The Rogue's Reluctant Rose (3 page)

“Araminta
danced
with Lord Chestleton, you know, mama,” Susan had suddenly announced, her eyes sparkling teasingly at Minta. She had said nothing of it at the party, but Araminta had known that Susan was just biding her time until she could bring it up in private. That way she could be sure to extract all the pleasure out of the conversation, which would not have been proper to do in company.

“Did you, my dear? I declare, I did not see it.” Lady Worthing had looked concerned. “Why ever would you dance with him? You would do well to keep away. He is very dangerous for a lady’s reputation.”

Her aunt was too genteel and kind to point out that this was doubly true for a lady in Araminta’s circumstance. Araminta knew this, and was thankful, though her circumstance was never far from
her
own mind.

“I know, Aunt,” she had replied, carefully keeping her voice soft even as her heartbeat sped up at the memory. “But it seems he was an old friend of Charles’ and I had met him as I child, though I do not recall it. I could not refuse him the dance without causing offense.”

“Quite right, my girl,” agreed her Uncle Worthing. “It would have shown your manners to be lacking. Lord Chestleton, despite his regrettable reputation, is a very well-connected gentleman. His father had been one of the Regent’s friends in his day, and quite a pleasant man for all his flaws. His mother was certainly a woman of first quality — a very kind soul and of good family, also. It’s a wonder the current marquis is such a Corinthian. Did you know, my dear Mary, that he has regular vouchers to Almack’s?” he asked his wife.

Almack’s were the most exclusive assembly rooms in London and one had to be of the finest quality to warrant an invitation. Even being of blood royal was not enough to guarantee vouchers.

Lady Worthing had nodded thoughtfully. “I had heard as much. He is considered quite the catch among some of the matrons, you know, my love. But I would not have him for one of our girls, or for our Minta. No woman married to that rogue of a man could ever hope to be happy, even if she could get him to the church at all.”

“And that is good, mama, for we have no intention of catching him, do we, Minta?” laughed Susan before changing the subject. “Do you know, Lord Harris said that he would call on me tomorrow morning so that we might go for a walk. Perhaps Minta would come along, as chaperone? Would you, my dear?”

Susan had looked so blessedly happy at the thought of Lord Harris’s impending visit that Araminta had not had the heart to refuse her, though her head had been full of her own thoughts and she had no real desire to walk with the young couple the next day.

“Certainly, if your cousin agrees. And you will take your maid, my dear — Araminta is our guest, and I do not wish her to feel put-upon.”

Susan had not seemed affected by her mother’s stern tone, as she smiled winningly at her cousin.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Minta had agreed, with a smile of her own. Susan appeared to be getting quite attached to Lord Harris, which gratified Araminta, who couldn’t help noticing that Susan had appeared glum after a stay at the Worthing country house over the winter.

***

True to his word, Lord Harris arrived at the Grandston House promptly at ten o’clock. He was received by Lord Worthing and provided with tea and fresh scones while he waited for Susan to appear.

Susan had taken her time in selecting the right walking dress, at last deciding on a pale mint gown, trimmed with delicate Belgian lace around the neck and hem. The gown was well cut, with a graceful fall in the skirt. The colour was perfectly suited to her and brightened her complexion. Over the gown, Susan wore a thin matching pelisse, reaching almost to her ankles. Araminta thought that her cousin looked radiant and was sure to make Lord Harris fall even more in love with her. Her prediction was confirmed, she decided, by the way Lord Harris’s face lit up as Susan entered the study.

Araminta retrieved her own taffeta parasol, fetchingly trimmed with blue fringe, and a chantilly lace shawl, which had once belonged to her mother. Her own dress was a pale blue, and though simple in design, the colour restored some brightness to her complexion, which had been lost in the months of mourning from which she had only just emerged. She knew that a young lady always needed to appear at her best, especially when out for a walk on the town. One never knew when one might meet a person of consequence and it was important to always be prepared. She pinched her cheeks in an attempt to heighten her colour before descending down the stairs.

***

Lord Harris was a very pleasant man, decided Araminta, as he walked with them through the fashionable West End. His good-natured, handsome face was animated as he spoke to the young ladies, and he seemed very enamoured with Susan.

“You know, my dear Miss Sutton,” Harris was saying, “I have recently purchased a new curricle for the use of my mother and sisters, and I have yet to test it out myself. Perhaps a turn abound Hyde Park would do the trick. What say you?”

“It certainly might,” agreed Susan, smiling beautifically through lowered lashes.

“Of course, I shouldn’t think I’d like it at all, if I were to go in it alone.”

“Quite understandable, my lord. And it simply would not do for you to dislike it for so silly a reason.”

“Oh, yes. What would you suggest, Miss Sutton, to help me out of such a sorry plight?”

“I couldn’t rightly say, my dear sir. Perhaps you ought to set out with some company instead?”

“Hmm. I must say, I like your idea. Perhaps, Miss Sutton, you would do me the honour of accompanying me? With your father’s permission, of course.”

“I’d be delighted — ”

Araminta, only half-listening to the conversation, did not catch the rest of her cousin’s reply. Her eyes were caught on a tall figure heading towards them down the street. It was, unmistakably, the Marquis of Chestleton. Araminta felt her breath catch and her pulse quicken. He did not appear to have seen them yet, preoccupied as he was in conversation with the shorter gentleman with whom he was walking. His strides, noticed Araminta, were strong, with a kind of coiled power behind his every movement.

She felt a moment of panic as she wondered how she could avoid a meeting. It would not do to be seen with him, and she could not be sure of her own reaction upon encountering the virile lord once again. She had yet to catch his notice, but it was just a matter of time. Walking on the same side of the street, they would be obliged to stop and exchange greetings. She considered crossing the carriageway, but she did not know how she would explain it to Susan and Lord Harris, and there was no conceivable way to cross the street unmarked. She knew she would make a fool of herself if she were to try. Araminta considered simply quickening her step and pretending not to have noticed him, but dismissed it quickly. Nor could she turn back the way they had come. Looking around quickly, the solution caught her eye.

“Just a minute, Lord Harris, Susan,” she said, trying to look un-harried.

“Why, my dear Miss Barrington, are you quite alright?” Harris sounded concerned. “You look very flushed.”

“Do I? Oh, it is nothing, I promise you. Merely the exertion of the stroll. I am quite well: I only wondered if you would mind terribly if I were to step into Goodman’s Books for a moment. There is a volume there which I would very much like to look at. I should not be at all long.”

Harris laughed. “No, no, by all means, do go in. We shall go in also, Miss Worthing, if you do not mind?”

Susan did not, and Araminta shot an anxious look ahead of them at the much-nearer marquis, who still did not appear to have spied her, before quickly stepping into the establishment.

***

As she made her way through the shop, surrounded by shelves piled high with many different tomes, Araminta felt her breathing return to normal. The sudden sense of relief made her smile brightly at the proprietor, as she returned the man’s polite greeting.

Lord Harris and Susan lingered by the philosophy shelves at the front of the shop, talking softly under the watchful eye of Dorothy, Susan’s maid.

Araminta quickly made her way over to the shelves piled high with novels. Gentlemen, she had heard, did not endeavour to read novels very often. There would be little chance of Chestleton coming across her there, should he by some chance venture into the little book shop.

Her heart light with relief, she picked out a tome. Araminta’s lips curled into a faint smile as she opened it gently. In a moment she was lost. It was a tale of horror and adventure, in the style of Mrs Ann Radcliffe. As she ventured out into the world of the novel along with the heroine, Araminta was vaguely aware of the tinkling of a little bell, suggesting the arrival of new customers into the shop. A murmured greeting followed, but Araminta paid it no heed as she perused the book.

It promised to be a wonderful story. She knew that she ought not purchase any books. The family finances were in such straits that she ought to save every penny of her own small income. With a sigh, Araminta made to close the slim volume.

“I admire your choice in literature, Miss Barrington,” a velvety voice said into her ear, startling her and making her jump. A shiver of recognition went down Minta’s spine and she spun around, fighting the flush that spread across her face.

“Lord Chestleton,” she stammered, finding him much closer to her than was appropriate. She could feel warmth emanating from him, and a scent of spice and leather. Her flush deepening, Araminta tried to edge farther away in the confined space, furtively looking around to check that none witnessed their compromising situation. Chestleton watched her with a roguish smirk on his sensuously thin lips.

“My dear Miss Barrington, I wonder what could have put you so decidedly out of sorts. I say, you’re quite disconcerted.”

Araminta stopped backing away long enough to look at him with wide midnight-blue eyes. She felt the prickles of irritation at his obvious mirth. Here she was, trying to save both of their reputations from social disgrace, and he had the gall to stand there and smirk.

Chestleton found that he enjoyed the way her eyes flashed in anger, and the way her rosy mouth tightened so as not to say anything inappropriate. There was a veneer of very tight control over Araminta Barrington, both in her actions and words. He had a feeling that she had quite a lot to say to him, and was just as certain that she would say none of it. He was fascinated by the woman underneath her polished facade. He could only imagine how devastatingly lovely she would be if she were to lose her control. It was a pity she clung to it so determinedly. Chestleton, however, loved nothing so much as a challenge.

“I am not in the least disconcerted, my lord,” said Araminta in a chilly voice, returning her book to the shelf and wishing furiously that he would move away. She was backed as far against the shelves as she could go, and she could not escape the narrow space without brushing up against him. His proximity made her light-headed and weak-kneed, as she had only been once, as a girl of fifteen, when she and her brother had stolen a bottle of their father’s champagne, and sampled it in the music room. “I am, however, appalled that you would take a lady as unawares as you have done. You gave me a fright.”

“Did I really? Apologies, I’m sure, my dear,” he murmured, not looking apologetic in the least. “I meant merely to give my regards. I saw you in the street, you know, walking with your friends, before you vanished into this fine establishment. I’m certain that you could not have seen
me
, else you would not have disappeared so quickly, and I felt it only my duty as a gentleman to pay my respects.”

Araminta had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew perfectly well that she had seen him out in the street. More unsettlingly, she suspected that he had a very good inkling as to why she had really gone into the shop. She carefully kept whatever of her composure remained.

“Did you? You flatter me, my lord. And now, I daresay my friends are looking for me. I promised not keep them long, and I must return. If you would excuse me?” Araminta knew that it was only a matter of time before someone came into the back of the shop and saw them. If that should happen, she knew that she would be ruined.

“I would not dream of keeping you, my dear.” His dark voice seemed to caress her and he leaned even closer. His warm breath next to her ear made her freeze, heart pounding in her ears.

“Then… then perhaps you will let me pass, sir,” she replied breathlessly.

He chuckled, and suddenly stepped back with a gracious bow.

“Your servant, my lady.”

Araminta was momentarily startled at the loss of his presence. She blinked at him owlishly in confusion, before attempting a curtsey despite her weak knees.

“Good day, Lord Chestleton,” she said quickly, before hurrying past, her book forgotten. She hoped he had not read the startlement on her face

Her flustered appearance surprised Susan and Lord Harris as they joined her on the street, but she was quick to dismiss their concern, using the stuffiness of the little shop as an excuse.

She spent the rest of their stroll trying to take part in the conversation as best she could, though she wished fervently she were back in her own room, alone with her thoughts. At the back of her mind, Araminta was aware that she faced a very significant obstacle in the powerful form of Jasper, Marquis of Chestleton.

***

The clock in the hall struck midnight. Jasper Devereaux leant back in his wing-back arm chair of newly-upholstered green. His eyes drifted lazily half-closed and he gazed absently at his half-full whiskey tumbler. His library in Kilney House, the Devereaux Townhouse in St James Square, was to him a bastion of comfort and peace, well away from societal niceties which made dinner parties and balls such a dreadful bore.

Of course, the season promised to be a lot more entertaining now, Jasper thought. Yes, it would be nothing if not
entertaining
.

He had only been back from White’s an hour, after a particularly invigorating game of billiards, when one of his informants had called for him. The Marquis of Chestleton had many informants. He liked knowing things before others did. His network of informants was certain to give him an upper hand whenever he wanted one. This time was no exception. He was certain that he was the only person in London, apart from the family and solicitor, to hold the knowledge that he now possessed.