Page 45 of Mad With Love


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Chapter Twelve

Familiar Faces

Marlow had been so busy looking around the room, he hadn’t noticed the tall, dark-haired gentleman sitting just behind and to the left of him.

“August, I’ll be damned. Hallo. Jesus and the devil, it’s good to see you.”

They stood and shook hands, before launching at one another in an enthusiastic embrace. August pulled away and grasped Marlow’s head on either side, studying his new look. “I wouldn’t have recognized you if I hadn’t looked twice. Where’s your hair gone, old chap? How are you to impress the ladies without it? And why are you here instead of India? Lady Rosalind is with you, I hope?”

“She’s at an inn on Via Condotti. We’re at the inn. Together. We’re married now.” He rubbed his face, overcome. “It’s a hell of a long story if you’ve got an hour or two to hear it.”

“I think I need to hear it,” his friend said, calling to the attendant for a full bottle of brandy.

Marlow was so relieved to have found this familiar, well-loved companion after so much strife, among so many strangers, he could barely compose himself. He started the long, complex narrative by explaining how Rosalind had stowed aboard ship as the Widow Lintel, eliciting a low whistle from August.

“I can’t believe she dared it,” he said. “Her parents were well put out. They’re in Florence, by the way, with Felicity. A big group of us came along with them to get away from London and the scandal. Townsend’s there, and Jane. Wescott and Ophelia couldn’t come because of the baby.”

Marlow swallowed hard. So, the confrontation would come sooner than later. “How long have they been there?”

“A couple of weeks. Felicity is expecting again.” His animated features went slack a moment, and Marlow understood why his cousin was here in Rome, rather than in Florence with the rest of them. It was beginning to look like he’d never get past his unrequited longing for Rosalind’s older sister Felicity. “Her Grace is looking after Felicity as a mama does, and occupying her grandchildren with all sorts of activities. I imagine it’s partly to keep her mind off Rosalind. Why are you in Rome, then? Are you meaning to take Rosalind home?” He rubbed his neck. “Good lord, Marlow, you should have continued on to India. There’ll be hell and a half to pay. Her family were beside themselves. The duke sent a ship out to catch the Providence, but they had no luck finding it.”

“They won’t find it, not now. The Providence sank a fortnight ago.”

“What?” August nearly knocked his glass over in shock. “It sank? How do you know?”

“Because we were on it. We had to dive off the side and swim.” Marlow rubbed his temple, a quick, nervous gesture before pushing the memories back down. “Some fishermen plucked us out of the waves and saved our lives.”

August gaped at him. “I can’t believe you. Are you having me for a laugh? The ship sank? You went into the water and everything, with Rosalind too?”

It was an incredible story, looking back. They’d come close to dying, to drowning miles from home, which was a hard thing to think about even when you’d managed to stay alive.

“We were taken in by some villagers in Santa Maria di Leuca and started traveling north once Rosalind got her strength back. We wrote to Felicity and her prince to inform them of our impending arrival. Didn’t they get the letter?”

“Not that I know of, but I didn’t stay for long.”

“We lost everything we had when the ship went down. We’ve been traveling on very little money, only what I could get for my jewelry and clothes, and my hair.”

“You sold your hair.” August blew out a breath, still mired in shock. “What a cursed caper. Dumped into the water, by God. Better His Grace’s ship had found you and hauled both of you home by your ears.”

“I can’t even think about it.” He shook his head, thinking he shouldn’t have drunk so deeply. He was growing morose. “We were married in Santa Maria de Leuca by the village priest. Rosalind is well. We’ve been holding things together, but I don’t know what will happen when we get to Florence. Her father is a powerful man.”

“Yes, and Townsend wants to disconnect your head from your shoulders. They thought you planned it all, that you convinced Rosalind to elope with you to India. I suppose I believed it too, because it strains credulity to think she would set off on her own like that, hiding behind a widow’s veil.”

“Rosalind has been… Well, an utter surprise to me in so many ways.” A slight flush heated the tips of his ears and his cheeks. He hoped his friend didn’t notice. “You wouldn’t believe what she’s capable of, nor how strong she can be. Even so, I must get her back to England. I dread the consequences, but she’s not meant for the fugitive life. Now I’ve wed her, and she’s stuck with me…”

“There is love, yes?” His friend’s voice betrayed a note of worry. “You are not unhappy together?”

“I’m enamored of her. Hopefully it’s enough to steer us through the stormy seas ahead, especially after the stormy seas we’ve already weathered.”

“Hopefully there won’t be another shipwreck.” August joked, but there was an underpinning of concern in his voice.

“We did write to her parents as well, to explain the course of events. Rosalind confessed her part in everything.” He grinned, downing the last of his drink. “It was daring of her, wasn’t it?”

“It was mad of her. I suppose it’s strong evidence that she truly loves you, that the two of you were meant to be together no matter what Townsend and his parents think.” He stared at Marlow, as if still trying to believe they were together, now, in this foreign gentlemen’s club. “To be honest, I’m glad you’re not in India. I’m glad you’re here, and that you and Rosalind are safe. If you’re truly happy together, then I shall help you in whatever way I can.”

“I need funds, friend, and better clothes, and a coach to take us to Florence because I’ve spent most of what we had.”

“Done. You needn’t even ask. I’ve my own coach here in Rome, and a smart team of horses. We can return to Florence together.”

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