The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (19 page)

Rose put a hand on Nicola’s shoulder when she appeared ready to continue the battle. “It’s all right. I’ll stay.”

Nicola eyed her curiously. “You will?”

Julian drew back, his gaze never leaving her face. “You will?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t certain why she suddenly trusted him, but his cruel behavior this morning now made perfect sense. He was planning something dangerous and didn’t want her underfoot. She wasn’t usually this dense or stupid, but neither was she familiar with relations between men and women, having never had any relations whatsoever with any man until Julian.

His response to her last night had been real, only he couldn’t admit it to her yet. More important, she had to go with her instincts about his supposed relation with Valentina. His feigned adoration for the countess was just that… feigned.

Nicola, obviously not thinking beyond their friendship, threw her arms around Rose and hugged her fiercely. “Thank you, Rolf. I’m so glad you’ll stay. I’ll make amends. We all will. You’ll see. I’ll be the best friend to you… and I promise never to embroil you in anything so foolish again.”

“At least for another week,” Rose teased, hugging her back. She was still angry, but had always been terrible at holding grudges. Nicola and her family had done an awful thing to her, thinking to force Julian into marrying her instead of Valentina. But their hoped-for outcome wasn’t so awful. They understood Julian’s sense of honor and thought he would marry her.

Perhaps he would have, but she didn’t want him to offer marriage out of necessity, only out of love. She wouldn’t accept him any other way.

Did he love her? Last night it had felt as though he did, but men were good at faking such things. Loving her wasn’t quite the same thing as wanting to bed her. She knew he’d wanted to do that. No, indeed. Lust wasn’t at all the same thing as love.

But neither did he love Valentina. Had his family truly understood Julian, they would have seen into his heart and known he could never willingly choose someone like Valentina as his wife.

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and continued to hug Nicola, who was still openly sobbing tears of relief and contrition on her shoulder and giving it a thorough soaking. “All will be well, Nicola. You’ll see.”

Indeed, she and Nicola would repair their friendship. Julian would return to London and do whatever he needed to do concerning Valentina. Just not marry her.
Please don’t marry Valentina.

That was the greatest danger, that he would somehow be forced into an unwanted marriage with the countess to rescue… a friend? She still didn’t know any of the specifics.

She’d have to trust that Julian knew what he was doing.

And trust that he’d overlook her lies and schemes and forgive her.

And trust that he’d somehow fall in love with her even though she’d given him no reason to do so.

Her heart sank, for it all seemed so hopeless.

Julian eased back
in his seat as the carriage rattled toward Darnley Cottage. He wanted to grab Rose and kiss her soundly on the lips, for he’d noticed the precise moment when understanding had dawned upon her. She’d finally seen through his charade and appeared to trust him to do whatever necessary while in London even though she had no idea what it was that he needed to do.

Did she understand how much he truly cared for her?

Last night had been anything but a mere frolic for him. She’d called it magical. Indeed, it had been because she’d made it so, even for someone as experienced and cynical as he.

She trusted him.

But for how long? Trust had to be earned, and all the news she might hear this coming week would send her reeling. In truth, the news could get much worse before it got better. “Nicola, you’ll crush her if you continue to squeeze her so hard.”

“No, I won’t,” Nicola insisted, still soaking Rose’s slender shoulder with her tears. “Rolf is tougher than she looks. She has a wonderful inner strength and a forgiving heart.”

He hoped Rose was the forgiving sort. His plan was to go to the jewelers as soon as he returned to London. Everyone would think he was choosing a ring for Valentina.

Only he knew it would be for Rose.

Yet, Rose wouldn’t. Nor would he tell her in advance, not without Prinny’s permission, which there would be no time to obtain.

No, he’d simply have to make amends with Rose once the mission was over. He’d offer her the ring along with his heart.
Bloody nuisance.
How had he gone from questioning whether he would court her to deciding to offer marriage?

He’d keep offering no many how many times she flung the ring back in his face.

He’d keep offering no matter how long it took her to accept him.

Even if it took him into his dotage.

An Emory loved once and forever.

No one but Rose would ever wear his ring.

“I WAS BEGINNING
to think you’d forgotten about me,” Valentina purred, greeting Julian when he called upon her shortly after his return to London. He’d stopped by his townhouse long enough to change out of his travel-stained clothes and bathe, and then he’d completed one more errand before venturing to her residence.

Her arms snaked up Julian’s chest to draw him closer for a possessive kiss. He tried to imagine that he was kissing Rose, but failed miserably. The only saving grace was that Valentina was as insincere as he was and didn’t particularly care how he felt. Nor did she truly understand love or passion, so how could she know that his passion had been faked all along?

A greater difficulty would present itself later this evening when they returned to her bedchamber after a night at the gaming hells. Arousal couldn’t be faked.

Nor could he dismiss his own nature, the traits of loyalty and faithfulness to the woman he loved. It was of no moment that Rose had no notion of how he felt. His actions, a duty for the sake of the Crown, still felt like a betrayal of his principles. “My love, I rushed back to your side the moment I settled my family at the cottage. You knew I’d be gone for a few days.”

She was never the understanding sort. “You ought to have returned sooner. Or did Nicola’s pretty friend delay you?”

Damn.
“My uncle delayed me. He wasn’t feeling well. In truth, he’s been ailing for weeks now and I was concerned that he’d taken a turn for the worse and needed to be brought back to London. Only the best doctors will do for him.”

She stroked his jaw. “The earl? But you returned alone.”

Julian nodded. “I couldn’t wait to race back to your side.”

“And how was dear Lord Darnley when you left him?”

“Much improved.”

His stomach churned at the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. He would inherit the earldom upon his uncle’s death. Once he was earl, did Valentina truly believe he’d make her his countess? She’d already duped one earl into marrying her and he’d died under suspicious circumstances. Of course, she’d been with friends in Bath when her husband had cocked up his toes, and later she had done a commendable job of pretending to be the distraught widow.

At the time, no one had suspected her involvement in Lord Deschanel’s death because she had little to gain, but Julian, along with others in Prinny’s elite group of special agents, knew better now. By killing off her husband, she’d gained a foothold in society and a manor house conveniently close to one of the most important shipping lanes along the English Channel. Toss in a smuggler’s cove or two, and she’d set herself up quite nicely to welcome Boney to England if and when he chose to invade.

“When does your family intend to return to London?” Although she casually tossed off the question, it was obvious there was nothing casual in her bearing and she was quite on edge. Was something important about to happen?

He shrugged. “They’ll send word when they grow bored listening to bullfrogs croak among the willows. Perhaps by the end of this week or next.”

“Will your sister’s friend remain with them all the while?”

Damn again.
Why was she asking about Rose? “The two are inseparable. I expect that she will.” He took Valentina into his arms and began to nuzzle her neck. “Why bother with the girl? Who cares if she stays or goes?”

Valentina drew away. “She’s very pretty.”

“You’re jealous, my love!” He shook his head and forced a laugh. “You needn’t be. The chit comes from a family of merchants. They’re barely fit to go about in society. She has no polish, and do you know that she spends her days buried up to her elbows in clay?” He took hold of Valentina’s smooth hands. “I want a lady, not a rustic bumpkin for my wife.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re thinking of taking a wife?”

He returned to nuzzling her neck. “Yes, you know I am. Should I be angry that you’ve had me followed ever since I returned to London? How else could you know that I’d been to the jewelers?”

“You wound me, Chatham.” She pursed her lips in a practiced pout. “Who said anything about jewelers? Not I. You’re the one who mentioned it.”

“And you, my love, are avidly staring at the pocket of my jacket, obviously aware of the little box tucked in it.”

“As it happens, one of my friends noticed you entering Asprey’s and rushed over here to tell me.” She had stiffened slightly, enough to confirm that she was indeed having him followed by a hired ruffian or a Bow Street runner, although he didn’t think she’d risk hiring a runner for they weren’t the sort who could be made to vanish without a trace if the task turned sour.

Some runners had connections among the Upper Crust, not to mention among their own business circle, so if a runner suddenly disappeared, questions would be asked. No one would ask after the scum who haunted the dockside.

“Oh? Which friend?” He’d been on alert even at Darnley Cottage and didn’t think anyone had followed him there or seen him alone with Rose in the hunting lodge. A lurking stranger would have been noticed at once on Darnley property or in the nearby village. Someone would have reported this unknown person to him.

The Cotswolds was nothing like crowded London, where a scoundrel could be hired to follow a gent and never be noticed. Still, his decision to keep Rose away from London gave him pause. He feared for his uncle as well, although Valentina would not be so foolish as to poison him now, not before she was securely married to Julian and able to call herself Viscountess Chatham.

It would never happen.

“Valentina?” he prodded when she didn’t immediately answer. “Which friend?”

“Why should it matter to you? He isn’t an acquaintance of yours.”

“A man? What connection is he to you?” This was the opening he was hoping for. “Can I not leave London even for one day without your entertaining another gentleman? Do you not love me?”

“Of course I do! How can you think anyone else holds my affection?”

He moved away and feigned agitation by striding to the window and peering out of it. “Is the bounder out there now? Waiting for me to leave? What have you offered him? Your body?” He turned back to glare at her. “Or has he claimed your heart?”

“Really, Chatham! You go too far.” She appeared more frustrated than hurt. “You’re the one I chose. There’s no one else but you.”

He returned to her side and took her by the shoulders. “Prove it. You know my feelings for you, how ardently and completely I worship you. But I have yet to believe those feelings are returned even in part. Yes, I bought the ring, but it signifies nothing. Is your heart pledged to me, Valentina? I know you’re holding something back. What is it?”

“Don’t be a fool. What would I have to hide from you?” Her eyes were now blazing, a sign of her anger. Despite that blaze, she was still a cold-hearted—Damn, Rose was right. The woman sucked all warmth from a room.

“You tell me. I won’t move forward without the truth.” His fingers tensed on her shoulders to emphasize his earnestness, then he gentled his hold. “What is it, my love? Are you in trouble of some sort? I’ll protect you, whatever it is. You can trust me. You can tell me anything.”

“Get out, Chatham. I don’t want your ring. If you don’t trust me, then I’ll have nothing more to do with you.” She tossed her chin up imperiously and motioned toward the door. “Get out now!”

Damn, had he just blown a year’s worth of investigation? “Valentina, please. Forget what I just said. I want you. No one else can have you.”

“You ought to have thought of that before you insulted me! Go! I’m through with you. Cry on that Farthingale girl’s shoulder for all I care.”

He backed away slowly toward the door, cursing himself for overplaying his hand. Did she suspect something was amiss? Had someone warned her that she was under investigation concerning Napoleon? Or was she merely in a jealous fit because she suspected him of liking Rose? There was malice behind her cruel smile. He saw the venom and spite in her eyes as he backed away, but he remained in character, still feigning the desolate lover, for whatever it was worth.

Nothing now, he feared.

What had he just done? Somehow turned Valentina’s vicious attention on Rose?

He’d put an end to the investigation right now.