Page 79 of The Thorn and the Rose

“Oh,” she said, sighing as she breathed in the familiar scent, tinged with beeswax polish and the perfume of the vibrant fresh flower display on a table before the huge mullioned window. “Oh, it’s so good to be home and to see it looking so wonderful, but why? How?”

“Because this is the home you’ve always dreamed of, love, and like Mills said, it ought to have been yours, for you loved and cared for it. With a bit of help from my father, we broke the entail and bought the property from Everett. We were generous too, so he’s got money enough to have every comfort in the asylum, not that he deserves it, the villain,” Thorn added darkly.

“You bought it?” Rosemarie asked in astonishment. “It’s… It’s truly…”

“It’s ours, Marie. Our home. That is… assuming that I haven’t made a mistake? It is the place you’d like to live?”

“Oh, Thorn!” Rosemarie exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and kissing him all over his face. “Oh, you wonderful, wonderful man! Take me upstairs at once!” she demanded, her eyes glinting with joy and mischief.

“Ah,” Thorn said regretfully. “Sadly, that will have to wait, as there’s another surprise waiting for you.”

He took her hand, leading her through the house and out into the gardens.

“A welcome home party,” he said with a grin as she spied the whole family sitting in the shade of an immense walnut tree.

Her mother jumped up, calling a greeting as Thorn’s mother waved. Tilly jumped from Montagu’s lap and grabbed Izzy’s hand, the two of them running pell mell up the garden towards them as Pip and Phoebe called after them to slow down.

“It really is home,” Rosemarie said in wonder. “With a proper family and… and we can have a garden party like we used to!”

“You can have anything you want, Marie,” Thorn said gravely. “You need only name it. I’d give you the moon if I could.”

Despite the onlookers, Rosemarie kissed him, and then, with a twinkle in her eyes, said quietly. “Well, there is just one thing I want, Thorn.”

“Name it,” he said, gazing down at her with adoration in his eyes.

“Tell me how you got your nickname,” she said, grinning at him.

“Oh, yes, Thorn, tell us, tell us!” the children chorused, as they had arrived just in time to hear her words.

Thorn stilled, and then, to her delight, a tinge of colour blazed high on his cheeks. He turned to the group at the end of the garden. “Pip! I’m going to bloo— I’ll get you for this,” he bellowed, remembering just in time there were children present.

He glowered at Rosemarie and then sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Come and sit down, everyone may as well have a laugh at my expense.”

So they went and greeted the family, sitting themselves down under the enormous walnut tree and waiting for Thorn’s story.

Thorn cleared his throat. “The Duke of Axton has a pack of ill-trained dogs. The biggest male is always called Thorn. It’s tradition. Anyway, when I was a lad, Mother held a large garden party. It was a rare thing, as father doesn’t often open Dern for such events. I was probably about fourteen, and Axton came to the event and brought the dogs. Well, that year I grew a good deal, so much I seemed not to have control over my arms and legs and was forever falling over and breaking things.”

“You looked like a stick insect,” Pip interjected with a grin.

Rosemarie smothered a giggle.

Thorn frowned at her with great dignity. “It’s unkind to mock the afflicted.”

With a grave nod, Rosemarie rearranged her face. “I beg your pardon, do carry on.”

“Hmph. Well, that day was a disaster for me. I fell and flattened some prize-winning plant of my mother’s while playing cricket, bumped into a servant carrying a tray of champagne and sent him flying, and accidentally trod on Lady Lancaster’s dress, tearing the hem clean off. On each occasion I made myself scarce before anyone could tell my father what I’d done,” he said, with a nostalgic smile as the children squealed with glee at the idea of him doing such things. “And then the coup de grâce.”

“Oh dear,” Rosemarie said, watching him with delight as he shook his head and laughed at her amusement.

“I went into the refreshments marquee to get an ice, and there were tables and chairs arranged outside. It was busy, and they were nearly all taken, but I spotted one free. There was my brother, though. Pip had seen it too, but I was determined to get there first. Well, I did, throwing myself down in it I unwittingly sat on some woman’s best hat. I learned later, she thought she had a bee in her hair and had taken it off for her husband to remove it.”

“Oh, no!” Rosemarie exclaimed. “Was it a very fine hat?”

“No, a dreadful thing, dead birds and wax fruit, an utter fright. But I knew I’d be in for it, if I had another strike against me on the same day. So I panicked. I picked up the hat and threw it over my shoulder and ran. As luck would have it, Axton’s dog, Thorn, was sleeping there, and the hat hit him. He seemed to take offence at that and began tearing it to shreds. So now, I had the perfect excuse. Thorn did it.”

He grinned at her, looking so much like an unrepentant schoolboy that she desperately wanted to kiss him. Not bold enough to do such a thing in front of his family, she contented herself with holding his hand.

“So, when Mother and Father finally tracked me down and demanded if I had done all those terrible things, I looked them straight in the eye and said, ‘Thorn did it,’” he explained with a nonchalant shrug.

“Dreadful boy,” his mother said fondly.

Montagu shook his head. “From that day on, whenever something was broken or damaged and no one would admit to it, we said, ‘Thorn did it.’”

“And everyone knew it was me, so it sort of stuck,” Thorn said, laughing.

“I’m glad it did,” Rosemarie said with a smile. “It suits you.”

“Indeed, as you suit each other,” Pip added thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “For everyone knows you cannot have a Rose without a Thorn.”