Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) (5 page)

Dr. Orfila said, “That is an excellent observation, Mr. Trumbull. If you could locate the mode of the poisoning and bring it to me, then I could indeed confirm the presence of arsenic or other toxins. You will, of course, have to put the murderer in the room with this mode of poisoning along with your cousin to have a compelling case, but I have no doubt you two will find a way to do this.”

“Yes, I have no doubt, as well,” Simon said, believing for the first time that he and Rose could actually solve this mystery.

Rose was nodding in emphatic agreement. “Dr. Orfila, how long do you expect to remain in London? I assume you are able to do this type of testing here?”

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Orfila assured her. “Dr. Bell has everything I need here to do the tests, but I will only be in London for two more weeks and then I return to France.”

“France is not so terribly far away, but I rather think we should try to get you what you need while you are here in town.”

“It would be more convenient and efficient, yes.” Dr. Orfila agreed.

“Then that is what we will do,” Rose said briskly.

Simon looked at her a little askance but said nothing. Already Rose was proving to be a force to be reckoned with and he decided he would much rather be on her side than against it. Simon began to grin wickedly on the inside. It was becoming very clear to him that Caleb should be afraid…very afraid.

Standing, Simon helped Rose to her feet, before offering his hand to Dr. Orfila. “I believe we have completed our business today, then. Thank you very much for your time, Doctor.”

“I am glad to be of help, Mr. Trumbull, Miss Warren. And I look forward to hearing from you soon.”

“Thank you,” Rose replied, offering her hand to the doctor for a farewell kiss. However, Dr. Orfila shook it in the same manner as he did Simon’s.

Eyes twinkling, Dr. Orfila leaned in and said, “You must forgive me. I always shake the hands of my esteemed colleagues.”

Rose blushed to the roots of her hair, obviously pleased by the doctor’s comment. She looked at Simon with her eyes shining as he had never seen before.

And Simon was thunderstruck by her beauty.

There in the tiny, dingy room, in the company of a near stranger, Simon suddenly realized that his fiancée was quite the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A pang of desire…and something else he didn’t recognize…nearly brought Simon to his knees. If the house were to begin to fall down around them, Simon would not have been able to tear his eyes off of Rose.

Minutes—or was it hours?—later, Simon heard Dr. Orfila clear his throat loudly. “Ahem…ah, shall I see you to the door?”

Snapping out of his reverie, Simon flushed and quickly took Dr. Orfila up on his offer with a brisk nod as the three of them made their way down the narrow cramped hallway, Simon practically dragging Rose along with him.

Saying a final good-bye to the doctor, Simon and Rose exited the house. Once outside, Simon eagerly took a deep sobering breath of the crisp afternoon air and, avoiding Rose’s gaze, he escorted her quickly to the waiting carriage.

Chapter Six

I find true love usually begins with a mutual respect.

—The Duke of Lancaster

When Rose and Simon approached the carriage, giggling and murmuring could be heard from inside. Simon looked at Rose with eyebrows raised.

Rose just grimaced before saying very loudly, “I think that went well, don’t you?” She gestured to Simon to continue the conversation.

“Er, yes—” Simon began.

“Louder,” Rose whispered.

Simon was utterly confused, but decided to go along with Rose to see what would happen. “Yes,” he said again with more volume. “It went very well.”

The noises in the carriage suddenly stopped and Simon reached out to open the door to the vehicle.

“No!” Rose hissed, knocking his arm away. “Wait just a moment.”

“Why are we—” Simon began, but he was interrupted by the sound of the carriage door opening.

Rose grabbed Simon by the arm and pulled him back away from the vehicle and together they watched as Archie jumped out and—flashing Rose a sheepish grin—he turned to help a clearly mortified lady’s maid (Janice, Simon recalled briefly) down after him.

Judging by her disheveled appearance, and the fact that Janice couldn’t bring herself to look at anything other than the ground, it became very clear to Simon that he and Rose had interrupted a…er…private moment between the driver and Rose’s maid.

Chuckling, Simon turned to Rose and gave her a meaningful look. She blushed and smiled wryly. Obviously, Rose was aware of the relationship between her maid and her family’s driver.

Turning to her maid, Rose said, “Janice, perhaps you would be more comfortable riding with Archie on the way home?”

“Oh, yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss!” Janice replied, practically running around to the other side of the carriage.

Archie gave his thanks, as well, as he held the door open for his mistress. Rose nodded.

Simon helped Rose into the carriage and then swung himself up after her. He was surprised at her thoughtful handling of the situation with her maid and driver. Not because he didn’t think Rose was that kindhearted, but rather that her actions showed her to be an extremely observant and empathetic person.

Not many people would have recognized that riding with them would have been exceedingly uncomfortable for the young maid. Some people might have had the heart to forgive a servant such a lapse in judgment, but very few would go so far as to save them from further embarrassment.

Good Lord, what was happening to him? He really was turning into one of Rose’s female friends! He should not be noticing things like kindheartedness in one of the opposite sex. He should be thinking of one thing and one thing only. He was never going to be a grand rake if this kept up. He groaned and shook his head woefully.

“Simon!” Rose said. “Whatever is the matter?” She shifted to the other side of the carriage so that she was now seated next to him.

Turning to face her, Simon realized just how close they were—the inside of a carriage is not really that big, after all—and Rose was pressed up against him and looking at him with her large eyes filled with concern. And he found that all he wanted to do was…kiss her.

By all that was holy, Simon wanted nothing more than to lower his head and capture her full red lips with his and kiss the living daylights out of her. Even as his head was moving, bringing him mere inches from his goal, Simon wondered at the wisdom of his actions, but honestly he didn’t think he could stop even if the hounds of hell suddenly appeared before them.

Simon pressed his lips softly to hers. He slowly brushed his mouth back and forth as if testing the taste and texture and then, finding it to his liking, he deepened the kiss. He felt a moment of protest from Rose and he prepared himself to be pushed away, but then—amazingly—she pressed herself more closely to his warm chest and encircled his shoulders with her slender arms.

Letting out a soft groan of appreciation, Simon wrapped his arms equally tight around Rose’s soft feminine body and tenderly coaxed her lips apart with his tongue so that he might explore her honeyed mouth more thoroughly.

Dragging his mouth free of hers, Simon shifted his attentions to Rose’s long and slender neck.

As he peppered the sensitive skin he found there with tiny nibbling kisses, Rose sighed. “Oh Simon…” and she arched her neck, giving him even more access.

Chuckling softly, Simon found he rather liked turning this little bookworm into a purring kitten as he continued his torturous path down her neck to the curve of her shoulders. Perhaps he would spend more time in the marriage bed than he originally thought.

…

At the sound of his laughter, Rose stiffened and tried to push Simon off of her. “Stop, please!” she moaned.

Simon didn’t appear to hear her as he continued his sensual onslaught.

Why had he laughed? What had she done wrong? Did he find her inexperience amusing? What kind of fool was she to think he might care about her a little? He was a complete rake, she knew. Women, gambling, absolute notoriety. Who knows how many women he had seduced with his charm and charisma? Why not add her to his list? She was his fiancée after all, she thought scornfully.

Burning with humiliation, Rose gave Simon one last shove before moving to her original position in the carriage across from him. She willed herself not to cry as she focused on the houses passing by outside. She noted absently they were almost home already.

Rose hazarded a look at Simon. For some reason she hadn’t really expected him to let her go without a word, but there he was…just sitting there with a rather astonished look on his face.

Rose was so alarmed by the look, she almost broke her self-imposed silence to ask again if he was all right, but she was saved from having to say anything when the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her house and Simon flung open the door and jumped out.

Easing her way to the opening, Rose watched as Simon paced back and forth on the sidewalk muttering to himself. She was quickly learning that pacing was how he handled stressful situations and if the speed of the pacing was any indication, he was especially tense at the moment.

What does he have to be anxious about? Rose thought churlishly. She was the one who had been so ill-treated, not him.

“Hmph!” Rose huffed, as Archie helped her down from the vehicle. Now Simon couldn’t even be bothered to assist her himself. Drat that man! Not bothering to acknowledge Simon, Rose swept past him on her way to her door. She had just made it to the porch when she heard him call to her.

Rose had half a mind to just ignore the man, but good breeding—and a fair dose of curiosity—got the better of her. So she turned around, crossed her arms, and stared stonily at him.

When he finally stopped in front of her, Simon sighed and said, “Rose, I know you don’t want to hear my apologies, so I won’t say I’m sorry. And the truth is I’m not sure if I am sorry about kissing you—to be honest I am not particularly sure about anything right now, and as I seem to be having trouble thinking around you at the moment, I am going to go…away…now. So, er, good afternoon.”

With that Simon picked up her hand for a brief kiss and then…he was gone.

Well, gone was probably a bit of a stretch as he was actually heading in the direction of her stables, but from her perspective, Simon had left her presence and Rose felt perfectly justified in dramatizing his exit. It had been a peculiar day, after all.

First she had been complimented by Dr. Orfila and then she experienced her first kiss…with Simon, someone who clearly was as confused by the last few days as she.

“Dr. Orfila!” Rose exclaimed. In all the turmoil of the afternoon, she had almost forgotten their visit with the doctor. And she and Simon had not even planned their next steps. Now what? With the doctor only in town for two weeks, time was of the essence.

Rose was going to have to take matters into her own hands again. Simon wouldn’t like that, but really, what choice did she have?

Mind made up, Rose hurried upstairs to her writing desk and penned an invitation. In order to figure out how and when Caleb poisoned Frederick, she was going to need to get all the correct players in a room. Maybe together, she and the other partygoers could recreate the events of the evening and somehow determine Caleb’s opportune moment for the poisoning.

And perhaps, in addition to the small number of dinner party invitations, she would be wise to include a separate note to Simon informing him of her intent. Maybe some advance notice would go a long way in soothing any feathers she may be ruffling by executing a plan without him.

Nodding to herself, Rose metaphorically rolled up her sleeves and went to work.

Chapter Seven

A loving heart is the beginning of an open mind, and vice versa.

—The Duke of Lancaster

Two days later, Rose was brushing her hands nervously down the front of her dress, waiting for someone to answer the door of the Trumbull house.

She had not seen or spoken to Simon since their ill-fated carriage ride home after visiting Dr. Orfila, but she had received a reply to her hastily penned note explaining her dinner party invitation. Simon agreed that it was a good idea (much to her relief), but he did make the suggestion that they hold the party at his parents’ home rather than at hers.

No more needed to be said than that, really, as Rose was painfully aware that her house was not particularly conducive to a party. There was too much furniture and not enough space for any more than the smallest handful of people.

On the rare occasions when her parents did host a party or ball, Rose and the servants made sure to clear out the appropriate space needed, but on such short notice, Rose—and apparently Simon—knew they would not be able to do so to any measure of success in time for the event.

As Rose was sending out the amended invitations—to alert the guests of the change of venue—it occurred to her that she was not particularly surprised by Simon’s foresight and consideration. In fact, it was her lack of surprise that she found the most startling.

Quite frankly, the last few days had opened her eyes to the hidden depths of her betrothed. She vaguely remembered that he had been an intelligent and intuitive child, but in the latter years his devil-may-care attitude had overwhelmed that recollection.

Not that intelligence meant he was any more honorable toward women (much less her), but she was pleased to see this other—more mature—side of Simon and she wondered if she had anything to do with it. She rather hoped she did. Certainly he had caused more than a few changes in her.

For the last two days, her mind had been full of Simon Trumbull. She had replayed the events in the carriage in her head so many times she was sure she could recite everything that had been said word for word.

Sometimes she found her ability to recall the most minute of details a curse, but in this case she thought perhaps it was a blessing. For in hindsight, despite her initial reaction, Rose began to think that perhaps Simon hadn’t been laughing at her, per se, but was rather enjoying her…er, enthusiastic responses to him.

It certainly made more sense, given the way he had looked at her a few times earlier in the day. Truthfully, considering the glances, the kiss, and even their last dance together, Rose was beginning to suspect Simon was not as inured to her as she once thought. It was rather unbelievable, that. But now she needed to be even more careful. She was not a light skirt to be seduced, despite her unexpected response to Simon’s advances. Frankly, her behavior astounded her. She should have been outraged, but instead she found she had just wanted more. One would think she had feelings for the man. How unwise would that be?

So, after all of her examination and theorizing, Rose decided her fanciful hypothesis should remain as such for now and she should just carry on with her mission. Surely, if she and Simon continued to spend time together over the next few weeks, the mystery of his feelings for her—and indeed her feelings for him—would work itself out.

However, having decided on a course of action with Simon did not make seeing him again any less nerve-wracking, and Rose truly hoped she would be able to remain focused on their task for the evening, knowing he would be so nearby.

As the door opened, Rose mentally reviewed her appearance: fashionable blue dress that set off her red hair becomingly, the same upswept hairstyle that Simon had noticed at the Sunderland ball, and pretty little slippers that exactly matched the blue of her dress and were adorned with jeweled clips that she couldn’t actually see sparkling beneath the hem of her long gown, but made her smile nonetheless.

Rose handed her pelisse and reticule to the Trumbull’s butler.

“Mr. Trumbull is in the Great Room, Miss.”

“Thank you, Millar,” Rose replied politely, dismissing him with a nod of her head.

Most of the Trumbulls’ servants already treated her as one of the family, giving her—in all practicality—free reign of the house. Simon was afforded the same freedoms in the Warren household, as well. There is something to be said for being promised to one another so young, Rose thought as she made her way to the Great Room unaccompanied.

Rose stopped just outside of the room’s doorway. In mere moments she would be face to face with Simon. She almost wished she could have made a fashionably late entrance after everyone was already there, but as the hostess of the affair, etiquette dictated that she arrive early enough to greet their guests—even if that meant leaving her alone with the host until the guests arrived.

Taking a deep breath, Rose walked into the room in what she hoped was a regal manner and found her gaze inexorably drawn to Simon. He was standing by the large fireplace at the end of the room, holding a brandy snifter and staring thoughtfully into the flames.

Rose felt her breath catch in her chest and her heart started to beat double-time. She seemed frozen in place, completely unable to look away from him.

…

Simon felt a shift in the atmosphere around him and he knew, as well as he knew his own name, that when he looked up he would see Rose standing there. Slowly he turned his head and met her gaze.

She was wearing her hair the same way she had at the ball a couple of weeks earlier. He wondered if she had done it on purpose because he had commented on it that night. He shook his head weakly. Surely only he had the events of that night etched into his memory; Rose would never be so foolish.

Pulled to her by an unexplainable magnetism, Simon found himself in front of Rose. He bowed gallantly and kissed her hand, all the while holding her gaze. He felt as if he were drowning in her very presence. Everything around him faded to cloudy nothingness and all he could see—all he wanted to see—was Rose.

Ugh, Simon thought with disgust. This will not do. While Rose was proving to have charms beyond his initial beliefs, he did not want to forget what she meant in his life. She was his future fetters, his unwanted responsibility, the end of his freedom.

“Hello Simon,” Rose whispered, looking up at him over the rim of her glasses and through the fringe of her thick dark lashes.

Simon felt the sweet passion of her gaze all the way to the tips of his toes and something tightened in his loins. The urge to sweep her into his arms and off to the nearest bedroom was overwhelming and it took everything in him to release her hand and to step carefully away from her intoxicating presence. This was not good.

A second later, much to Simon’s relief, Millar appeared to announce the arrival of David Rochester and Alexander Bredon, Simon’s best friends. David was Hannah Rochester’s older brother and Alexander was William Bredon’s younger brother. With the betrothal of Hannah and William, the two were on the verge of becoming brothers-in-law and they were even more inseparable than ever.

Before the butler had even finished speaking, the two young gentlemen bounded into the room exuberantly. Alexander slung his arm around Simon’s shoulder jauntily and turned to greet Rose. “Rose Warren…as I live and breathe. How are you this evening?”

He bent to give her the prerequisite kiss on the hand, but before he could complete the task he found himself being shoved out of the way by David, who grabbed her hand away and proceeded to give her quite the buss on the knuckles.

“Ah, my fair Rose, how I have longed to see you!” David enthused, giving her a lewd wink.

“Hey, I saw her first,” Alexander insisted, attempting to push David aside while reaching for her hand again to finish his interrupted greeting.

“I beg to differ, my good man,” David replied, not giving his friend an inch.

“You will be begging for mercy if you don’t move.”

“Begging whom? Certainly not you, I’m sure.”

“Oh, really? I do believe that is a challenge.”

“It is your prerogative to take it as such,” David allowed grandly.

“Why, thank you,” Alexander returned with affected politeness. “I believe I shall.”

Rose, who was trapped in the middle of the farcical conversation, burst out laughing. Both men looked at each other, apparently affronted by her laughter.

“I do believe our affections are not returned by the lady, Mr. Rochester,” Alexander intoned imperiously.

“I concur completely, Mr. Bredon,” David agreed with a haughty sniff. “Perhaps we should call a truce and depart from her company forthwith.”

“A splendid notion, my friend,” Alexander replied, bowing. David returned the bow and the two wandered off in the direction of the bar, which had been set up in one corner of the room.

Watching the two men walk away, Simon muttered, “I cannot believe I name those idiots among my friends.”

That made Rose giggle all the more and she laid a hand on Simon’s arm, as if needing his support to remain upright.

Simon glanced down at the hand and then up into Rose’s amusement-filled eyes and suddenly he found himself smiling, too. “They really are idiots, you know,” he said drily, but there was a certain fondness in his tone.

“Yes, but very charming ones,” Rose allowed with an endearing smile.

“I suppose,” Simon replied, as he looked over at his two best friends, who were apparently now arguing at the appropriate amount of brandy to be poured into their glasses.

Under normal circumstances, he would be over there joining in their ridiculous debate, but for some reason the trivial mocking of each other and those around them seemed juvenile and silly.

Is that how he appeared to people, as well?

All this time, he and his friends were quite sure they were thought of as charming and amusing by the ladies of the ton and, according to Rose, Alexander and David’s behavior just now was charming and clearly amusing, but suddenly Simon realized that in their attempts to be what they considered charismatic and witty rakes, they ended up looking like idiots—charming and amusing idiots, to be sure, but idiots nonetheless.

When Simon had decided, at the wise old age of ten, to rebel against his parents’ plans for him, it was not with the intention of becoming an idiot. He wanted to be his own person—his own man—but he was quickly coming to realize that was not what he had become at all.

So the question remained: Now what?