The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (23 page)

Acting on impulse, Rose dropped her sketches and pencil and scrambled to her feet. “Nicola, I need your help in setting out the picnic lunch!”

Her friend turned upon hearing her shout and started toward her with a shake of her head. “Are you hungry already? It’s early yet.”

“I’m famished,” Rose lied, waving her forward and unable to shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen to Nicola if she didn’t return to her side immediately. It was the oddest sensation, completely illogical, but she was desperate to have her friend back on the blanket as though the square patch of cloth spread out under the shade tree was a magical safe harbor for both of them.

She held her breath, only releasing it when Nicola reached the blanket and knelt beside the picnic basket. “What’s the matter, Rolf? You look ashen, as though you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Rose laughed shakily and sank down beside her. “You’ll think me mad, but I had a sudden, impending sense of doom. I didn’t like that you’d strolled so far away from us. You’re not a child, but a sudden dread washed over me, and I needed to bring you back to me urgently. Silly, of course.”

“Not at all.” Nicola threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely. “I understand perfectly. We’re friends forever and you just realized that we must remain friends when we return to London. Your heart was speaking to you and telling you that you must forgive me.”

Rose laughed. “Perhaps.”

Nicola released her and eased back. “There’s no ‘perhaps’ about it. You and I were physically standing apart, but your metaphorical fear was that we would remain apart as friends. Do you see?”

“Odd as it seems, I do,” Rose admitted, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Very well, we are friends once more. You’re forgiven, but no more dragging me into your schemes. In fact, no more scheming at all. Promise me.”

“Gladly!” But Nicola slumped her shoulders. “However, that means Julian will be lost to us.”

Rose reached out to pat her hand. “Trust him.” She turned to study Julian, wondering whether she had faith enough in him to know he’d come to the right decision about his frosty countess before it was too late.

“Trust him,” she repeated with a little less confidence, “but perhaps I was a bit hasty about no more schemes. Your brother’s awfully dense.”

Nicola rolled her eyes. “Dense as a block of granite, for certain.”

“Agreed.” Rose nibbled her lip. “What harm can there be in one more scheme? But that will be the end of it.”

“Unless we require another,” Nicola added hopefully.

Rose groaned. No, they couldn’t meddle more than they already had. They shouldn’t meddle even one more time, but it was only the once and they couldn’t allow Julian to march down the wedding aisle to his doom, could they? After that, they’d leave him to his fate. He was a grown man and capable of making his own decisions.

She intended to say no. She would say no. She and Nicola had to stop meddling in Julian’s life. “Heaven help me, but yes. Whatever is needed to keep him out of her wicked clutches.”

JULIAN NOTICED A
metallic glint coming from the copse of trees across the stream only a short distance from where he and his companion stood fishing. “Did you see it, John?”

“Yes, it’s probably nothing. A gardener walking with a shovel over his shoulder, no doubt.” Although by his expression, John obviously didn’t believe his own words. “Dash it, now Nicola’s wandered off. I can’t protect her from here. She’s standing too far away from me.”

Julian arched an eyebrow. “Let me worry about my sister. Rose is your assignment.”

John snorted. “But Rose is closer to you and Nicola’s closest to me. Damn, did you see? Another glint, this time further downstream. He’s moving toward your sister.”

Julian reached for the pistol hidden in his boot, noting that John was about to do the same, although neither would shoot before making certain this stranger posed an imminent threat. It wouldn’t do to shoot an innocent local whose only crime was to sneak a peek at the earl’s niece.

Rose’s sudden call to Nicola seemed to alarm whoever was lurking in the copse and send him running off. He and John lowered their pistols, both of which had been aimed at the stranger and ready to fire before he could get off a shot. “Bloody good fortune,” John muttered as Nicola hurried toward Rose, blissfully unaware of the peril now averted.

Julian nodded, his gaze fixed on Rose. “How did she know?” The girls were now kneeling beside the picnic basket, hugging each other and unaware that he and John had weapons drawn. As he tucked his pistol back in his boot, Julian caught snatches of their conversation, which consisted of an exchange of vows to be friends forever. Lord, the pair were such innocents! He hoped they would never change.

“She couldn’t have known.” John stowed his pistol as well. “You think she did?”

“The girl has good instincts.”

“Shall I go after the bounder?”

Julian frowned and then shook his head. “No, as you said, the man was probably harmless. Our poles are floating away.” He waded into the shallow water to retrieve them before joining his sister and Rose. A summer breeze blew through the trees and stirred the stream currents. He noticed the gentle sway of branches and heard the rustle of their silvery green leaves. Nothing amiss.

“The fish aren’t biting today,” he said when Rose cast him a quizzical glance that got him wondering again whether she’d noticed the danger and acted quickly to rescue his sister. That sort of cleverness took training. No, it must have been a matter of chance.

“Is that what you were doing? Fishing?” She still had her big blue eyes trained on him. Her mouth was pursed and she was nibbling her lower lip, something she often did when unsettled.

“Of course. Pole. Bait. What else do you think we were doing?” Julian groaned inwardly. Breaking up a spy ring was hard. Resisting Rose’s kissable mouth was even harder. Diverting her suspicions would be harder still. He loved that she was clever, but that agile mind of hers was also a great inconvenience to his assignment. He changed the topic before she had a chance to respond. “Have you completed any sketches? Let me see.”

He reached behind her to grab her sketchbook, ignoring the sudden jolt to his bodily organs the moment he grazed her soft shoulder. He was used to these heart-stopping jolts to his system by now. The only problem was they had grown stronger instead of abating. The more he knew Rose, the more desperately he wanted her.

She blushed as he inspected her sketches. “I’ve only done bits and pieces. They’re merely rough drawings of your eyes. Your mouth. Different aspects of your face in profile. They’re early attempts. Far from perfect.”

“These are excellent.” Pride for her swelled within his chest. “I knew they would be.” Pride and a yearning to protect her from the envy and petty jealousies she would face as a woman competing among men. She’d already experienced their nastiness and not been daunted. But how many times did her work need to be destroyed before she gave up? He wouldn’t allow it ever to happen again. “Truly splendid, Rose.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

All the more reason he had to be the man to claim her. She needed to flourish and could only do so in proper surroundings, with a husband who respected her talent and would stand beside her as she fought for proper recognition.

Bloody nuisance.

He couldn’t seem to think of Rose without wanting her in his life forever.

Rose was aptly named, for she was the most beautiful blossom in any garden of flowers, her petals vibrant and her colors so intricate and delicate they stole one’s breath away.

“Quite talented,” John said, studying them as well. “My aunt, Lady Bainbridge, will be interested in your work. I’ll introduce you to her when we return to London.”

Julian coughed to stifle his unreasonable anger. John was merely following his orders to protect Rose. That Julian wanted to pound the stuffing out of him whenever he came near the girl was a ridiculous response, but he felt the urge anyway.

Rose poured him a glass of lemonade. “Why the dark scowl? Are you all right?”

Julian ignored the question.

“Lord Randall,” Rose said, turning away from Julian with a sigh. “Nicola and I would love to meet Lady Bainbridge. I’ll ask my mother to invite you all to tea at our home once we’ve settled back in London, then you can inspect my work. I’ve done portraits for most of my family.”

“Sounds delightful. My aunt and I look forward to it.”

After devouring the food set out for him, for it was better to keep his hands occupied with food than give in to the urge to pound his fists into his friend’s face, Julian returned to fishing. John remained with Rose and Nicola, his manner irritatingly charming, for the three of them were chatting and laughing as though this outing was a lark.

Perhaps it was to the girls, but not to him. Nor should it be for John.

He was being unreasonable again, for John was an experienced agent of the Crown and ever on alert. John’s assignment was to protect Rose, and Julian knew he would do so even at risk to his own life.

He glanced at Rose as he cast his line into the water. She had caught the attention of some very nasty agents and Julian was truly concerned for her safety. He needed to draw their attention away from her. In truth, John was doing his part in playing the attentive suitor. This ruse was the best way to keep Rose safe. He was the fool for having a problem with his own plan.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off Rose.

Or keep his heart detached.

But he had to.

The person across the stream may have been an innocent passerby, but Julian doubted it. He was certain Valentina’s agents had followed him here as well as trailed him around London. It was imperative to keep those blackguards away from Rose. Having John pretend to court her was the best solution. But could Julian feign disinterest once they were back in London?

What if Rose decided that she preferred John to him?

Bloody nuisance.

“The ladies wish to return to the cottage. I’ll escort them,” John said with a grin, enjoying his assignment far too well. “Wouldn’t want to interfere with your fishing.”

Julian clenched his jaw, knowing his friend was teasing him, purposely goading him now that he believed their lurker had run off. But the man hadn’t run far and now appeared to be back. Julian noticed a movement once again amid the lush foliage. “John,” he said, discreetly keeping his gaze on the copse.

“Got it.”

Before either of them had the chance to move into position, Rose accidentally dropped her pencils. “Oh, drat.” She rushed forward to gather them before they rolled down the bank into the water.

“Rose, get back!”

Two shots rang out as Julian shouted his warning and lunged for Rose, managing to pull her down onto the soft grass and cover her with his body. The first shot whizzed overhead and lodged harmlessly in the trunk of the shade tree. The second shot struck his arm with an unmistakably hot sting as the ball of metal tore through his flesh.

Fortunately, it probably was only a graze. No bone struck, he hoped.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John grab Nicola, lift her into his arms, and deposit her behind the stone wall separating the cottage garden from the stream. “Stay down, brat,” he commanded with a growl and took off after the assailant.

Julian intended to do the same, but not before he made certain Rose was unharmed, for the bullet might have struck her after it tore through his arm. “Rose, are you hurt?”

All his years of training flew out of his head as rage overcame him. He wanted revenge and didn’t give a damn if Prinny would have him clapped in irons for the rest of his days. He was going to take down Valentina’s operation the moment he returned to London.

They’d lose the man at the top, the elusive spy in Prinny’s inner circle, but how effective could the man be without his web of agents to deliver English military secrets to Napoleon?

“No damage done,” Rose said with a grunt, finally responding. “However, I’d appreciate your getting off me.” More grunts as she fought to catch her breath. “Your body is big and it’s crushing me.”

He rolled off her at once. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You saved my life.” She put a hand on his shoulder and then drew it away with a gasp. Her palm was covered in blood. “You’re injured!”

“Just a bee sting. Nothing more.”

“Julian,” she said in an agonized whisper. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Rose stood in
the Darnley kitchen, quietly watching while Julian’s aunt tended to his injury. He’d removed his shirt upon his aunt’s command and sat stiff and impatient in one of the hard wooden chairs as the adept older woman fussed over him. He’d also removed about a half dozen weapons that were hidden on his person, and those were now set out on one of the kitchen tables within arm’s reach of him.

Knives, pistols, and a garrote.

“Rose, hand me that damp cloth.” Lady Darnley pointed to the clean white linen cloth and small basin filled with warm water that were atop the oak table beside her.

Nodding, she quickly dipped the cloth in the water, twisted the excess moisture out of it, and handed it to Lady Darnley. “Thank you, my dear.”