The Clarendon Rose (21 page)

“Stop looking at me as if I’m insane.
 
It’s surely not as bad as all that.
 
And this way, you may rest assured that it’s not just the endlessly charming lure of your estate management abilities that I can’t resist, delightful though they are.
 
I do like you.
 
And, if you want the truth, I’ve desired you from the moment I found you, sleeping in that chair in the library.”

“I see,” she replied, her voice faint.

His smile faded.
 
“I’ll be honest with you, Tina.
 
It’s true that I’m wild about you at the moment, but I’ll also admit that it’s probably nothing more than infatuation.
 
I don’t want to make any more promises I can’t keep, and I don’t really believe in all that love and forever after nonsense—not for me, at any rate.
 
I haven’t the temperament for it.
 
I don’t want you entering into this marriage with any misconceptions.
 
But as I say, I do like you and I think we’ll rub along very nicely, even if the fire does burn out after a while.”

Tina swallowed hard.
 
“You still can’t marry me.
 
My parents—“

“Were of perfectly respectable birth.”

“Your Grace, my father was dishonored and took his own life.
 
My mother married a
servant
.
 
I grew up in a rookery.
 
I am not the appropriate sort of person for you to marry.”
 
Surely this should all be self-evident?

“I do believe, Miss Merriweather, that one of the prerogatives of being a duke involves being able to marry whomever I damn well please. Do you expect me to go in for one of those ornamental creatures who can barely manage to string together an intelligible sentence?
 
Or perhaps one of those marriages of convenience with someone who comes complete with a breeding certificate so I may be assured that my heirs are of the finest pedigree?”

He shook his head.
 
“I like to think I learned from my father’s mistake in that regard at least.
 
My parents’ marriage was a disaster.
 
At least if we get on well, then we can enjoy a warm friendship.
 
And you are better qualified than any other woman to share in the running the Clarendon holdings.
 
Come Tina, consider it at least.
 
This way, you’ll be able to keep your hand in with all that.
 
You’re so damned good at it, after all—and I have much to learn.”

“Not all that much, Your Grace.”
 
But she was wavering.
 
If he didn’t feel her background was of any concern, then could she legitimately worry about it?
 

And of course, if they married, then all those fantasies in which she had indulged with wistful desire could become reality.
 
She would also be able to return to her beloved estate.
 
Even these short days away had felt like an exile.
 

She was frowning down at her hands, lost in her thoughts, when she felt his finger slip under her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him.
 
He wore a slight smile, his expression hopeful.
 
“Please, Tina?”

It was the last straw.
 
The residual resistance inside her deflated and she let out a soft sigh.
 
“All right, Your Grace.
 
I’ll marry you.”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a soft chuckle and the sound of clapping hands.
 
“How splendid!
 
I’ve hardly dared breathe all this time, as I waited—and, I confess, hoped—that you would allow yourself to be persuaded, Miss Merri.
 
Now perhaps we should all sit down and I’ll have Meg make us some tea.
 
From the sounds of it, you are both in need of some, and I do declare that I would not say no to a cup myself.”

Eyes wide, Tina felt the heat surging up to her face as she realized she had completely forgotten about Miss Smye.
 
A glance at Clarendon showed that his color was also considerably heightened as he scrutinized the mounds of ruffles in search of the speaker.

She looked at her employer, who was in the process of rising from her chair and bounding over to the two of them.
 
“Miss Smye, I’m so sorry—“

Miss Smye twinkled at them.
 
“Oh don’t be, my dear Miss Merri.
 
It was all quite delightful, though you did give me a moment of worry there when you started demanding he present reasons why you should marry him,” she added, glancing up at the duke.
 
“After such a trial, I’m sure you’re ready for some refreshments—Your Grace?”

“You need not trouble yourself, Miss Smye, is it?”

“Indeed, indeed.
 
Smythe-Perkins, actually, but that’s just so long and doesn’t roll off the tongue at all!
 
Now that it’s all settled between you two, do sit down, won’t you?
 
And of course you must have tea, Your Grace!
 
Then I can tell all the neighbors that I’ve hosted a duke, here at Rose Cottage!
 
And Miss Merriweather, you sly one!
 
Here I was trying to formulate all manner of matches for you, when all this time, you had this excellent one up your sleeve.
 
So to speak, I mean.
 
Though now, of course, I’ll have to look for a new companion.
 
Nonetheless, I’m delighted with how this all worked out!
 
But I must be off to speak to Meg about the tea.
 
We may even have some little cakes somewhere—remember those charming little cakes from yesterday, Miss Merri?
 
I must see if there are any of those left…” she muttered, bustling out of the parlor.
 

“There’s really no need—“ the duke began, but she was already gone.
 

Tina let out a shaky breath, still utterly mortified.
 
“I am so sorry about that, Your Grace!
 
I really—“

“For God’s sake, Tina, could you at least
try
to call me Clarendon, now that we’re bloody well engaged?”

That night, sleep eluded Tina as she tossed and turned in her lumpy bed at Rose Cottage.
 
She would be leaving for the manor on the morrow if all went according to plan.
 

According to plan.
 
She shifted to her side and curled her body into itself.
 
The duke’s appearance today still seemed unreal.
 
It was such an abrupt turnaround of her plans and expectations that she still couldn’t believe her change in circumstance.
 
But, it would appear everything was arranged.

“I shall hire a post chaise to take you back to the manor, while I return to London, so I can inform my brother and my mother of the latest developments,” the duke told her after the tea had been served and he had taken Tina for a turn about Miss Smye’s prized rose garden.
 
“I will also set about obtaining a special license.
 
That way, we can be married shortly after my return to the manor.”

Tina frowned.
 
“Surely we can simply have the banns read and wait.
 
Why such haste?”

Clarendon shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Had you hoped for a large wedding, with dozens of attendants and hundreds of guests, Tina?”

“Heavens no,” she replied, genuinely horrified at the thought.
 
But, of course, such would be expected for the marriage of a duke, she realized, second thoughts about this union assailing her with renewed vigor.
 

“Posting the banns will take us out of the deep mourning period for Father.
 
No-one will question a quiet, private ceremony if we marry immediately.”

At Tina’s raised eyebrow, he made an impatient sound.
 
“All right, yes, they will wonder why we married with such haste,” he conceded.
 
“But they will not question why we had such a small and subdued ceremony.
 
I’m hoping to get this done with as little pomp and circumstance as possible.”

“I agree.
 
I would certainly prefer to keep things small.”
 

“The more time passes, the greater the likelihood of inflated expectations.”
 

Tina nodded slowly.
 
“Yes, I do see what you mean.
 
A special license and an imminent ceremony will allow us to devote our energies to more important things.”

“Exactly so.”
 
He gave a dazzling grin that set her heart pumping furiously.

Now, Tina sighed as she recalled that smile of his.
 
Sitting up, she shook her head, then turned and plumped her pillow before lying back down.
 
She pulled her blankets up to her chin.
 
It was all happening so fast.
 
Too fast.

She loved him, and this latest change in circumstance seemed too good to be true.
 
Which, as her mother loved to point out, meant that it probably was too good to be true.
 
But at least Tina knew the caveats up front.
 

He has admitted that his infatuation is likely to fade with time.
 
But marrying me will mean he has someone to help him run the estates and the household.
 
I’m not entering this with expectations of anything more.
 
And we do get along well enough, which means we have more in our favor than many other society couples who have made modest successes of their unions.

Yet, some foolish part of her longed for his love—without it, the marriage felt wrong.
 

I love him.
 
That should be enough.
 

Her expression firmed, assuming a look of intense determination.
 
I will make it enough.
 
Our marriage will be a success.
 
We will like and respect each other, and though I will never burden him with the true depth of my feelings, I will bask in the pleasure of being with him.

Yet, even as she sank into the warmth of sleep, her new resolve fixed in her mind, a part of her still questioned the rightness of a union between a handsome duke and the plain, spinsterish offspring of disgraced parents.

“A Mr. Lester Fitzwilliam is here, Miss Tina.
 
He says he is an old friend of His Grace’s.”

“I suppose it’s to be expected that I’ve never heard of the fellow,” Tina said to Miss Smye, who had accompanied her back to the manor, ostensibly as a chaperone.
 
But Tina had really wanted the dear woman’s chatty company as a distraction from her own uncertainties.
 

They had only just settled in for the afternoon, having arrived at the manor that same day.
 

Tina smiled at the butler.
 
“Do show him in, Soames.
 
We haven’t been introduced, but I’m sure the duke will be sorry to have missed him.”

Mr. Fitzwilliam proved to be a wiry, dapper man of indeterminate age.
 
He was slight and balding, with pleasant features and an erect carriage that bespoke a military background.
 
His immaculate clothing bore none of the dust and creases of a long journey on horseback or by coach.

After tea had been ordered and the initial greetings completed, Mr. Fitzwilliam smiled winningly at the two women.

“I am indeed sorry to have missed His Grace, for I had wanted to convey my condolences on his loss.
 
He was one of the men who really changed my life back during the old army days, you know.”

“Indeed?”

Mr. Fitzwilliam nodded.
 
“Turned things around for me completely.
 
And, I often realize, His Grace is largely responsible for making me the man I am today.”

“How so?” Tina asked, intrigued.

“Shall we say, I had taken a bit of a wrong turn along the road of life.
 
His Grace did his best to rectify that, and in so doing became one of the primary causes of my transformation.”
 
He took a sip of tea, then leaned forward.
 
“Tell me, has he been enjoying my roses?”

Miss Smye perked up at the mention of roses.

“So you’re the one behind the flowers!”

Mr. Fitzwilliam nodded, beaming.
 
“I breed ‘em, you see.”

“How perfectly delightful!” Miss Smye exclaimed before Tina could comment.
 
“I adore roses, Mr. Fitzwilliam!
 
Isn’t it just thrilling that so many new breeds are emerging?
 
I always look forward to getting my latest copy of the
Rosarian Gazette
, just so I can find out all the latest developments—and the names of all the newest roses that have been created, of course!”

Mr. Fitzwilliam beamed at her.
 
“How wonderful, Miss Smye!
 
So then you might even have heard of me.”

“Your creations are exquisite, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” Tina said with a smile.
 
“I only saw the Enshaw Rose, but it was magnificent.”

“I’m glad you liked it, Miss Merriweather.
 
And has His Grace also been enjoying them?”

Tina tried not to hesitate as she recalled the duke’s irritation at the mysterious sender.
 
“He made sure the gardener received each of the flowers and the packets of seeds you enclosed.
 
I’m sure we’ll be well on our way to having a lovely rose garden in no time.”