“You will be a most welcome addition to her home.”
“So she’s told me.”
“I wished more for you, my girl.”
She nodded. “Some things were just not meant to be.” She laid her serviette aside and stood. “I have a great deal to do today, and I need to get started.” She grinned at him. “Are you going to hide out again this afternoon?”
He harrumphed and picked up his paper again. “The door will be open, as always.”
Rose kept grinning as she headed for her office, passing Davis again with two more floral arrangements. “I’m afraid it’s going to be like this for awhile, Davis.”
“The hothouse owners will be thrilled for the duration, I’m sure, my lady.”
Her grin became a laugh. “I’ll be in my office.”
“As you usually are, my lady.” He vanished into the drawing room.
Rose entered her office, pushed the door until it was open a bare crack, and paused. She guessed she usuallywasin here most days. She had never enjoyed paying calls with her mother, much less spending afternoons with a needle and thread. She and Dorothea had never particularly enjoyed each other’s company, so it was well and good that Rose preferred the household ledgers. Her father took care of their estate and other holdings, and for the past five years, they had met once a month to go over the household budget. Then she met regularly with Mrs. Williams and Cook about the running of the house.
It energized her. She felt useful and needed, and Rose knew that—given her circumstances—she had been blessed with a mother who hated running a house and an indulgent father who saw the wisdom in allowing his oldest daughter to take the reins. She had learned a great deal, knowledge she could readily put to use in Yorkshire.
Rose settled at the desk and began the day’s missives, including her report to the gossip sheets on the Eatonton ball. With a stack of letters sealed and ready for delivery, Rose took off her spectacles, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and checked the clock. Not quite nine. She closed her eyes to rest them, and an image of Thomas drifted into her mind, his expression from last night’s dance, his eyes eager and his body warm as he drew her ever closer. She could almost feel the heat of his hand on her waist, his fingers curling, pressing into her flesh—
Tap.“Rose?”
Rose inhaled sharply as Cecily stepped into the office, gripping another fistful of cards. She straightened and motioned for Cecily to come closer. They sorted them, then Cecily went off to write her own notes as Sarah peered around the door, her eyebrows raised in question. She held up Rose’s reticule, bonnet, and cloak. They were late.
Rose had sent for the carriage earlier, so they arrived on Oxford Street only a few minutes after ten. Sarah followed Rose as they passed by the wrought iron of Cumberland Gate. Unsure which path to take, Rose made a quick decision to head down the one that paralleled Park Lane. It was less likely to host many walkers this early in the day—save for a few nannies and their rambunctious charges. The early spring flowers that lined the walk—hyacinths, daffodils, narcissi, and tulips—filled the air with a heady bouquet, and Rose wished she had time to enjoy the spectacle they made. Instead, she started down the path with a long stride, her eyes searching for a tall man in a top hat.
Behind her, she heard Sarah gasp, but before she could look back, a warm hand grasped her elbow, that husky baritone coming from over her right shoulder. “You are certainly in a hurry this morning, Lady Rose.”
She stopped short, and he bumped into her with a low chuckle, his fingers tightening on her elbow. “Careful, my lady. It wouldn’t do for us to tumble over each other on the path.”
Rose turned, looking up at Thomas, ready to speak, but her breath caught at the unexpected affection in his eyes. He seemed even more handsome in the bright light of the morning sun, freshly shaven, his white cravat starched and sharply pointed. He wore a dark gray waistcoat, but everything else was black, from his top hat to his boots. His wolf’s-head cane dangled from the fingers of his left hand, and Rose half expected him to twirl it. She backed away from him, swallowing hard. “I apologize, Lord Newbury, for our tardiness.”
“I should have realized that the morning after a ball would be a busy one for you and your sister. Sorting through all comers?” He swept the air with his hand, indicating that they should walk.
Rose looked back at Sarah, who stared unabashedly at Thomas until Rose cleared her throat. With a jerk, Sarah nodded, then glanced behind them. The path remained deserted for now. As Rose and Thomas moved forward, he offered her his arm. She looked at it, hesitating long enough that he whispered, “I’m relatively safe in public, Lady Rose.”
Rose felt the heat spread across her cheeks and down her neck as she slipped her hand inside his elbow. He hooked his cane over his forearm and closed his other hand over her fingers with a gentle squeeze that caused heat to bloom in an entirely different part of her anatomy.
Rose. Stop it!
She cleared her throat. “You said you had information for me.”
“Indeed I do. As you might have guessed, men gathered together on dark terraces, unaccompanied by the fairer sex, trade in gossip that would shock even those authors of scandal sheets.” He stopped and pulled a folded sheath of papers from inside his topcoat and handed it to her. She released his arm and tucked the pages into her reticule as he continued. “A few rumors, declared assignations, threats, a few promises—some so outlandish I cannot imagine any woman with a smattering of intelligence believing them.”
“Hope and desperation have made many a young woman oblivious to the obvious, Lord Newbury. And have since Adam told God it was Eve’s fault.”
Thomas laughed. He moved closer, the back of his hand brushing lightly along her forearm. An aroma of sandalwood, mint, and soap drew her in. “I imagine our priest would be intrigued by that interpretation.”
Rose felt her breath catch as her eyes focused on his words... his mouth... as she whispered, “I imagine he would despair for my immortal soul.”
His voice dropped to an intimate murmur as his fingers tenderly traced up her arm to her shoulder, then lingering at the high collar, one finger on the pulse in her neck, a touch that sent her heart racing. “It would cast new light on the temptation of Eve,” he whispered. And those soft, full lips moved closer to hers.
Rose’s mind screeched for her to move away, but his touch was alluring, his scent enticing, the very warmth of his fingertip mesmerizing. “Do you have any idea how wicked you are?”
His grin underscored his words as pure desire lit his eyes. “Do you have any idea how wicked I want to be?” The finger on her neck traced the edge of her collar, and every muscle tensed as his lips brushed hers, a bare hint of a touch. He paused, waiting.
