nodded his greeting to everyone present as he walked forward to stand beside Simon.

Rose looked from William to Simon then back to William in astonishment. What on earth was he doing here? How did he know there was even a here at which to be?

“I apologize for my late arrival, magistrate. I am Lord Pembroke, the person this man tried to kill last night.”

William then turned to Rose and Simon and added in a low voice, “Sarah and Emily filled me in on everything that happened. And Alexander told me about the meeting here this morning.”

Rose breathed a sigh of relief that an earl of William’s stature was there to lend added weight to their testimony.

The magistrate cleared his throat and asked, “And what exactly do you have to say about the matter, my lord?”

“I, too, saw Collicott wearing the ring in question the night Frederick died. In fact, I am willing to swear that he was wearing the ring when he prepared a drink for his brother and afterward he was not.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, Pembroke,” Caleb snapped. “Unless one of you saw me actually administer the poison, then there is nothing to say I did anything to Frederick.”

“We can still prove you tried to kill Lord Pembroke,” Rose countered. “And by the same means you are suspected of killing Frederick. Surely that must indicate something?”

Everyone turned to look at the magistrate, who hurried to respond, “It is suspicious to say the least, but one never knows if a judge or jury will make that leap. However, attempting to murder someone—especially an earl—is crime enough to demand a trial.”

Apparently no one was happy with that statement and everyone began speaking at once. After many seconds of complete chaos, Dr. Orfila’s voice rang out above the din. “There is one way to prove conclusively that Frederick was poisoned—and by the same hand as the man who tried to poison the earl!”

Suddenly there was absolute silence as all eyes turned to the doctor.

Dr. Orfila coughed slightly and adjusted his cravat nervously before continuing, “If we were to exhume Frederick’s body, I could check for traces of the same toxin Mr., er, Lord Colli—ah, Shrewsbury used to poison Lord Pembroke’s drink. If the poisons are of the same unique combination, considering the number of people who witnessed this man wearing the same ring at the ill-fated dinner party, I would think it would be pretty convincing substantiation that he poisoned his brother, too.”

Rose—and indeed pretty much everyone in the room, except one, naturally—turned to the magistrate with an extremely pleased smile. Dr. Orfila was right. While an exhumation hadn’t been possible before, for fear that Caleb would be alerted to their investigation, now was the perfect time.

“You don’t honestly believe I will give you permission to remove my brother from his final resting place, do you?” Caleb snarled.

“Well, actually,” Magistrate Scofield replied, “if the body contains evidence, then we wouldn’t need your permission.”

“The body doesn’t contain any evidence,” Caleb insisted.

“Oh, please,” Rose scoffed, before she could stop herself.

“You stay out of this, you little hussy,” Caleb hissed, reaching for her with his thin grasping claws, “or your precious fiancé will be next…”

The officer jerked Caleb back by his restraints before he had a chance to wrap his fingers around Rose’s neck, but the real damage had already been done. With seven little words, Caleb had all but sealed his fate.

“I believe that is all I need to hear,” Magistrate Scofield said authoritatively. “Timothy, escort this man back to his cell immediately!”

Caleb struggled against the officer. Obviously he realized as well as anyone that he had made a grievous error. He then lost what little control he had left and he hissed, “Frederick deserved to die, Pembroke deserves to die. I only did what needed to be done…” His voice trailed off as he was finally dragged from the room, everyone staring after him in shock.

“Well, now,” Lady Lancaster said after a few moments of stunned silence, “that was interesting.”

Magistrate Scofield looked at Lady Lancaster as if that were the understatement of the year. And Simon and Rose exchanged semi-amused smiles. William just stood there with his arms crossed, a very satisfied look on his face.

What else was there to say?

…

Soon thereafter, everyone said their good-byes and went their separate ways. Simon helped Rose into his carriage and the two sat side-by-side, hands clasped and in comfortable silence, for much of the ride home from the city.

Just blocks from Rose’s house, Simon turned to her and said, “May I escort you to Hannah and William’s wedding on Sunday?”

Rose looked at him in surprise. “Of course! Honestly, I had already assumed we would go together.”

“Oh?” Simon said, apparently very pleased by her assumption. “Good, good! Then that is all settled. I will pick you up beforehand.”

“All right,” Rose said. Simon’s behavior was somewhat odd, though she couldn’t quite place her finger on exactly what was different, but she had the curious feeling he was hiding something. He seemed awfully pleased by her acceptance of something that in her mind was a foregone conclusion. They were engaged now—officially, that is. Shouldn’t she think they would be attending events together?

Regardless of her curiosity, Rose held her tongue. She was too satisfied by the events of the day and the promise of the future to rock the boat over something as innocuous as an invitation to a friend’s wedding.

Minutes later, the carriage came to a halt in front of Rose’s manor house and Simon jumped out to help Rose down. After a brief farewell, Simon was on his way—presumably home—and Rose was headed for her library. She wanted to do some more reading about trial procedures in a murder case.

If she was going to be a witness—which surely she would be considering her uniquely perceptive talents—she wanted to know exactly what would be expected of her and how she should present herself for maximum effectiveness and efficiency. Never let it be said that if Caleb was found not guilty, it would be through some fault of hers.