Wicked Rivals Page 11

  “Save that for this evening, Lowell. I’ll be out in the fields today.” He shot a look her way. “Good, you’re awake. I shall be working to clear away some burned farmhouses if you wish to join me.”

  “You want me to go with you?” That surprised her. She assumed that he wouldn’t want to be near her. Not after last night. A wet, bedraggled creature who’d shared her weaknesses? It was not her finest moment and certainly not her most attractive one.

  The smile that curved his lips pricked her pride. “What else would you do all day? Mope about? Rosalind, you aren’t the sort of woman to remain idle during the day. So what’s it to be?”

  The idea of spending a day indoors with nothing to do wasn’t at all appealing. But did she want to spend time with Ashton? She supposed she ought to given the ruse they’d agreed to play. And she supposed it would be interesting to see what he did most of the day.

  Rosalind blinked. When had she become interested in Ashton’s daily life? Yet she was—and far more than idly curious. It wouldn’t hurt to indulge that curiosity while she played the part of a courted lady.

  “I suppose I could accompany you…for appearances’ sake.”

  The damnable man was still smiling. “Excellent. Your maid Claire just arrived with your coach. She’s eaten and is ready to assist you. Have a quick breakfast, and then we shall ride out.” He took the coat Lowell held out and strode to the door.

  She called after him, “I’m still not agreeing to anything else beyond our arrangement!”

  Ashton paused in the doorway. “And I’m still giving you a week to change your mind.” Before she could reply, he was gone.

  Lowell cleared his throat. “Do you wish me to leave, Your Ladyship? I usually tidy up now, but if you need to…” His face turned a ruddy color.

  “Oh, I’m sorry…Mr. Lowell, is it? If you could bring Claire to me, I shall be out of your way shortly.”

  “Yes, Your Ladyship.” Lowell hastily departed, and Rosalind climbed out of bed, wincing as a number of muscles twinged in protest. Her feet were still blistered and her back still sore from the grain sacks. Her arms ached from an evening of carrying dishes. Walking through the pain, she rushed to the dressing room to see to her needs before Lowell returned with her maid.

  When she returned to the bedchamber, Claire had already placed Rosalind’s valise on the bed and was muttering to herself as she shuffled through the clothes.

  “Your Ladyship!” She rushed over to embrace Rosalind. The intimate gesture was not at all appropriate, but after what they’d been through, it came as a relief.

  “Are you well? What happened? Why did you leave me at the inn?” The flurry of questions made Rosalind’s head throb.

  “I’m fine, Claire, truly. I’ll explain everything.”

  As her maid ran a bath and began sorting through her travel case, Rosalind narrated the entirety of the night’s events, though she left out the more intimate moments with Ashton. There was no need to have Claire thinking she was actually going to marry the man.

  “So you are to remain here then? In His Lordship’s chambers?” Claire’s keen eyes took in the understated elegance of the room. Noting something off, she pointed suddenly. “What are those for?”

  “What?” Rosalind looked to where her maid was gesturing, over the bed. They came closer. Over the headboard hung a rather curious drapery. Rosalind climbed onto the bed, giving the curtain a little tug. The fabric fell away to reveal a large, ornate gilt mirror. It hung out from the wall at an odd angle.

  “That’s strange. What do you suppose…?”

  She covered it up, not wanting to pry, but still curious about what such a mirror could be used for. Then again, Ashton was full of mysteries. She’d have to add this to an ever growing list of things she wanted to know about him. But that would have to wait. She took a hasty bath, mindful that at any moment Ashton could return.

  Her maid beckoned to a chair. “Come and sit. I’ll see what I can manage with your hair.”

  Claire was putting on the finishing touches when Ashton returned. He halted mid-step, and she watched him in the reflection of the tall mirror. For a moment she swore there had been warmth in those eyes.

  Perhaps I’m only imagining what I wish to see.

  “Rose is a fetching color on you.” He came over, walking a half circle around her, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. “Yes, that color is magnificent.”

  Rosalind frowned. She didn’t like how he behaved, as though her appearance required his approval. As though he owned her.

  “Claire, find my green gown,” Rosalind said. “I shall change—”

  “No!” Ashton cut her off, not sharply, but firmly. “Don’t be silly, Rosalind. Claire has better things to do than change your clothes simply because you wish to be contrary to me.”

  She arched a brow. “It is not my goal to please you. If I wish to change, I may change.”

  His eyes twinkled. “I agree. You have every right to change clothes. However, a woman of your intellect has far better uses for her time than figuring out how to rebel against me with petty wardrobe changes. I’d much rather put your mind to a better task. I have architectural plans for my new tenant farmhouses, and I should like to consult you on them.”

  “Consult with me?”

  Ashton tugged on his waistcoat. “Shipbuilding is a bit like house building, and we’ve both had a fair amount of experience with that. I’d like your opinion on whether the proposed layouts are suitable. Besides, Mother would be delighted to see us interacting on something like this. It would help convince her I’m serious about you.”

  “What’s wrong with the houses?” she asked, eager to divert her attention to something else.

  “They were burned to the ground two days ago. I am eager to rebuild them because the families who lived there are out of house and home.”

  “Oh no. Where are they staying?”

  “They are currently in my spare servants’ quarters until I can see to the new houses.”

  “The families are here?” She couldn’t picture Ashton opening his home to simple farm folk. It was too…kind of him, and in her dealings with him she knew Ashton was not a kind man. Cunning, calculating, respectful of his obligations, perhaps, but not kind.

  “Of course. They are my responsibility.”

  She bit her lip. “Both houses burned down the same night? Were they next to each other?”

  “Different properties, but nearby.”

  “That sounds like it was not a coincidence.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his gaze turned distant. “Yes, I suspect someone orchestrated the event.”

  “Does this have anything to do with what led to you being shot last Christmas?”

  That was something she would not soon forget. When she’d first met him, one of his arms had been in a sling. She’d gotten him to admit that he’d been shot at a brothel. To her surprise it had not been while sampling the pleasures of the ladies, but rather investigating rumors of an assassination attempt on his friend’s life.

  “I’m not sure, but I shan’t let my guard down. So, will you consult with me on the house plans?”

  She bit her bottom lip as she thought it over. “I suppose I could.”

  “Excellent. Are you ready for breakfast? I’m famished after last night.” He gave her a roguish wink. Before she could stop herself, she was smiling, but she hastily forced her lips into a scowl.

  “You’re trying to embarrass me in front of Claire,” she hissed in accusation as she joined him at the door.

  He was still grinning as he offered her his arm. “I do admit to a sense of exhilaration in the art of provoking you.”

  This side of him caught her off guard. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined the cool, collected man to be so…playful.

  She let him escort her downstairs to the dining room. Just because he wasn’t always acting the gentleman did not mean she would stop acting like a lady.

  The dining roo
m was a lovely space with walnut-paneled walls and a host of family portraits. Two long sets of windows overlooked a garden full of roses, forsythia and a dozen other colorful plants. The sunlight bathed the room in a cheery haze of soft light that made Rosalind feel at home. The castle she’d grown up in did not have such luxuries. It was dank and dreary by comparison, a holdover of long-forgotten glories.

  “Do you like it?” Ashton asked.

  “Yes, very much. I was thinking of how different this is from my childhood home. My late husband’s townhouse is lovely, but I’ve always preferred the country. It reminds me of Scotland.”

  Ashton escorted her to a chair and seated her, then began to prepare her a plate without even asking. Rather than be upset, she enjoyed the thought of him doing something so polite. It should have seemed out of character for him, given her experiences with him, but it didn’t.

  He’d only just set his plate down when two other men burst into the room, laughing and talking. She recognized the golden-haired, rakish and handsome Earl of Lonsdale immediately. The Quizzing Glass Gazette had once claimed that he’d bedded thirty women in one night during a lavish party in Covent Garden. It had to be a rumor because she’d heard that men tended to fall asleep after just one encounter. There was no way he could have survived thirty.

  She eyed Charles as he flashed a winning smile. He had a muscled physique much like Ashton’s. Perhaps some men could go all night…

  “Good morning, Lady Melbourne. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Ash, come over and see to the introductions.” Charles nudged the second man as he beamed at Rosalind.

  Ashton came to stand beside her. “Rosalind, this is Charles Humphrey, the Earl of Lonsdale, and this,” he said as he nodded at the second man, “is Jonathan St. Laurent, brother to the Duke of Essex.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jonathan bent in a courtly manner over her hand and kissed it. Charles did the same, but with a glint in his eyes that made Rosalind nervous.

  “I have heard of you both,” she said, challenging Charles with a smirk of her own.

  “Only wicked things, I hope,” Charles said with a chuckle. “Sadly, only half the stories I hear about myself of late are true. Except the one about the swans—that’s most definitely true.”

  Rosalind had no idea what he was talking about. “Swans?”

  Ashton cut Charles off with a cough.

  “Right,” Jonathan covered smoothly. “How are you feeling, Lady Melbourne? You suffered a great ordeal last night. I trust you have had some rest?”

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. St. Laurent.”

  “Please, call me Jonathan or Jon.” His smile was more warm and friendly than Rosalind had expected of someone who was friends with Ashton. He was so calm and cool, and she expected his friends to be equally so.

  “I am well, thank you, Jonathan. I believe I’m mostly recovered from my adventure.” She would not admit her feet still hurt or that her body ached.

  “I imagine so, walking so far in a soaked dress. You must have been carrying your own weight in rain and mud.” Charles took a seat.

  “She’s a strong lady,” Ashton informed Charles. A frown twisted his lips.

  “Er…indeed,” Charles agreed, and then he stared at Jonathan’s plate. “For God’s sake, man, eat some fruit. You can’t survive on eggs and biscuits alone.”

  Rosalind nearly missed it, but she saw Ashton’s lips twitch as he watched Charles order the younger man about. There was something about this moment that held significance. She was glimpsing a moment of Ashton’s private life, a time when his guard was down and his heart was open.

  He’d hinted last night at how he was bonded to his friends, but seeing it was another thing entirely. Something about these men made her feel homesick for Scotland and her brothers. Brock, Brodie and Aiden had taken care of her and each other just like these men did. It was what family was for, to love and care for one another. The League was Ashton’s family.

  When she’d sat down for tea with Emily, Horatia and Anne, she’d sensed a similar connection. Those women were friends just as their husbands were. Loyal, true, honest. Thinking of them reminded her how she wished she could share some of that closeness. She felt even more alone here watching Ashton with his friends.

  Would it be that way if she ever remarried? Would she find herself in a circle of friendship such as this, or were the League of Rogues and their wives an anomaly in the city of London?

  “Here.” Ashton refilled Rosalind’s plate and poured more tea for her.

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling strangely shy. It still shocked her that this was all happening. Two days ago they were ready to kill each other, and now it was feigned courtship and real kisses?

  “Will you be joining us to assess the tenant farms?” Jonathan asked.

  She looked in Ashton’s direction, expecting him to answer for her, but when he didn’t, she almost sighed in relief.

  “I believe I shall.”

  “Excellent.” Jonathan smiled, and they enjoyed the remainder of their breakfast. Jonathan and Charles insisted on sharing a number of stories about Ashton, and she could tell by the rising color on his face that these were stories he didn’t wish for her to hear.

  “Did you know he was the only one among the League to get top marks at university?” Jonathan told her.

  “The only one who did it without charming any of the professors’ daughters,” Ashton corrected.

  “Oh?” She laughed at the disgruntled expression on Charles’s face.

  “What’s wrong with bedding a lady simply because her father is a professor? Doesn’t mean a man cheats, you know.”

  “It is when you forget to hide the parchment with the examination answers.” Ashton chortled.

  Charles threw his head back as though searching the heavens for an intervention. “Take Pepper Plumsby to bed one time…”

  “Pepper?” Rosalind giggled. “Oh dear, was that really her name? Did she a have a sister named Salt?”

  Ashton’s rich laugh startled her, but then the other two men started laughing too.

  Jonathan smacked his thigh. “She has a point, Charles. You ought to pick bed partners with better names.”

  “You of all people should know appearances can be deceiving,” Charles cut in. “Pepper was a lovely little chit and quite good in the blankets. She had this way of using her—”

  “Charles,” Ashton warned, nodding towards Rosalind.

  “Oh, right. Well, should we go? The tenants will be anxious to get started on clearing away the debris, see if there is anything worth salvaging. I know you don’t mind hosting them here, but pride can sting, and they’ll be wanting to be settled in their new houses soon.”

  Ashton and the others rose from the table, and Rosalind followed. They saw Lady Lennox in the hall as she was rounding up a group of children with Joanna.

  “Mother, there you are. Do you wish to look over the designs for the new houses with Rosalind and me?”

  Regina shook her head. “No, thank you, Ashton. I’m quite busy with the children. We’re taking them in one of the wagons to play in the fields. I’m sure Rosalind will have many wonderful ideas for you. Won’t you, Rosalind?” Regina sent her a knowing look, and Rosalind smiled back in understanding. It was a both a cue and a blessing to begin her seduction.

  This merry game she was playing with mother and son was more amusing than she’d thought. Neither one had a clue what the other did or did not know.

  Ashton nodded to Charles and Jonathan. “Why don’t you two head out? Rosalind is going to look over the new designs in my study, and then we shall join you.”

  Rosalind shivered as they left, but not from fear. Pretending to be attracted to someone was entirely different when one actually was attracted to the person, even if she wished she wasn’t. Whenever she and Ashton were alone, things between them intensified, and she was worried about where things would lead if he continued to stare at her the way he was right no
w. As though he wished to take a bite out of her, then kiss her.

  Chapter Ten

  Lord, I can’t let him kiss me again. I seem to lose all good sense when I do.

  Rosalind stepped back from Ashton and attempted to start a conversation.

  “It is kind of you to let the tenants stay here.” She hadn’t told him that before, but she’d wanted to.

  He stared at her intently. “I’m not a brute, Rosalind.” She had the impression he was attempting to convey something about how he intended to deal with her.

  “Are you a mind reader as well?” She kept her tone light, doing her best to tease him back. Outside of her brothers, teasing remarks had always gotten her ears soundly boxed.

  His lips twitched again. “A mind reader?”

  Rosalind had the sudden desire to see him smile more fully. “Ashton, you are far too serious. Why don’t you smile more often?”

  He curled an arm around her waist and guided her into a room on the right of the hall. She peered around curiously at the room, taking in walnut wood bookshelves brimming with everything from books containing folded maps of the world to lurid gothic novels.

  “I might be smiling in a few minutes. Now, come take a look at the plans.” His hand dropped from her waist as he rifled through the stacks of paper covering his writing table. She looked back to the filled bookshelves. She adored reading. Her mother used to say that a person’s library revealed much of who they were.

  She read the spines and paused, stifling a giggle. “Lady Mabel and the Brooding Baron?”

  Ashton leaned over his desk and glanced up. The sun lit his pale-blond hair, burnishing the strands with gold. He looked angelic, but he certainly didn’t act like an angel. Or kiss like one, for that matter. As with all things, the man was more a sinner than a saint, she was quite sure.

  “I blame Lucien. He’s been reading those stories by that awful L. R. Gloucester. I wouldn’t touch them, but Lucien wagered I couldn’t finish one. And then I admit I was rather sucked in. I am ashamed to admit I’ve devoured every book she’s written.”