Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Not trying is the only true failure.

—The Duke of Lancaster

Ten days later, Rose and her friends were seated in Lady Lancaster’s Blue Salon for their weekly Garden Society meeting. A lot had happened recently, but not necessarily to Rose.

The day after the Sunderland Ball, she had sent the requested books to Lady Lancaster, along with the address for Dr. Orfila her father had managed to procure. A week ago at an earlier Garden Society meeting, the duchess mentioned that Rose was working on something that may bring Lord Shrewsbury to justice, but other than that it had been a relatively dull week and a half. Well, except for all the excitement surrounding the custom house. It had blown up, after all.

Hannah had gone through quite an ordeal wrapping up the intrigue with her brother.

Originally, it had seemed a rather troubling case of smuggling involving Hannah’s brother, David; the younger brother of Lord Pembroke, Alexander; and Simon. Unfortunately though, Lord Shrewsbury had gotten wind of the illegal activity and was using the information to blackmail Hannah into marrying him!

Now, even more than before, Rose was determined to find proof that Lord Shrewsbury had indeed killed his brother. Clearly the man was batty and needed to be locked up so that he could no longer hurt anyone else.

She had complete confidence that Hannah and Lord Pembroke would foil Caleb’s current plot, but what about any new plans the insane lord came up with? It was left to her to put a stop to the man once and for all.

So, as she sat in Lady Lancaster’s salon waiting for the servants to complete their delivery of tea and sandwiches, Rose wondered what the day would bring for her. She didn’t have to wait very long to find out.

“Now, at the last meeting, as you all may remember,” Lady Lancaster began, “I mentioned that Rose may have found the key to Lord Shrewsbury’s undoing—”

“Yes!” Hannah exclaimed. “I have been waiting a week to hear more about this.”

Lady Lancaster gave Hannah a quelling look before she continued. “There is not too much I can reveal yet, but there does seem to be some reason to think that the Traité des poisons that Rose found may hold the key to proving Frederick Collicott was murdered.”

The duchess and the other ladies turned expectantly toward Rose. Even Hope, who had heard about the topic already, suddenly looked more intrigued now that the knowledge could be used against their common foe, Lord Shrewsbury.

Rose blushed at the sudden attention and took a moment to gather her thoughts before replying. “Well, in the treatise, Dr. Orfila describes the symptoms of various types of poisoning, as well as discussing how traces of toxins are left in the body after a poisoning, but most importantly, he has discovered a means of detecting them.”

The girls sat back, clearly stunned by that revelation.

“You mean that there is now a way to determine scientifically whether or not a person has been poisoned?” Hannah said in a hushed voice.

“According to Dr. Orfila, yes,” Rose replied.

“That is going to make a lot of society very nervous, don’t you think?” Emily speculated aloud.

“I believe it has already done so,” Lady Lancaster replied.

“My goodness, this could change the face of the aristocracy forever,” Sarah said.

“Not to mention the face of science and discovery,” Rose added.

“But first, we need to know more about it and how we can possibly use it to solve our own little mystery,” Lady Lancaster announced with a clap of her hands. “Rose, you are obviously the most qualified for this intrigue. Therefore, I want you to meet with Dr. Orfila and find out more about this science of his.”

Rose choked on her tea. “Meet with Dr. Orfila?”

“Of course!” Lady Lancaster announced. “Who better to tell you how his science works and what he will need from us to convict that horrid little lord?”

Of course, Rose thought weakly. Honestly, speaking with Dr. Orfila did make sense, but Rose never thought she would actually get to meet with such a brilliant man. For the first time, it seemed she was going to be moving out of the realm of the written word and into the practical world of application.

“And,” Lady Lancaster continued, “I think you ought to take Mr. Trumbull along with you.”

“What?” exclaimed three of the five women in the room in unison…the remaining two apparently too shocked to say anything.

Lady Lancaster nodded, saying, “Dr. Orfila may not be willing to talk to a mere woman about his findings, so bringing a gentleman along is simply the practical thing to do. And as far as Mr. Trumbull is concerned, I believe there is a lot more to that young man than we had previously realized.”

Unwilling to entertain the idea that Dr. Orfila would be so unenlightened as to not speak to a woman, Rose chose to focus on the part of Lady Lancaster’s statement that did give her pause. “What evidence have you seen that Simon is more than what he appears?”

“Well, nothing that I have witnessed myself,” Lady Lancaster replied dryly. “However, Hannah has learned of a few things during her investigation that have indicated the boy is quite clever and possessed of some measure of intelligent forethought.”

Rose turned to look at Hannah, who was nodding in agreement.

“It’s true, Rose,” Hannah told her. “Even William has commented on it.”

Hmmm, Rose thought. If William—Lord Pembroke—mentioned it, there must be something to what the duchess was saying. Lady Lancaster and Hannah—and frankly everyone else she had ever met—thought very highly of the Earl of Pembroke.

Perhaps it was time to reacquaint herself with the boy she once knew only as “Mine,” especially after their last dance. Certainly he had been on her mind more in the last few days. And her stomach was definitely affected by such thoughts. “Very well,” Rose said slowly. “If you think Simon could be of some help, I will ask him for his assistance. However, I cannot guarantee he will agree to aid us.”

“I believe you will find,” Lady Lancaster replied, “that when Mr. Trumbull learns that he would be helping to capture Lord Shrewsbury, he will be most eager to participate in any way he can.”

Put that way, Rose was inclined to agree. It sounded like, from what Hannah had said last week, the odious Lord Shrewsbury had used Simon most offensively during this whole smuggling coup.

“I will contact Simon at once,” Rose decided.

“Good, good,” the duchess said. “I have taken the liberty of contacting Dr. Orfila using the information your father obtained, Rose. As fate would have it, the doctor is already here in London!”

“He is?” Rose replied in disbelief.

“Yes! Isn’t that something?” Lady Lancaster agreed. “I do not know how long he will be here, but if it is only a short time, you will not have long to find whatever proof may be required by your scientist.”

Rose nodded. “We will go tomorrow if I can manage to contact Simon in time. Do you know where the doctor is staying?”

“I believe he is residing with a Dr. Charles Bell in Leicester Fields.”

Interesting, Rose thought. Dr. Charles Bell was a rather renowned surgeon in London. She had read about his work in his book Idea of a New Anatomy of the Brain. It was a fascinating topic. “I am familiar with Dr. Bell’s work, actually.”

“Why don’t I find that surprising?” Hope muttered, surely in sarcastic commentary as to Rose’s extensive reading habits.

Rose chose to ignore her friend and instead said, “Leicester Fields is not far from here, so hopefully Simon and I will be able to make arrangements to see Dr. Orfila as soon as possible. And I will let you know what we discover at the next Society meeting,” Rose promised.

“Perfect! Now that should put an end to the business side of our meeting,” Lady Lancaster determined. “Hannah, why don’t you tell us more about your and Lord Pembroke’s wedding plans. It is just two weeks away now, correct?”

“Yes and there is so much to do…” Hannah began, clearly pleased by the new direction of conversation.

The rest of the afternoon passed by swiftly as the ladies talked and laughed about a variety of silly, inconsequential things and soon they all were saying good-bye and heading home.

Rose enjoyed the chatter as much as she could, but in her head she was writing and rewriting her missive to Simon. This would be the first time she had ever contacted him for anything other than some party invitation or whatnot, and she truly hoped that the adventure she was inviting him to embark upon would not be a complete waste of time. As much as Lady Lancaster had some new faith in Simon, Rose could not yet see him as anything more than the good-for-nothing rake he seemed to be. It would be nice if this time together would act as an enhancement to their current relationship and not be the further ruination of it, but for the life of her, Rose didn’t think it was likely.

Chapter Four

Never doubt a woman’s intuition, especially an intelligent woman’s intuition.

—The Duke of Lancaster

The next morning, a tired Simon found himself knocking on Rose’s front door. He had had a late night out with David and Alexander and was, quite frankly, exhausted.

His friends had filled him in on the events of the last few weeks and apparently Simon was right about his cousin. Caleb had been planning something rather evil and had coerced Simon into providing him with the leverage he needed to carry out his little plan.

Feeling quite used and abused by his cousin, Simon had decided to drown his troubles in a rather lot of alcohol. Of course, it didn’t particularly help much and all Simon had to show for it was a pounding headache and an acute lack of sleep.

And instead of being home in bed nursing his aching head, he was standing on Rose’s front porch.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he was doing there, but he had never before received a summons from Rose like the one he had received last night, and he was more than a little curious. The note had been short and to the point.

I must see you. Tomorrow morning. Please.

~Rose

Simon supposed it was the “Please” that got him more than anything else.

In all the years they had known each other, Rose had never asked him for anything. Her parents had, certainly his parents had, but Rose had never once expected anything of him. She seemed willing and content to let him find his own way in his life and in their relationship.

Of course, Simon could have been reading Rose all wrong. For all he knew, the girl didn’t expect anything of him because she didn’t rightly care about him or what he did, but Simon rather hoped that wasn’t the case.

The truth was, ever since their dance at the Sunderland Ball, Simon had been having trouble getting Rose out of his head. He found it ironic that he had gone into that waltz intending to burn it into Rose’s memory and yet he was the one who couldn’t forget.

Simon was still lost in his thoughts when the door opened and, to his surprise, it was Rose who was standing there, not her butler, Chauncy.

“Oh good! You came!” Rose exclaimed, clearly excited and relieved at the same time. She grabbed his arm rather forcefully and pulled him into the nearby library. She looked quickly to the right and left before easing the door shut.

Simon was shocked. He was shocked when Rose opened the front door, he was shocked when she manhandled him into the library, and he was tremendously shocked when she then shut the door to the library…all the way!

It was extremely unorthodox for an unmarried young lady to be alone in the company of a gentleman. To do so could ruin the girl’s reputation beyond all repair and many times resulted in a rather rushed trip to the altar. Even leaving the door ajar a scant two inches was enough to maintain propriety, but this? This was quite improper, even if they were technically engaged.

I really need to sit down, Simon thought, looking around for the nearest chair. Unfortunately there were too many options to choose from. Aside from the window seat and the desk chair, Simon counted about a half dozen chairs of various sizes, shapes, styles, and colors, not to mention the number of squat stools scattered about.

The overabundance of seating choices was enough to do a man in and Simon was in no condition to logically assess the best option, so he sat on the nearest thing to him—a small dainty wingback chair.

It was surely a sight to see.

…

When Rose turned around to address Simon, she was presented with the ridiculous vision of him scrunched up uncomfortably in a chair clearly meant for a woman’s parlor—a diminutive woman, at that—with his legs crossed awkwardly, his elbows resting together on one knee, and his head held high in some attempt to look suave and sophisticated, while it was clear he was anything but.

Rose couldn’t help herself as she burst out laughing.

Simon growled at her merriment while he unfolded himself from the chair and, taking two steps to his right, settled into a much larger, much more comfortable armchair.

Her mother had returned from a recent shopping excursion with a variety of new chairs, most of which she had put in the library until she could decide where to place them in the rest of the house. Rose had seen this happen before and invariably all of the temporarily placed furniture ended up remaining where it was from that point forward.

In this new seat, Simon finally seemed settled. In fact, if Rose didn’t know any better, she would have thought he had fallen asleep. Rose was a little perturbed that Simon hadn’t even said hello, much less asked how she was or even why she had invited him over out of the blue. And now the man was just lounging back as if he had not a care in the world.

“Are you quite comfortable?” Rose asked, raising her eyebrow mockingly.

Simon opened one eye to look at her and then slowly closed it again. “Yes, quite.”

“Oh good,” Rose said, crossing her arms.

At her words, Simon popped both eyes open and straightened a bit in his chair. “Was that sarcasm I just heard?”

Rose just gave him an arch look.

…

And that was it—the final straw.

“Good Lord, Rose! First you open the front door, then you practically lock us in a room together, and now…now you are plying me with sarcasm! What’s next?”

Scoffing, Rose replied, “I only opened the front door because I happened to be passing by; I haven’t locked us in the library, I merely closed the door so we could have some privacy, and when a situation demands sarcasm, then sarcasm is what you will get…even from me.”

Simon was flabbergasted. Who was this woman? Never before had he seen Rose so ardent and forthright. And never before had he been quite so…so…mesmerized.

Mesmerized? he thought frantically. He and Rose were alone in a room together, with the door shut, and he was finding her as appealing as any woman he had ever met. This was not good.

He did not want to want Rose.

Standing up, he began pacing the room.

Certainly he wanted to like Rose, at least enough to be on friendly terms in their eventual marriage, but he did not want to have things complicated by any stronger feelings than that. And he certainly didn’t want her to think his feelings for her were any greater than they were or she might think their marriage was going to be one based on more than just mere friendship.

“I suppose you are wondering why I asked to see you?” Rose inquired suddenly. “I need your help with something I am working on.” She paused there and appeared to be gauging his reaction.

Simon turned to completely face her and put his hands on his hips. When she didn’t say anything more, he waved briskly to indicate she continue.

Rolling her eyes, Rose said, “I believe that your cousin Caleb killed his brother. I believe he used some kind of poison and I have recently come across some information that may allow us to prove that theory, but I need your help to figure out exactly how he did it.”

When Rose had finished, she looked at him with a “So there!” kind of expression and, again, Simon was in need of a chair.

He sat once more in the armchair next to Rose and said quietly, “What makes you believe Caleb killed Frederick?”

“Well,” Rose said, after filling him in on the books she had found, “the idea of toxins made me think about the night Frederick got sick; how he seemed fine one minute and then was…er, dead…the next.” Rose blushed and gave Simon a contrite look.

Simon waved off the unspoken apology and said, “But you don’t know for sure that Frederick was poisoned?”

“No, it’s just a theory,” Rose admitted.

“Is there something in the book that will help us prove it?”

“Not in the book, no, but with some special equipment and specific knowledge, one might be able to figure it out. And the author, Dr. Orfila, is here—in London! If anyone can help us prove that Caleb did indeed poison Frederick, it will be him.”

“All right,” Simon said slowly. “I have long wondered about the sudden death of Frederick and, frankly, Caleb’s possible involvement, so let’s say this Doctor…”

“Orfila.”

“Orfila can help us. What makes you think he will?”

“I don’t know if he will or not,” Rose confessed, “but what harm can it do to ask?” She gave Simon a pleading look.

“Very well, I’ll help however I can.”

“Oh good!” Rose said, jumping up to give Simon an obviously impulsive hug, before running to the door and flinging it open. Simon stared after her. Since when had their relationship become the hugging kind? And why did he seem to enjoy it so much?

“Aren’t you coming?” Rose asked from the doorway.

“Coming where?”

“To see the doctor, silly.”

“What doctor?”

Rose exhaled sharply and put her hand on her hips. “Dr. Orfila, Simon.”

“Oh, yes…Orfila,” Simon began, before adding confusedly, “We are going to see the doctor now?”

“No time like the present,” Rose fairly chirped, as she spun gracefully around and exited the room, leaving Simon to follow her.

“Er, Rose?” Simon said, after catching up with her in the front hall. “Are you sure Dr. Orfila will even see us this morning?”

“Oh, yes,” Rose said, looking up at Simon with a radiant smile. “He is expecting us.”

Simon raised his brow at that. “He is?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Rose murmured as she grabbed her reticule and glanced in the mirror. “I sent him a note last night asking to see him this morning.”

“You sent him a note?” Simon said.

“Yes, well…” Rose hedged. “I sent the note…however, he may have gotten the impression that, er, you had actually requested the meeting.” At this point, Rose stopped looking at Simon.

“Why, pray tell,” Simon said, crossing his arms deliberately, “would he think that?”

“Ah, probably because, I…uh…signed your name to the note?” Rose supplied, raising her eyes to his with chagrin.

“I see.”

“I had to, Simon,” Rose explained hurriedly. “I was quite sure that Dr. Orfila would refuse to see me if he knew I was a woman…but a man, he wouldn’t think twice about making an appointment with.”

“And if I had refused to come with you?” Simon asked.

“Oh, I knew you would accompany me. You hate Caleb more than anyone does…except perhaps Lord Pembroke,” Rose conceded.

Simon closed his eyes for a moment and felt rather pained. In the last few days it seemed his relationship with Rose had changed into something he didn’t recognize or understand. When had it become all right for Rose to make plans for him? And shouldn’t he be fighting this transition just a little more, rather than feeling somewhat relieved that she had stepped up to the role so efficiently and effectively?

When he opened his eyes, he looked at her wearily and said, “Fine, we will go see Dr. Orfila. However, in the future, kindly refrain from signing my name to any more of your missives.”

“Yes, of course,” Rose agreed readily, before adding thoughtfully, “Well, until we are married, right?”

Simon ignored the comment and all it implied. Instead he turned to open the door for Rose and in turn followed her outside into the chilly February air. It was there he saw the Warren family carriage sitting at the curb. Simon stopped mid-step and stared at the vehicle.

…

When Rose arrived beside the carriage and looked back at Simon, she was surprised to see he was just standing there, still on the porch. Edging her way back toward him, she said, “Er, Simon…is something wrong?”

“That’s one of your family’s carriages, is it not?” Simon asked, looking at it strangely.

Rose glanced back at the vehicle in bewilderment. “Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

Simon quit looking toward the street and instead pierced Rose with his steely gaze. “When exactly did you inform the driver that we would be leaving?”

“Oh…I, ah,” Rose stammered, “I may have mentioned something to Archie this morning about having it, er, ready, um, about now.” Rose looked at him confusedly before adding, “Would you rather we take your carriage instead?”

Simon cocked his head to one side. “Where is my carriage, Rose?”

“Oh!” Rose said, feeling much relieved to have finally determined the object of his concern. “Don’t worry about that, Simon…I told Archie to ask your driver to move it around back.” She smiled reassuringly.

“You told Archie to—” Simon started to say. Then he stopped and shook his head. “No, of course you did, why on earth would I think otherwise? Why on earth would I think that you would first ask me if I wanted to help you, then depending on my answer, why wouldn’t I think we would make a plan to meet this doctor together? Certainly I would rather you presume that I will go along and then arrange for my driver to drive my carriage around to the back of your house, and all the while a doctor who thinks I requested a visit is probably waiting on us as we speak!”

She sent an apologetic look to her driver and maid, who were standing next to the carriage witnessing the entire event (with some amusement, Rose noted wryly), before looking back at Simon. “Are you done now?”

Simon just looked at her in exasperation.

Sighing, Rose decided that Simon did have a point. She had been a bit presumptuous, but honestly, it never dawned on her that Simon would have a problem with any of her plans. He always seemed so happy and easy-going; she rather thought he would jump at the chance to go on a little adventure with her.

Although, from the moment he had arrived this morning, he had behaved in a thoroughly unpredictable way. Thoroughly unpredictable for him, that is. Rose had to admit that anyone else of her acquaintance probably would have thought she had overstepped her place, too.

Rose blew her hair off of her forehead in frustration. Now she was going to have to apologize to the man. “You’re right, Simon,” Rose said. “I should have talked to you about all this first and then made the arrangements with you. It was not my intention to disregard your feelings; I merely wanted to move on this information quickly. However, that is no excuse for so rudely taking control of the situation.”

…

Simon searched Rose’s face for any sign of mockery, but he could find none. It appeared she honestly felt contrite.