Page 9 of A Daring Desire

“Well, I do, and I shall,” Cat retorted, even though she was terrified it was a lie, but Kilbane had said she must nurse him, and if Pippin was not here to help, then that was just what she would do.

Rose sipped her tea as Cat and Mr Berrycloth hurried back to check on Lord Kilbane. Mr Berrycloth’s revelations had been shocking and Rose did not know how she felt about having Lord Kilbane here. Though she knew what her father would say and expected a summons to return home at any moment. She wished she could stay, for did not want to see Cat hurt by a man who was said by all to be immoral and wicked. Cat was no fool, but she seemed to have a blind spot where her husband was concerned. Rose knew all the reasons Cat did not blame him for the way he had ignored her these past years, but it still seemed a very odd, not to say cruel thing to do as far as Rose was concerned. She was still pondering this, and considering with awe Aggie’s part in the adventure, when Jefferies appeared in the doorway.

“There is a Lord Marlowe to see you, Lady Rose,” he said.

“Good heavens!” Rose exclaimed, rather shocked by the audacity of the man.

The last time she had seen him, he had threatened to call upon her the moment he returned to England, but she had believed he was merely teasing her. Apparently not. The instinct to have Jefferies tell him she was not at home was strong. Yet, he had been party to all that had happened in Paris and the opportunity to ask questions was hard to resist.

“Show him in, please, Jefferies,” she replied, deciding she would treat him with cool civility until he answered her questions and then get rid of him as fast as she could.

Rose felt her heart give an unsteady thud before quickening its pace as Lord Marlowe strode into the room. Why he had this peculiar effect upon her she could not fathom, for she did not like him one bit. His manners were appalling, and he had nothing even vaguely resembling a social grace. He was neither handsome nor particularly stylish. He dressed well, but with nothing approaching flair, seeming to prefer function and comfort over fashion, and yet there was a magnetic quality about him she thoroughly distrusted. She considered if perhaps she was a little afraid of him, for he was a big, fierce-looking fellow, and his blunt manners were hardly calculated to put one at ease, but she did not think that was it. She considered calling for her maid to come and sit with her for propriety’s sake, but judged Marlowe’s conversation to be shocking enough to give the poor girl a conniption and decided against it.

He waited until Jefferies left them alone, discreetly leaving the door ajar.

“Well, here I am, as promised,” he said, leaning casually against the fireplace as if he owned it.

“Am I to congratulate you, my lord?” Rose replied with an icy edge to the words. “Perhaps I am remiss for not putting the date in my calendar, but I was unaware we had a rendezvous scheduled.”

“Fustian. I told you I would call on you the moment I returned to England to ensure you did not sink into a decline in my absence,” he said with a cool smile. “Did you miss me?”

Rose stared at him, appalled and astonished by his insolence. “Sink into a… M-Miss you?” she stammered, so outraged she could hardly speak, let alone form a coherent sentence.

“Well, you did say you would be bereft without my company, my lady,” he reminded her.

“In jest!” she shot back, incredulous. She surged to her feet, stalking towards him. “Which ought to be patently obvious, even to you, though I admit you must have the hide of a… a rhinoceros not to be aware when someone thinks you abominable, and… and….”

“Insufferable?” he suggested, dark eyebrows quirking.

Rose glared at him. “Certainly insufferable, and obnoxious, and rude, and… and….”

“How about odious?” he suggested. “Always a good one, that.”

“Yes, odious and—”

“Loathsome,” he cut in, and with such relish that Rose struggled against a sudden bubble of laughter at the ridiculous nature of the conversation. “Yes, you are indeed the most l-loathsome….” Her voice quavered with mirth, and she stamped her foot, furious with him for making her laugh. “The most provoking man alive!” she finished.

Triumph glittered in his eyes and Rose gave a huff of irritation, turning away from him with a swish of expensive fabric and stalking to the window.

“Was there something you wanted, other than to put me quite out of patience with you?” she demanded.

“To see you,” he replied, his frank gaze unapologetic.

Rose turned quickly back to regard him, so astonished by this that colour flamed in her cheeks.

“Whatever for?” she asked, annoyed to discover herself sounding so breathless.

“I would have thought that obvious,” he remarked, his tone dry, that rather mocking look lurking in his eyes again.

“Well, it cannot be because you admire me, for your behaviour is such as I would not wish on an enemy, let alone someone I hoped to endear to me,” she said hotly, trying hard to ignore the odd fluttery sensation that was erupting in her belly, never mind the agitated dance her heart was enduring.

“I’m not one of the romantic puppies that slobber about your skirts, hoping for a dropped crumb,” he said, clearly amused by her outrage.

“P-Puppies,” she said faintly, lips quavering at this image. She firmed them and swallowed down the urge to indulge in a fit of hysterical laughter with difficulty. “That is a most disagreeable, not to say, inaccurate description of the most amiable, worthy and… and….”

“Dull,” he suggested this time, his eyes glinting with devilry.

Rose compressed her lips and took a moment to steady herself. She would not laugh. On no account. He was the most odious man she had ever had the misfortune to meet, and she would not encourage his appalling behaviour by letting him draw her into behaving as badly as him.