Bride Who Fell in Love with Her Husband (6 page)

“Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the park with Stanhope, and then discovered he'd wed you.” He snorted and reached out a hand. “However did you manage to escape His Grace, and snag yourself a baron's son?”

She stepped back. “Leave me alone, you bastard.”

The weight of knowing he could potentially hurt Thomas was almost more than she could carry. Thomas was a respectable man with a respectable family. If this beast chose to make her past public, he could ruin Thomas in the eyes of society.

Thomas cared nothing about her past. Still, society would not be as welcoming of a courtesan in their ranks. Doors would be closed to him and his family. Rose would be shunned. She knew this, even if he chose to ignore the reality of his choice to marry her. She had to save him from facing this as his future.

As if knowing he had her trapped, Wilkinson stepped forward. “I will keep your secret, dearest, in return for one day a week in your bed.”

Sickened and weak-kneed, Rose dropped into a chair. “I cannot.”

“You will.” He smirked. “We will begin our association next week. I will leave the details to you. Send around a note with the where and when and I will come to you.”

Without warning, he jerked her to her feet and kissed her. Shocked, she stood frozen. Just as quickly, he released her and left, clearly smug and confident she'd do his bidding.

Her knees wobbled and she felt heartsick. In a few minutes he'd turned her from respectable wife back into a courtesan.

It did not matter if she wore proper clothes and had learned how to be a proper wife, beneath everything, she was, and always would be, a courtesan in the eyes of men like Wilkinson. And in her heart, she knew he was right. She'd been fooling herself to think otherwise.

Scrubbing her mouth on her sleeve, Rose ran from the parlor, up the staircase to her room, and emptied her stomach into the chamber pot.

* * * *

“The family has been invited to a rout tomorrow evening at Freemont House,” Thomas said at dinner. “I bumped into Sir Alistair at White's and he issued the invitation. There will be dancing.”

Rose forced a strained smile. “That should be lovely.”

“I thought a party would please you,” Thomas said. “We have never danced together. I look forward to doing so.”

“I look forward to it as well.” Since her encounter with Wilkinson, Rose had suffered silently, unsure of what to do. The situation was dire. She could not, would not, bed Wilkinson.

But what could she do? She was trapped.

Her stomach soured when she settled her eyes on her husband. Betraying him wasn't even a consideration. She'd rather throw herself off the London Bridge than let that horrid devil touch her.

“We will not be attending,” the baroness said, glancing at her daughters. Priscilla's shoulders slumped and Prudence looked smug. Whatever happiness Priscilla had found was not to be shared by her sister. Prudence was clearly her mother's daughter.

Rose brushed off her troubled thoughts and faced the baroness. “Priscilla
will
be attending. We will shop for gowns tomorrow.”

Priscilla smiled and bounced in her seat. Not even her mother's glare could dim her spirits.

“She will not,” the baroness repeated. “I need her here.”

“For what purpose? You are not infirm or bedridden.” Rose stood, placed her hands flat on the table, and leaned toward the baroness. “Priscilla will attend, and that is final.”

The baroness placed a hand over her heart. “Well.”

With a withering glare, Rose pushed back, rounded her chair, and left the room.

If her own life was to be ruined in a few short days, at least she'd make certain Priscilla was settled with Byron and out of reach of her mother.

Her footsteps were heavy as she went to her bedroom—hers and Thomas's. She let her eyes move from the cream wallpaper to the dressing table that she'd draped in flowing rose-patterned fabric, over the lamps and table and the wardrobe. The masculine feel of the space had been transformed with a few small feminine touches.

There was even a vase filled with fragrant flowers that Thomas had brought home for her just this afternoon. A thoughtful gesture she'd rewarded with kisses.

Lastly, she gazed at the bed, the place where they'd loved each other, a devoted husband and a cherished wife.

Her throat caught. In that moment Rose realized that in spite of her vow to keep her heart untouched, she loved Thomas, very much. What a sad situation indeed.

She could lose the one man who truly cared for her and there was likely nothing she could do to change that course.

She heard him come up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes to fight the welling tears.

“You've made a firm friend in Priscilla,” he said, and pressed a kiss on her neck. “I shall see that Byron attends the party as Priscilla's guest. By the close of the evening, he should be ready to offer for her.”

Rose rubbed her face on his arm. She turned and peered into his warm brown eyes. “I am pleased. She deserves happiness.”

Thomas traced a thumb along her jaw. “Is something the matter, sweet? You seemed quiet through dinner.”

She managed to smile. “It is nothing to concern yourself with. I'm just a bit nervous about the party. It's my first as a respectable wife.”

He cupped her face. “I know you will be a smashing success, Rose Stanhope. You will charm everyone there.”

Forcing back the desire to tell him she loved him, she knew she would do anything to keep the family safe from scandal . . . even if she had to leave him. If the break became her only option, it would be easier to convince him she wanted her freedom if he didn't know of her feelings.

She lifted up on her toes and kissed him with her whole heart. “Love me, Thomas.”

“I do, love,” he said, and carried her to the bed.

* * * *

The party arrived too quickly as the coach whisked them away from the town house. Rose was quiet as Thomas and Priscilla discussed the coming evening.

Rose and Priscilla had purchased gowns, a lavender-and-white lace for Rose and a pale green with tiny rosebuds at the bodice for Priscilla. But it wasn't the whirl of party preparation that occupied Rose's mind. No, it was her mounting despair over the Wilkinson matter.

Running away appeared to be her only option, and with growing dread, she'd prepared for her escape.

With little money of her own, she'd borrowed some coins from the household accounts and arranged for a horse. She'd packed a valise and hid it in her wardrobe, and, with a heavy heart, had written a farewell note for Thomas.

By morning, if she couldn't find another answer to her woes, she'd be on her way to Scotland. Wilkinson was too powerful to fight.

Rose pressed her hands to her mouth and blinked back tears. She silently prayed for another solution, any way to keep her life with Thomas, as the clock ticked forward, stealing away her last precious minutes with the husband she adored.

The baroness would be giddy with joy to find her gone.

Oddly, Rose found the prospect of never seeing the grim-faced baroness again displeasing. She'd gotten used to her grumbles and thinly veiled insults.

“Here we are,” Thomas said as the coach rolled to a stop. He helped Rose and Priscilla down from the vehicle and spirited them into Freemont House.

The grand ballroom was filled with people, though not overly so. Thomas knew many of the guests and introduced Rose and his sister to everyone, including the host and hostess, Sir Alistair and Mrs. Edmonson. The pair was short and stout and wore matching warm smiles. Rose managed to smile in return.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Rose said. “You have a lovely home.”

“We would have issued an earlier invitation had we not thought you on your honeymoon,” Mrs. Edmonson said, taking Rose's hand. “I am pleased you could join us tonight. Your husband is one of my favorites. He is so charming.”

“Yes, he is,” Rose said softly. Thomas was handsome in black with a gray-and-white-striped waistcoat. “We had decided to wait until September to visit Dover, when it is cooler,” Rose added. “I have always wanted to see the white cliffs.”

“Oh, how delightful,” Mrs. Edmonson said. “You will enjoy them very much. It is such a pretty place.”

Thomas nodded. “I agree. I cannot wait for fall.”

They chatted for a few minutes and Thomas excused them. “I see Byron,” he said as he led his wife and sister away. “We shall settle Priscilla into his care and join with the dancers. I do want to dance with my beautiful wife.”

In spite of her misgivings, Rose surprised herself. She'd remembered the steps to the country dance. It had been years since she'd danced, well before she'd fled her mother's home. She and Thomas shared affectionate glances as they came together and split apart, twirling with the music. She forced aside her unhappiness, wanting to enjoy one last evening of joy as Thomas's wife.

They dined and danced and chatted with Byron and Priscilla. It was easy to see how much the couple cared for each other.

“I didn't want to tell Thomas this, but Byron and I have been meeting secretly in Regent's Park,” Priscilla confessed to Rose when they had a private moment. “He wants to marry me.”

“Oh, Priscilla. That is wonderful.” Rose hugged her tightly. She was truly happy for the couple. “Byron must speak to Thomas immediately and get an engagement in place before your mother finds a way to frighten him off.” The women shared a knowing glance. “Though you do not need his permission, as the acting head of the family, your brother will be put out if you do not include him.”

“We will.” Priscilla pulled back, her eyes misty. “I can never thank you properly for what you have done for us. I would have never found my way to Byron if not for you.”

Rose blinked back tears. “I only pointed out what the two of you did not see. You have found love all on your own.”

Thomas and Byron rejoined them. Thomas's face was tight. “Will you excuse us, sister? I need a moment alone with my wife.”

He took her arm, his grip firm, and led her from the ballroom at a rapid clip. Confused at his sudden anger, she begged, “Thomas, please slow down.” Her plea was ignored. He didn't slow until he found an empty parlor and led her inside. A single candle flickering in a wall sconce lit the room.

Rose spun around and put her hands on her hips. “Tell me why you are so angry? Have I done something wrong?”

Thomas closed the space between them. “Why did you not tell me of Wilkinson's visit? You know I do not want him near you, yet he came to the house and you met with him alone.”

Rose blanched. Had Wilkinson's vile proposal come to light?

No. If it had, Thomas would be even more furious. She had to explain the visit away, and quickly.

“How did you find this out?”

“Wilkinson told me. I stumbled upon him in the foyer.”

There was only one reason he'd mention his visit to Thomas. He wanted to torment Rose. Somehow he'd know she'd keep the visit to herself. He was out to create strife in their marriage, to remind her of how easily a well-placed word could destroy everything she held dear.

The evening was ruined. She couldn't face him, not with his vile blackmail hanging over her. She'd find an excuse to return home.

However, first she had to convince Thomas that she was not considering an affair.

“I did not think it worth mentioning, as he came only to congratulate us again on our marriage. He did not know you were out and I made certain the parlor doors were kept open. There was nothing improper about the visit.” The lie burned on her tongue.

The assurance did not soothe him. “I saw the way he looked at you in the park. He is a cad, a bounder. He hunts women, innocent, married, whores, anyone to appease his unhealthy appetites. You must stay away from him. If he comes to the house again, have the footmen toss him out.”

If only it were that easy. “Yes, dearest.” Rose reached out her hand and placed it on his arm. “I assure you that I will never be seduced by that man. He is distasteful.” And so much worse. “Trust me?”

It took a moment for the anger in Thomas to abate, slightly. The tension was still clear.

She squeezed his arm. “I am devoted to you, Thomas. We took vows. I intend to keep them.”

A muscle in his jaw pulsed. He took her by the hands and his eyes locked onto hers. “You are mine forever. I love you, Rose. I'll kill any man who touches you.”

Rose nodded, her eyes downcast. She reclaimed her hands. “I should return to Priscilla. She will be worried.” She hurried away without a backward glance.

Thomas growled low in his throat and resisted the urge to find Wilkinson and break all of his bones.

He wanted to trust his wife. It was the deception he'd felt in her explanation that left him feeling duped. She'd not told him about the visit. Had she done so, he might have accepted that Wilkinson had come to offer his best wishes. Now he wasn't certain of anything. All he knew was that Rose was not being honest. He'd seen it in her eyes.

He'd warned her about the man. He'd also told her of Wilkinson's wealth, and now he wondered if that might have been his biggest mistake.

Many character flaws could be overlooked if a purse was big enough. But could Rose be easily swayed to break their wedding vows over the first wealthy man who crossed her path?

It was that damnable hat that had planted the seed of doubt. Now it had grown into a thorny weed, set to ruin everything. He had to find out what Wilkinson had planned for Rose before it was too late.

* * * *

Accepting her excuse of a headache, Thomas took Rose and Priscilla home and saw Rose settled in bed. She feigned sleep when he finally joined her and watched him sleep during the long hours of night, crying silently beside him in the large bed.