Snowbound With the Notorious Rake (17 page)

Magnus patted her arm.

‘You have nothing to fear, my dear, but whatever the shame, I will not allow you to marry this villain.’

Tight jawed, Lawrence shook his head.

‘Rose, do not believe this. I swear I have not laid a hand on her or any woman since I met you.’

She tried to make herself think, but the high, joyous singing that had been resonating through her since they had come back into the ballroom was changed to an anguished scream inside her head. Hot tears burned her eyes, but she was too proud to let them fall. When Lawrence reached out for her, she backed away.

‘Rose—it’s a lie, I tell you!’

‘Do not listen to him,’ Magnus urged her. ‘He is a libertine, a rogue, not to be trusted.’ He raised his voice to address his servants. ‘Escort Sir Lawrence from the premises.’

Lawrence gave a snarl of warning and the lackeys stopped, hovering uncertainly at his shoulder.

‘Should you not be calling me out, Emsleigh? We could settle this at dawn with swords or pistols, whatever you chose.’

‘Yes, that is the way of your sort, is it not?’ Magnus curled his lip. ‘That may be the custom in town, sir, but not here! Your name is disgraced here, sir, disgraced. You should quit Exmoor.’

‘Not until I have proved you deliberately sank the
Sealark
to claim the insurance.’ Magnus laughed.

‘Do you think anyone will help you after this? Captain Morris, assist my men to eject this, this
scoundrel
!’

Rose watched, transfixed, as the captain stepped up. Lawrence stiffened, his hands clenching into fists.

‘Come, sir,’ barked the captain, ‘you cannot start a brawl in a gentleman’s house.’

Lawrence hesitated, then turned to look at Rose. He was very pale and a muscle was working his cheek.

‘Rose,’ he said urgently, ‘we must talk. You must let me explain—’

With a shudder she fluttered her hand in a small gesture of dismissal. Nothing made sense. The evening had taken on a nightmarish quality. She felt used, betrayed. The servants and Captain Morris stepped closer to Lawrence, but he put up his hand.

‘Very well, I will leave—for now.’ With a final, blazing look at Rose he turned on his heel and strode out of
the ballroom, the crowd hastily stepping back to clear a path to the door.

‘Rose?’

Her mother’s gentle hand was upon her arm. Magnus was escorting his sobbing sister from the room and Rose was aware of the eyes of the crowd turning upon her. Pride came to her aid. Her chin went up. Lawrence had gone and she wanted to throw herself into the soft, comforting warmth of her mother’s embrace, but that must wait. She summoned every ounce of will to force out a few quiet words.

‘Take me home, Mama.’

R
ose lay in her bed and watched the pinky-grey light of dawn creep into her tiny room. She had slept very little and cried even less, the pain in her heart too deep for tears. All night she had replayed the scene at Emsleigh House, trying to find some crumb of comfort, but there was none. Lawrence had not come to Knightscote for her sake; he had been investigating the sinking of the
Sealark
.

It did not explain his kindness to Sam, unless he thought to ingratiate himself with her and provide himself with a little amusement while he carried out his enquiries. If so, it had worked only too well; Rose had abandoned caution and thrown herself into his arms, prepared to count the world well lost. And it was. Her recklessness at Emsleigh House had cost her dear.

Her conscience had troubled her after those precious, snowbound days at Knightscote, but she had salved it by telling herself it had been an aberration caused by
the exceptional circumstances. A chance meeting, a moment’s happiness before they went their separate ways, never to meet again. Even so she had postponed her wedding for twelve months, unable to face marriage to another man while Lawrence’s image was so fresh in her mind. Now she knew she could never marry Magnus Emsleigh, because despite her best intentions, for the second time in her life she had lost her heart to a rake—and how quickly, how cruelly she had been disillusioned.

Althea’s outburst had been shocking and it
must
be true; Rose knew only too well Lawrence’s impetuous nature—had he not accosted her outside the Ship after the Mersecombe Assembly? To say nothing of their passionate union last night. She had given herself to him, freely, lovingly, and she had been so sure he loved her in return, but she knew now that could not be true. With a groan she turned over and buried her face in her pillow. While her mind might dismiss Sir Lawrence Daunton as a rake and a libertine, her body still ached at the memory of his caresses. She did not know how she would survive without them.

But of course she would survive. She had Sam to think of, and her mother. She must go on, for their sake. Thus, when Janet brought her hot water, Rose dragged herself from her bed and forced herself into her clothes.

Her mother and Sam were already at the breakfast table, and Rose was thankful that, apart from subjecting her to a searching look, Mrs Molland made no men
tion of the events at Emsleigh House. After the morning pleasantries had been exchanged, Mrs Molland said brightly, ‘Evans has hired the gig from Farmer Ansell and is driving me to Minehead today; there are several purchases I must make. Perhaps, Rose, you would like to come with me? You need do nothing but enjoy yourself—it would be purely a pleasure trip for you.’

Pleasure? Rose thought she would never know pleasure again. She shook her head.

‘Thank you, Mama, but no. Mrs Reed has asked me to write down my observations upon how the school should be run. However, since there are no classes to day, perhaps Sam might like to go with you…’

‘No, no, Mama.’ This was accompanied by a vigorous shaking of the head. ‘You cannot have forgotten that once I have done my chores I am going to Woolers Farm to see Jem.’

Rose looked out of the window; there had been a light snowfall during the night, dusting everything with white, and the walls and roofs sparkled invitingly in the winter sunshine. A brisk walk might clear her head and help to shift the depression that enveloped her.

‘Perhaps I shall come with you. I can postpone my writing for an hour or so.’

‘An excellent idea,’ agreed Mrs Molland. ‘It is too lovely a day to stay indoors. And you can take with you the little note I have written for old Mrs Wooler. She suffers dreadfully in the winter months and I promised I would let her have the recipe for a tonic.’ She rose from her chair as a movement outside the window caught her
eye. ‘Here is Evans now with the gig. Be good for your mama, Sam, and I shall bring you back a little present. Rose, is there anything I can get you?’

‘Nothing, thank you, but I will walk with you to the gate and see you off.’

The two women went arm in arm out of the room and as they walked to the gig Mrs Molland cleared her throat.

‘If you are writing up notes for Mrs Reed, does that mean you still intend to marry Magnus?’ Her grip on Rose’s arm tightened. ‘You have no need to tell me that your affections are not engaged. Indeed, after last night I should think everyone—’

‘Mama!’

She heeded the warning note in Rose’s voice and said merely, ‘So, are you going to cry off?’

‘I think I must.’ Rose bit her lip. ‘Was…was it very apparent that—that Sir Lawrence and I had…formed an attachment?’

‘Crystal clear,’ replied Mrs Molland frankly. ‘The only comfort is that his treatment of Althea Emsleigh has proved him to be a complete rogue and everyone will regard you with sympathy.’

Rose winced. Her mother patted her arm.

‘You do not have to decide about your marriage immediately. When he took his leave of us last night, Magnus was most attentive. I do not believe he wishes to end your engagement. You must consider Sam’s future as well, you know.’

‘I do know it,’ replied Rose, sighing. ‘But whatever Magnus and I decide, I cannot continue at the school. I
shall send a note to Mrs Reed today, explaining that I shall not be taking any more classes. Perhaps it would be best if I left Mersecombe.’

They had reached the gate and stopped for a moment.

‘Consider carefully, my dear,’ murmured Mrs Molland. ‘You have many years ahead of you.’

Giving Rose a quick hug, she climbed up into the gig and Evans set off down the lane at a smart pace. Rose watched them go. The dark cloud descended even deeper into her soul. She wanted to do nothing except return to her bed, but that was impossible. She must find something to occupy her.

Indoors, Sam was helping Janet to clear the breakfast table, after which he would fill up the log basket in the sitting room. Small tasks, but Rose had insisted that he help out a little in the house and, since becoming friends with Jem and seeing how hard he had to work on the farm, Sam was keen to show that he, too, had a role to play.

Knowing it would be some little while yet before Sam was ready to go out, Rose carried her pens and paper to the little table in the sitting room. She must write letters to the vicar and to Mrs Reed, explaining that she would no longer be teaching at the school. After that, if there was time, she would make a start upon her notes. The letters were quickly dashed off, but when she pulled a clean sheet of paper towards her to write her notes the words would not come. Her mind kept wandering back to the ball.

She felt quite sick when she thought of Lawrence’s betrayal—to be investigating Magnus was bad enough,
but even that she could have borne, if he had not lied to her about Althea. She had begun to believe that he really had altered, that he was not the libertine she had thought him. Althea’s announcement had shown her that her initial conviction had been true. A rake could not change his nature.

The faint sound of knocking at the front door brought her out of her reverie. A familiar deep voice sounded from the hall. With growing dismay she recognised the swift, booted tread outside the door. How foolish of her not to instruct Janet to deny him. Now it was too late to do anything other than rise from the table and school her features into a look of stony indifference.

Lawrence entered the little parlour and stopped just inside the door. The coldness of his reception was al most physical. It hit him like a blast of icy air. Rose stood on the opposite side of the room, rigidly aloof.

‘I had to come,’ he began. ‘We need to talk—’

‘There is nothing to be said. Please leave.’ Her cold stare was fixed somewhere over his shoulder, her voice as hard as stone. He took a step towards her.

‘Rose, please listen to me, I can expl—’

‘Oh?’ She curled her lip, the words dripping from her tongue like icy water. ‘Will you deny that you came here to spy upon us?’

‘Not upon you—never upon you!’

She continued as if he had not spoken.

‘You sought to put the blame for the loss of the
Sealark
upon Magnus.’

‘I did not
seek
to put the blame upon anyone. I merely came here looking for the truth.’

‘You have the…the
gall
to talk of truth!’

‘I never deceived you!’

‘You deceived us all! If I had known you suspected Magnus—’

‘You would never have let me near you,’ he finished for her.

‘What a blessing that would have been!’

‘Not for me. I have been living for the moment I would see you again.’

‘Do not say that!’ She dashed a hand across her eyes. ‘I will hear no more of your lies.’

‘I have never lied to you, Rose.’ He stopped and shook his head. He said slowly, ‘Perhaps I did lie, by omission. But if you had asked me, I would have told you I was investigating the
Sealark
.’ Lawrence moved a little closer. ‘That was not my only reason for coming to Mersecombe.’

‘Oh, of course. You wanted a pointer puppy.’

He smiled slightly.

‘Puppy be damned. I wanted to see you.’

She ignored that.

‘And was Althea Emsleigh one of your
lies by omission
?’

The smile disappeared. He said quietly, ‘That is not
my
lie. I have danced with Althea Emsleigh, but nothing more, I give you my word.’

She threw up her hand.

‘Do not perjure yourself any further. I wish you would go now.’

She glared at him, full of righteous indignation. She was less than two strides away—Lawrence wanted to
cross the space between them and take her in his arms, melting her icy rage with a passionate kiss. But something held him back, a thread as fine as silk, yet stronger than any chain: the fear that she would reject him.

Her eyes were dark and hard as slate, but he read in their depths such pain and rage that it cut like a knife. Unbidden, words rose to his lips. He said simply, ‘I love you, Rose.’

She glared at him.

‘How dare you talk to me of love?’ Her voice shook with fury. ‘I w-was silly enough to think— What a
fool
I have been!’ She took a long, ragged breath, then said coldly, ‘Enough of this. You will go now and never come here again.’

She fixed him with a look of such implacable loathing that further argument died on his lips.

‘Very well,’ he said at last, ‘I will leave now, but whatever you think of me, Rose, you must not marry Emsleigh.’

‘What we did last night has made it impossible for me to do so!’ she flashed. Her spirits sagged. ‘I have proved myself as false as you. I am ashamed.’

‘You should not be. We cannot help our feelings for each other, Rose.’

‘But what of Magnus? He deserves better—’

‘No. He is not the upright gentleman he seems. He sank the
Sealark
—I have a witness who is prepared to tell the truth about that—’

Rose put her hands to her ears. ‘Stop it! I will not listen to this. If
you
will not go away, then
I
shall—’

She went to run past him, but he grabbed her arm.

‘You will listen to me, madam, or by God I will—’

‘You will what?’ She confronted him, brows raised, eyes stormy, challenging. ‘You will beat me into submission? It would not be the first time I have suffered a man’s blows.’

She had not meant to say that—Rose had never admitted it to anyone before and she berated herself as she saw the shock in his face.

‘I am not such a monster.’ The angry light faded from his eyes and she looked away, unwilling to bear his sympathy. ‘Rose—’

‘Sir Lawrence, Sir Lawrence, I saw your horse outside…’

They jumped apart as Sam burst into the room, his innocent face glowing with delight. He skidded to a halt before Lawrence, snatched off his cap and sketched a bow.

‘Good day to you, sir. Mama and I are about walk to Woolers Farm—would you like to go with us?’

‘Sam, you should not—’

Rose tried to protest, but she was shaking too much to do more than murmur her remonstrance. Lawrence was faster to regain control.

‘Alas, Sam, I am bound in the opposite direction.’

Rose said pointedly, ‘Sir Lawrence is just leaving.’

Sam’s face fell and Lawrence added quickly, ‘My business may take some time. I should go now if I am to get back to Knightscote before dark.’

‘Is that why you have a lantern strapped to your saddle, so you can find your way home?’ asked Sam, wide-eyed.

Lawrence managed a smile and reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair.

‘No, you scapegrace, I am going exploring.’

‘Oh, and what are you going to look for?’ exclaimed Sam. ‘Gold? Treasure?’

Lawrence’s eyes flickered briefly to Rose.

‘Something like that.’

‘Can I come with you?’

‘Not this time. Besides, your friend Jem will be waiting for you.’

‘Indeed he will,’ put in Rose. ‘We must be going, too. Bid Sir Lawrence goodbye now.’

While Sam made his bow she forced herself to look at Lawrence, trying to memorise every detail of his face, while at the same time silently vowing never to see him again. He turned to take his leave of her, the unsmiling look in his eyes making it very plain he understood her thoughts. He made no attempt to take her hand.

‘Goodbye, madam. I wish you well, now and always.’

She could not trust her voice to reply and merely inclined her head, jaw clenched, lips firmly pressed together. Lawrence turned on his heel and walked out. The click of the door closing behind him echoed around the room with a sad finality.

‘Mama? What did Sir Lawrence mean? Is he going away?’

‘Yes, Sam, he is.’

‘But he will not be gone for long, will he? We will see him again…’

‘Heavens, is that the time? Poor Jem will think you
have deserted him. Come along, Sam, put on your cap while I fetch my bonnet.’

With forced lightness Rose continued to chatter until she had hustled Sam out of the house, then she hurried him along the road at such a speed that he had no breath left to ask more awkward questions.