The Clarendon Rose (12 page)

He shrugged.
 
“London’s not too far down the road,” he said dismissively.
 
“I can rest up at the townhouse once I get there.”

“Your mother’s there at the moment.”

“So I understand,” he agreed dryly.
 
“Ah well, perhaps Clarendon will let me use his establishment.
 
Otherwise, I shall contrive to make do,” he added, standing.
 
“Listen Tina, I’m sorry this is such a short stop in.
 
I get the sense that there are things bothering you.
 
Next time we meet, I want to know what they are.
 
I’ll help if I can.
 
But I do need to speak to my brother before I head into the city, and I want to get to the townhouse before dark.”

“Of course, Edmund.
 
Just don’t push yourself too hard,” Tina stood as well, taking his hands in her own.
 
“You really do look tired, so make sure you actually do rest up once you get there.”

He grinned.
 
“All right.
 
I promise,” he said as he took her face in his hands and planted a resounding kiss on her forehead.
 
He had already started out of the room when he paused and half-turned back to glance at Tina.
 
“But you had something to tell me as well.
 
I had forgotten.
 
I’m sorry, Tina.
 
What was it?
 
Good news?”

She shook her head, smiling.
 
“It’s nothing.
 
We can discuss it later.
 
Go see the duke—you’ll need to be on your way if you want to reach the city by dark.”

He nodded, flashed her another grin, and was gone.

Tina had just started up the stairs on her way to her room, her thoughts still whirling, when Mrs. Keithly’s voice stopped her.

“You’ve a letter, Miss Tina,” the housekeeper called, holding out the missive in question.

Tina frowned as she accepted it.
 
“Who could be writing to me?”
 

The correspondence from the stewards on the other holdings was never addressed to her personally.
 
She examined the spidery handwriting without any recognition.
 
Then, realizing that Mrs. Keithly was still hovering curiously, she glanced up and nodded.
 
“Thank you Mrs. Keithly,” she said, and continued up the stairs.

Once in the privacy of her room, she broke the seal to discover that it was a response to one of her applications for a position.
 
Miss Smythe-Perkins wrote to say she would be happy indeed to have Miss Merriweather as a genteel companion, to start at the earliest possible moment.

Tina folded the letter and placed it on the table beside her bed. She would write to Miss Smythe-Perkins later, declining her kind offer—for now, Tina still had some adjusting to do.
 
It’s not every day you learn you’re going to be leaving for India in a few weeks’ time.

Clarendon frowned at the small stack of letters on his desk.
 
On the top, there rested a fresh, yellow rose.
 
His secret admirer must have discovered his change of residence and send the blossom directly.

He shook his head, trying, with some difficulty, to concentrate on the question of who the devil could be sending him roses.
 

Instead, his mind kept straying to the sight of Edmund’s hands, so casually curled around Miss Merriweather’s fingers that the gesture hardly seemed like the impropriety it was.
 

His reaction to the sight of Miss Merriweather greeting his brother stunned him with its violence.
 
For a moment or two, he had been blinded by a black, bitter fury as the pair of them embraced, all the while grinning like fools.
 
Of course, by the time his brother glanced in his direction, the duke was in control once more.

He ripped open the envelope that had been attached to the rose, already knowing more or less what it would contain.
 
And sure enough, there was the smaller packet of seeds and the folded sheet of paper, bearing the words “The Deatker Rose.”

He let out an impatient breath.
 
Though he had certainly made a few eccentric friends over the years, none immediately sprang to mind as the sort who would send him roses anonymously.
 

But, instead of summoning the names of likely candidates, his mind once again provided him with the image of Edmund and Miss Merriweather embracing.
 
He’d only needed to look at the two of them to perceive the depth of affection they shared.
 

No matter if Miss Merriweather smiles at you, or even if she wraps those delectable arms around you in a misguided attempt at comfort, she is not yours, nor ever will be.

Thinking it—even knowing it, didn’t make it any easier to accept.
 
If anything, it made him all the more eager to punch something, or to go out and get royally drunk.
 
How else was he going to be able to endure the days to come, knowing they were both under the same roof?
 
Knowing that as soon as she left his company, her calm tutelage over for the day, she would be seeking out his younger brother—the handsome, studious one, who had no traumas to darken his mood and make him difficult company.
 
The one she loved.

Just then, he heard a knock on the door.
 
Bloody hell.
 
Edmund.
 
He shook his head, only now remembering his brother had wanted to speak to him after the tête-à-tête with Miss Merriweather.
 
He took a moment to bring himself under control once again, before calling out,
 
“Enter!”

Seeing his brother’s flushed, grinning face was almost too much, but Clarendon managed to maintain the iron grip on his reactions, reminding himself that he had absolutely no right feel this jealous fury.
 
But despite that, his mind was already imagining the possible things Miss Merriweather might have done to put that smile on his brother’s face.
 
The vivid image of the two of them in a passionate embrace stoked the fire of his anger.

Nor did Edmund’s news about the position in India serve to calm him.
 
Instead, it simply added another facet to his swirling emotions.
 
But, throughout their interview, he held himself in control, and offered his felicitations on the good news.
 
He even managed to suggest writing a few letters of introduction for his brother to use in India.

“My travels did take me there, and though I doubt I made a particularly positive impression on certain individuals, I can only speculate that the title of duke will help smooth that over and open a few doors,” he commented dryly.
 
“And of course, as soon as they meet you, it will be clear you’re nothing like your feckless older brother.”

Edmund let out a derisive snort.
 
“Come now, Clarendon, that’s doing it a bit brown, isn’t it?
 
Feckless?”

Clarendon shrugged.
 
“I was then.
 
But regardless, I will have the letters ready, whenever you require them.
 
Just let me know.”

His brother waved a dismissive hand, shaking his head.
 
“Not for a time, yet.
 
Tina and I will have to be married before we leave.
 
And there are all the other arrangements to be made.”

“Indeed.
 
What of money?
 
Of course you’ll have whatever you need to properly finance the trip.”

“My allowance is far too generous already, Clarendon.
 
I’d have to be profligate indeed if that weren’t enough to pay for the expedition in adequate style.”
 
Despite the amusement in Edmund’s voice, Clarendon heard the unyielding steel hidden in its undertone.
 
He nodded in acknowledgement of his brother’s decision.

Edmund continued, “For the moment, however, I need to rush on to London to discuss details with Monty, as he’s booked his passage out and will be leaving soon.”

“Excellent,” Clarendon replied, then hesitated, for he respected his brother’s resolution to make his own way in the world.
 
However, the thought of extra income to Edmund and Tina, should they choose to accept it from him, clinched the notion.
 
Perhaps one of his ventures might pique Edmund’s curiosity—in which case Clarendon would be happy for the excuse to add his brother’s name to its payroll.
 
“I should also mention that while I was there, I developed a few business interests.
 
If you get the chance, I would very much appreciate your report upon their progress, brother.”

A slow smile crept across Edmund’s face.
 
“Why, you sly devil!
 
Feckless indeed,” he exclaimed.
 

Clarendon refrained from pointing out that even when he had been at his most self-indulgent, he hadn’t been completely without sense.
 
He had used part of his income as Marquess of Southam to make investments throughout his travels.
 
He now held interests in the West and East Indies, as well as in a half-dozen other regions between the two.
 

He had even settled on a plantation in the West Indies for a time, in order to give himself a bit of experience with what was involved in running an estate—one reason he hadn’t been completely lost upon inheriting the dukedom.
 
Of course, it had been a much smaller holding there, and as a result, its administration hadn’t infringed too much upon the other aspects of Clarendon’s lifestyle.

Edmund had stood and was holding out his hand.
 
“But of course, I’d be happy to look into the status of your interests there.”

Clarendon grasped his brother’s hand, then pulled him in for a rough hug.
 
“Take care of yourself.
 
I’ve hardly returned and already you’re planning on vacating the country.”

Edmund laughed.
 
“At least I’m a more regular correspondent than you.
 
Those sporadic little notes you sent never told us much about anything, whereas I promise you that my missives will be brimming with information.
 
Take care, brother.
 
I’ll see you soon!”

As the door closed behind Edmund, Clarendon sank down into one of the chairs, suddenly exhausted.
 
So they would be leaving him, would they?
 
Edmund’s easy manner had taken the edge off his fury, but Clarendon still did not dare stray too near the thought of his brother and Miss Merriweather together, for even as he approached it, he began to feel the return of that simmering resentment.
 

He leaned his head against the back of the chair and considered the notion of getting thoroughly drunk.
 
He had already learned that it wouldn’t solve anything.
 
Nor was he the kind of drunkard who craved the taste of liquor above all else—he had sought refuge in the opium and drink as an escape from his nightmares and guilt, rather than out of a desire for the effects of the intoxicants.
 
And, he had learned too well that the obliviating effects of the substances did not outlast the duration of their influence.
 

But, as he thought about the feel of her lips against his own—about the way her breasts had pressed against him and her magnificent body had felt under his hands, even the notion of temporary oblivion—and perhaps a woman, in whose soft, anonymous curves he could bury himself for a few hours—seemed to have some merit.
 
As he considered that he must smile upon her and show her the affection of a brother, all the while wanting more than those polite smiles in return, he knew his decision had already been made.
 
Besides, the thought of facing her this afternoon was simply not to be borne.

Striding from the room, he summoned one of the footmen.
 
“Tell Miss Merriweather that I will not be in until late tonight and I must therefore regrettably cancel our meeting this afternoon.
 
I will not be in for dinner.”

The duke was already seated when Tina entered the breakfast room.
 
He did not look like a man who had spent a restful night.
 
His fresh shave and immaculate clothing did nothing to disguise the dark smudges under his eyes and heavy exhaustion in his expression.
 

After getting the duke’s message canceling their meeting yesterday, Tina had paced the grounds restlessly, torn between conflicting emotions.
 
On the one hand, she assured herself that she was doing the right thing—distancing herself from the duke while at the same time accepting a role that would be invaluable to her beloved Edmund.
 
But, on the other, there was some part of her that recoiled from the notion.
 

Though Edmund would need her support and help in India, she knew she would still be using him, and she could not avoid acknowledging that he deserved far better than that.
 
And, prowling restlessly about the grounds, she also began to realize that she would miss England terribly.
 
How happy would she be—and how good a companion would she be to Edmund—if she were constantly pining after the rolling green hills of the English countryside?

After a quiet meal in the library, Tina had retired to bed, falling asleep easily, despite her troubled thoughts.
 
She had assumed that Clarendon must have returned not long after she dozed off.