Lord of Secrets (27 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

They say, best men are moulded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad.

—
William Shakespeare

Days later, David returned to the House of Lords for an important debate. Rosalie spent a pleasant few hours shopping, and then called on her family at the town house on Bruton Street.

“Rosalie! Come here and let me look at you!” Aunt Whitwell greeted her with a smile of welcome as the butler showed her into the drawing room. “My goodness, dearie! Don’t you look well!”

It was the first time in four days Rosalie and David had been apart—and they’d spent a shocking percentage of those four days in bed. Rosalie had wondered if the glow she’d seen in the mirror that morning had been only a figment of her imagination, a projection of the happiness blazing inside her, but judging from the knowing look on her aunt Whitwell’s face, others could see it, too.

“You’re as pretty as a picture!” her aunt said in her ringing voice, seizing Rosalie’s hands and pulling her over to the sofa. “I’m afraid your uncle is at his club, and Nate has gone to the park with a friend. Isn’t it wonderful? He’s found a playmate his own age.” Aunt Whitwell wore a low-cut gown of puce and gold, its bold stripes and lavish trimmings more suited to a role on the stage than to an afternoon of receiving calls. “I’m so glad you found me in. I’ve been wondering how you were faring.”

“I’m faring very well indeed. Lyningthorp was beautiful.”

“And I can see marriage is agreeing with you. I did worry it might not. I mean—Lord Deal! Such an imposing gentleman. The most unsociable man in London. I’d even heard talk that his reputation might be just a wee bit unsavory. But one glance at you and all my fears are put to rest. If I looked the way you do, dearie, wouldn’t I be the toast of Covent Garden again!”

Still walking on air, Rosalie couldn’t help laughing. Taking in her aunt Whitwell’s beaming face, it occurred to Rosalie she might do her aunt a good turn, and her aunt might be able to do one for her in return. Now that she was the Marchioness of Deal and able to engage any modiste she liked, she could help her aunt Whitwell smooth a little of the stage flamboyance from her manner, perhaps even bringing her a bit more into fashion. And if they put their heads together, likewise her aunt might help her develop a touch more presence and dash. Rosalie wasn’t averse to acquiring a
hint
of sophistication, even if David did like her just the way she was.

A stir from the front hall caused them to break off their conversation and a moment later a footman carried in a card. Her aunt read the name. “Why, it’s your cousin, Mr. Templeton.” To the footman, she said, “Show him in.”

Charlie appeared a moment later in the doorway. “Lady Whitwell—and Rosie!” he said, giving her a grin. “I thought that was Deal’s carriage outside. I was hoping to find you here.”

“And I’ve been hoping to run into you. I was going to ask a favor of my uncle, but now that I consider the matter, I believe you’ll do nearly as well.”

Her aunt laughed. “Do you hear that, Mr. Templeton? She’s willing to settle for second best.”

“She’s always insulting me that way,” Charlie said, clutching his chest as if his heart pained him. “What is it, Rosie?”

“I was wondering if you could help me buy a puppy.”

Charlie took a seat across from them, a fond smile on his lightly freckled face. “A puppy? Why?”

“I mean to give it to Deal as a present. He lost his dog last year. Besides, I think it would be amusing for the two of us to have a pet to fuss over.”

“At least until something with a stronger claim on their attention comes along, eh?” Her aunt gave Charlie a sly wink.

Rosalie judiciously overlooked the remark. “Do you know where I could find a likely-looking prospect, Charlie? Deal used to have a spaniel.”

“Do you want a cocking spaniel or a springing spaniel?”

“Is there a difference?”

“The cocking spaniels are smaller, for hunting woodcock.”

Rosalie considered a moment, and decided David was more a big dog sort of man. “A springing spaniel, then.”

“I have a neighbor in Shropshire who breeds capital gun dogs. I’ll write him if you like.”

“Oh, thank you! I’d appreciate that.”

“I believe your uncle has a book in his study with pictures of springing spaniels in it,” her aunt said. “Shall I fetch it for you, Rosalie?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“For you? No trouble at all.” Her aunt hopped up from the sofa and headed for the study.

As the gold-spangled train of her gown disappeared through the doorway, Charlie leaned in and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I owe you an apology, Rosie, my girl. I was afraid when you asked me about Deal last week you were going to fling everything I’d told you in his teeth, and I was going to catch no end of trouble for blabbing to you the way I did. I should have known you’d never do anything so hen-witted.”

“But I did throw it in his face, Charlie—keeping your name out of it, of course. I’m afraid I have a stronger jealous streak than I’d supposed.”

“That’s pure gammon, Rosie, and we both know it. I’ve just come from White’s, and Deal arrived while I was there. I’ve rarely seen a man in a better mood. Do you know, he came in
whistling
? Not only that, but he told me the two of you mean to give a party—not some paltry little dinner, but a real ball.”

“Yes, back home at Lyningthorp. Doesn’t it sound thrilling? It’s to be my first time hosting anything so grand. And we plan to have the biggest, most memorable public day Lyningthorp has ever seen, too, for his tenants and estate workers there. It was his idea.”

“I hardly recognized Deal today. He was laughing and chatting with everyone he saw. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed the change in him.”

“Oh, Charlie!” Though Rosalie knew he was flattering her, she soaked up every word. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Devil a bit of it. Believe me, when a man so recently married looks that happy, it’s bound to be remarked upon. Deal came in for some good-natured ribbing, I can tell you, most of it crediting you with having made a new man of him.”

From Charlie’s faint blush, Rosalie judged not all of the good-natured ribbing had been entirely proper. “But I don’t deserve the credit. I’m convinced David was ready to make a change.”

“There are changes, and then there are changes,” Charlie said with more sagacity than eloquence. “It’s plain as day what’s happened, Rosie. You rescued him, just as you set out to do.”

* * *

Rosalie emerged from her aunt and uncle’s house to discover the sky had darkened ominously during her call. As she traveled back to Deal House, scattered raindrops streaked the carriage windows. She made it home just seconds before the clouds burst and the rain poured down in earnest.

David was still out. Though nothing of note had happened, she burned with impatience to see him, to tell him about her afternoon and to learn about his. All day, try as she might, she’d been unable to go more than a minute or two at a stretch without thinking of him—what he would say if he were present, the expression he’d be wearing, the looks they would trade. It had been hard not to think about that other, too—the time they’d been spending in bed together and the things he’d been teaching her. Her cheeks warming, she went upstairs to change for dinner, hoping he wouldn’t be long.

She was checking her appearance one last time in the mirror, surveying the effect of the garnet cross Bridger had fastened about her neck, when the sound of his arrival at the front door made her heart give an eager bound. She hurried out of her dressing room to greet him.

He was in the hall below, sorting through the post. She stopped at the top of the stairs, drinking in the sight of him—the strong features, the tall, lean body. He must have been caught in the cloudburst, for he was literally dripping wet.

She sighed happily. How immensely dear to her everything about him had become.

She doubted demons of the sort that had plagued David most of his life could be swept away in a single week. She fully expected he would fall prey to brooding silences on occasion and experience echoes of the past. If nothing else, David’s aunt was still out there somewhere, a living reminder of all he’d suffered. No, recovery would be a gradual and sometimes challenging process, with both good days and bad.

But the worst of his troubles were behind him. He no longer carried a host of dark secrets around with him everywhere he went, his every wound as raw as it had been the day he first acquired it. He no longer felt the need to cut himself off from the rest of the world, living his life in self-imposed banishment. Though David’s recovery would take time, he’d finally begun to heal.

And she would be there for him as he healed, as he had been there for her after her father died.

He glanced up, his dark hair curling wetly over his forehead. Seeing her on the stairs, he broke into a smile that lent his face an engaging boyishness. “So you’re home, my dear.”

“So I am. David, you’re soaked to the skin.”

“Yes, I had the brilliant notion of sending the carriage home after it dropped me at White’s this afternoon, thinking the walk back would do me good. Of course, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky at the time.”

“You’ll catch your death of cold. Come upstairs at once and get out of those wet things.”

Obediently, he started up the stairs toward her. “You could be a bit more subtle about trying to get me out of my clothes.”

She laughed. “I thought you would accuse me of mothering you, not turn it into some naughty invitation.”

“Well, we each have our own special talents. Yours lies in mothering people, mine lies in being naughty.” He drew level with her, his eyes smiling into hers, and before she had time to react, he backed her against the wall and kissed her.

She gasped at the shock of his touch. She’d been warm and dry, and David was cold and wet through and through. Even so, as his lips covered hers, heat flooded through her. He tasted of rain and smelled faintly of wet wool, a combination she’d never associated with sexual desire before, but which was likely to make her blush from that day forward. As his hard body pressed against hers, her knees went weak and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

When he lifted his head, she protested breathlessly, “Now you’ve made me all wet.”

“Why, Lady Deal, what a shocking thing to announce.”

She laughed at his teasing grin. “No, I mean you’ve made my
clothes
all wet.”

“Of course, my little innocent. What else should you mean? But if that’s the case, shouldn’t we get you out of those wet things?”

“Ah, so that’s what you were about.”

“‘Though this be madness, yet there is method in’t.’”

“I had just finished dressing, you know. I doubt I’ve been wearing this gown a full ten minutes.”

“I’ll make it up to you, my heart. As I said, your talent lies in mothering people, and mine in being naughty.”

“You’re not really so naughty as all that, David,” she said, warmed to her bones by the glow in his eyes.

“And you’re not really a mother—yet.” He took her hand and turned to lead her toward the bedroom. “But let’s see if we can change that.”

* * * * *

About the Author

Alyssa Everett grew up in Florida, where from an early age her favorite books typically had dukes in them. As a teen she worked in an amusement park, doing just about every kind of odd job a person can do, from collecting garbage to captaining an African boat cruise.

She met her future husband at Harvard University. They currently live with their three children and a springer spaniel in small-town Pennsylvania.

Lord of Secrets
is her second Regency. Her first,
Ruined by Rumor
, was published by Carina Press in May of 2012.

Where no great story goes untold.
The variety you want to read, the stories authors have always wanted to write.
With new releases every week, your next great read is just a download away!

Keep in touch with Carina Press:
Read our blog:
www.CarinaPress.com/blog
Follow us on Twitter:
www.twitter.com/CarinaPress
Become a fan on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/CarinaPress