How to Capture a Countess (Duchess Diaries 1) (24 page)

Aunt Margaret picked up her extra ribbons. “Now, my dear, if you’ll excuse me, I need to see to our luncheon. If you’re not going to join us, why don’t you take a nap instead? Maybe that will improve your disposition.” She sailed off, beribboned pugs snuffling along in her wake.

One ribbon remained on the floor and Sin absently picked it up. It was a silky cornflower blue, the exact color of Rose’s eyes.

He curled his hand about it and, with a muffled curse, spun on his heel and left.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
The battle lines are drawn, and the enemy is surging at the gates. But Charlotte and I have girded our little warrior princess for battle.

God knows what Sin has planned, for he’s as moody and unpredictable as the sea, but the real battle is about to begin.

Rose stood before the mirror in her room, her breath held as she ran her hand over the soft blue round dress of India muslin. The gown was embroidered along the bottom with superb needlework depicting flowers of soft green and lilac. Small rosettes of matching colors adorned the lace at the neckline. “Oh, Annie, it’s gorgeous.”

At Rose’s feet, Teenie wagged his silver-tipped tail. The little brown pug had followed Annie into the room when she’d come in carrying the armful of gowns that the duchess had sent to Rose, begging her to make use of them.

Rose hadn’t wished to, but Annie had been insistent and now, wearing the prettiest of them, Rose couldn’t help but be glad. None of her gowns were nearly so finely made.

Annie walked slowly around Rose, stepping over the dog. Head tilted to one side, she pursed her lips and nodded her head. “Och, ’tis weel enou’.”

“Well enough? Annie, it’s perfect!”

Annie chuckled. “I tol’ ye tha’ if we’d but take off a flounce or two and add a wee tuck at the sleeve, ’twould fit ye as if made fer ye.”

Teenie wagged his tail in approval.

Rose smiled at him. “Annie is very good with her needle, isn’t she?”

Teenie’s tail couldn’t wag harder, so he placed his chin on Rose’s slipper and beamed up at her.

She laughed. “We must get you back to the duchess. She’ll be worried.”

“Och, no, miss. He wanders off all o’ the time and her grace ne’er notices.”

“I’m glad. I’d hate to give her grace more cause for alarm.” Rose regarded the gown in the mirror, unable to believe that she was the woman wearing it. The gown made her look feminine and sophisticated, neither being words she would normally use to describe herself. She wondered if Sin would think it made her look different—

You must stop that.
For the last five days, she’d done nothing but wonder what Sin would think of this or that,
of how he’d mock the Misses Stewart for their belief in séances, of the way he’d look disgusted at one of Mr. Munro’s obviously false tales of his past prowess in the hunting field, and at the way the vicar hid cards while playing whist when he thought no one was looking.

She couldn’t seem to stop wondering about Sin’s reactions to every moment of her day. Though she had been the one to decide to avoid Sin, not having him to share smiles with left her feeling deeply bereft, further testament to how fast she was falling under his spell.

It was sad evidence of her state of mind, and proof that the duchess was right about the danger of continuing their fascinating flirtation. She sighed, then squared her shoulders—what had to be, had to be. She’d always be glad that she’d found the duchess in the library after leaving Sin that day.

Rose had been so upset that she’d needed a cooler, calmer head to show her the way things had to be. Not that she regretted any of it; she would never regret anything that had happened between her and Sin. At least, not if she stopped things now.

Rose couldn’t remember much of the conversation, for she’d been too embarrassed at being caught weeping. But one thing the duchess said had stuck in her head: “I do hope that you and Sin won’t repeat the same mistakes that led to such a distressful situation in London. It was very difficult for Sin. More than he lets on.” Concern had darkened the duchess’s gaze. “I couldn’t bear for him to go through that again.”

Rose’s heart had ached at the words and she realized that the duchess was right; she and Sin were dangerously close to causing another public scene. What was it about the two of them that made them push each other into more and more outrageous behavior every time they were together?

Whatever it was, it was time for it to stop. Though it had cost Rose far more than she’d expected it to, she’d made certain that she and Sin were never alone again.

Rose caught Annie’s curious gaze in the mirror and realized that she’d been lost in her own thoughts far too long. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking of . . . all sorts of things.” She forced a smile. “The gowns that the Duchess has given me are very finely made. My sister Lily would be in raptures.”

“If she’s like me own sister, ye’ll ha’ to take care tha’ she dinna steal them once ye return home.” Annie stood back and eyed the gown a bit more. “’Tis guid that her grace is no’ one to follow fashion, but instead finds gowns as fit her figure.”

Surprised, Rose blinked. “This isn’t the newest fashion?”

“Nay, miss. The gowns ye see the Misses Stewart wear are the newest fashion. This design would ha’ been three, mayhap four years ago. But her grace makes her
own
way and when she sees somethin’ she likes, she’s no’ shy about keepin’ it.”

“She’s a very intelligent woman.”

“Ye ha’ no idea. Ye’re fortunate that ye’re close in
size. She’s a mite taller than ye but jus’ as thin, so ’tis a guid fit.”

“It’s beautiful, but . . . why would the duchess give all of these to me?”

“I’m sure she’s makin’ room fer new ones. Her grace’s maid, Mrs. Dennis, was told to clean oot the wardrobe and give ye the gowns that are ne’er worn, and tha’ is what Mrs. Dennis did. The duchess also said to tell ye tha’ if ye dinna wish t’ keep the gowns, they go into the rag bin.”

Rose gasped. “She wouldn’t.”

“’Tis what her grace ordered.”

“But couldn’t someone else wear them? Some of the other maids, perhaps?”

“Och, miss, there are no’ maids at Floors thin enou’ to wear these.” Annie grinned and patted her own girth. “We eat far too well belowstairs fer tha’. Rest assured tha’ her grace willna give away anythin’ she dinna wish to give. She’s a canny one, she is. Usually, when she gives ye somethin’, ye can bet there’s a re—” Annie paused, her brow lowering.

“What is it?”

Annie just looked thoughtfully at Rose.

Rose waited. “Yes?”

She shrugged. “I canno’ remember. All of the excitement o’ the dresses and then— Teenie, stop licking the miss’s shoes!”

Rose looked down and found the pug licking the edge of her slipper. At Annie’s soft admonition, he
stopped and looked up at her in the most adorable way. “You silly dog.” She bent and scratched his chin.

“He’s a mess, he is. I’ll go fetch yer shawl.” Annie crossed to the wardrobe and returned carrying a rose-colored cashmere shawl.

Rose took it, chuckling when Teenie tried to bite it as it swept past. As she lifted the shawl out of his reach, she caught sight of the clock. “Oh dear. I must go now.”

“Nay, we’ve still an hour before dinner.”

“I know, but I told Miss Isobel that I’d seen a book in the library that she expressly wished to read.”
And if I don’t go now, while I know Sin is dressing for dinner, I might not be able to fetch the book until tomorrow.

Annie eyed the stack of books by Rose’s bed. “Does she read as much as ye do, miss?”

“I don’t know, but Lord Cameron recommended this book at lunch today, so she’s in a tizzy to read it. If I fetch it now, I can take it to dinner with me and give it to her there.”

“Very good, miss. I’ll start hemming yer other gowns. When I’m done with them, ye’re goin’ to look like a princess.”

Rose laughed. “I fear it will take more than a gown to do that, but thank you.” She bid the maid good-bye and then went to the door. The little pug rousted himself, stretched, and then ambled out with her.

As she closed the door, Teenie continued down the hallway and around a corner, leaving Rose alone.

“Well,” Rose said to the empty hallway. “Good-bye
to you, too!” With a rueful shake of her head, she made her way to the library.

•  •  •

Rose looked up at the rows of shelves, trying to remember where she’d seen the book Lord Cameron had mentioned.
“A Study of Roman Battles,”
she murmured to herself. “Where did I see that title?”

She crossed to the ladder and, bracing herself against it, rolled it to the place she thought she might have seen the book. Then, her skirt carefully lifted so she wouldn’t step on the hem and rip it, she climbed the ladder. When she reached midway, she stopped and began searching the shelves.

After a moment, she sighed.
I don’t see it.
She hooked her arm through the ladder and looked around, her gaze examining each shelf.
Perhaps it’s by the windows, where I found the book about the rivers of Africa.
She climbed down and tugged the ladder toward the windows. It slid along until she was almost there, then just stopped.

She looked up at the shelves, expecting to see a book had fallen down and was blocking the way, but she could see nothing to keep the ladder from moving. Sighing, she gathered her skirts and climbed up to the very top. Once there, she looked at the wheels that rolled the ladder about the room on the narrow railing, but they, too, seemed fine.

Well, there was nothing for it. She’d have to try to jar the ladder into moving. As she started to descend,
her gaze fell on a row of books a shelf over. There, in the center, was the book she’d been looking for.

She hooked her arm about the side of the ladder, and leaned as far as she could. Her fingers brushed the book, but try as she would, she could reach no farther.
Blast it!

Her gaze narrowed. If she moved to the outer side of the ladder and hooked her leg about the side rail, then she could lean out and get the book.

She hooked her arm around a rung and then, with a little hop, hooked her leg around the rail until she had a foot on each side. The position felt far more precarious than she’d expected, and the ladder felt as if it were tilting to one side.

She cautiously leaned toward the shelf and to her relief easily grabbed the book. “Now I have you!”

Glowing with triumph, she turned to right herself on the ladder. She was almost there when a loud pop broke the silence and the ladder lurched to one side, hanging from the railing by only one wheel.

Rose clung frantically as the ladder dangled like a drunken sailor.

“Oh no!” She glanced at the open door. “Help!” she called. “MacDougal! Anyone! Please!”

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
My mother was a great woman. It was she and not Father who ran our household. It was she who tucked us into our bed at night. She selected our governesses, oversaw our wardrobes, and disciplined us for bad behaviors. She also encouraged our efforts, and gave praise only when it was due so as not to cheapen it.

My mother also gave me the best piece of advice I’ve ever received, advice so brilliant that I had it engraved on a locket.

“Margaret,” she told me time and again, “you may be anything you wish, so long as you’re never boring.”

It took me almost thirty years to figure out what she meant, but I finally did.

I will never be boring.

After talking to Aunt Margaret, Sin had taken a very long ride, at first too furious to think. But eventually,
he was able to consider all that she’d said. It was then that he discovered a very shocking fact: his desire to be repaid for his humiliations from that night long ago had been replaced with a bigger, more complex desire. He wanted Rose Balfour.

He didn’t want her “because of,” or “in order to,” or for any other reason than the fact that there was something about this stubborn slip of a woman that set him afire. She challenged him as no other woman ever had.

He’d be a fool not to enjoy her while he was here; they were both adults and there was nothing stopping their mutual pleasure. When their time here came to an end, as it inevitably would, then they’d leave each other with no more regrets.

Somehow, Aunt Margaret had taken that idyllic concept and twisted it about. Of course they had to be circumspect, but not all sensual pleasures resulted in ruin. If that were true, no one in the
ton
would still have an intact reputation.

He and Rose were adults and could take care that they weren’t discovered. All he had to do was explain this to Rose.

It was time to take back the reins of their relationship. Voicing a protest about Rose’s avoidance would be tacitly allowing her to win her point, but he was willing to accept a small defeat in exchange for a more sensual kind of victory.

He reached the empty hallway outside the sitting
room and paused to adjust his cuffs. Perhaps he would have a glass of port while wait—

“Help!” Rose cried. Sin was in the library before he had time to think. She was hanging precariously from the side of the ladder while it slowly rocked back and forth, one lone wheel holding it in place. At any moment, either the ladder or Rose or both could come tumbling down.

He’d just reached her when the ladder gave a loud
crack
and the wheel popped off the railing. As the ladder went tumbling to the rug below, Sin caught Rose.

She buried her face in his neck and held on to him as if her life depended on it. Her eyes were squinched closed, her thick lashes crescents on her cheeks, and she held a book against her as if releasing it would send her tumbling anew.

“Rose?”

She slowly opened her eyes and blinked. “I’m not dead?”

“Not yet, although I am beginning to think that ladder is cursed where you are concerned.”

Rose gave a shaky laugh and it was all Sin could do not to hug her tightly.

She gave him a rueful look. “It’s not the ladder; it’s just me. I wanted to get this book but the ladder wouldn’t roll, so I climbed to the outer edge and when I leaned in to get the book . . . You know the rest.”