The Viscount's Rose (The Farthingale Series Book 5) (24 page)

She smiled wanly at the efficient older woman, but her hands were violently shaking and she doubted she’d fooled anyone.

She’d never seen anyone shot before, and despite Julian’s stoic expression, she knew that this was more than a mere flesh wound. If he was in pain, he refused to show it. Rose wanted to appear brave as well, but she was crying on the inside and her stomach was twisted in knots.

So was her heart. Julian could have been killed!

She wanted to throw her arms around him and weep on his shoulder—the uninjured one—and feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around her.

“You’re going to need stitches, Julian,” his aunt muttered, cleaning the blood off his arm. “Rose, dear. Dip the cloth in water and continue to cleanse his wound. I’ll return in a moment with needle and thread.”

Rose swallowed hard.

She clutched the edge of the table as her head began to spin. “Yes, of course.”

Ordinarily, a young lady of good breeding would not have been permitted to remain alone with any man, much less one who’d removed his shirt. However, the Emory family, with her instigation and participation, had already behaved so scandalously that this new situation seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary and quite tame in comparison.

Propriety had long since been trampled. She’d already seen Julian in this state of undress and he’d seen her in a worse state.

Besides, he had saved her life and she was not going to leave his side until he was safely on the mend.

Julian studied her intently as she dipped the blood-soaked cloth into the basin and gagged as the water turned red. “Rose,” he said in a gentle murmur, “sit down. I’ll do it.”

“I’m fine. Truly.” Her stomach was still churning and her head still spinning, but she refused to admit that she was having any difficulty. A few inches to the left and the shot would have killed him… or her, if that was truly the villain’s intent.

Why would anyone want to kill her? She understood about the pottery ruffians wishing to scare her, but murder? These men were artisans for the most part, not cutthroats. Or was she wrong about that as well? They had proved themselves to be knaves and scoundrels.

Julian drew one of the kitchen stools closer to him. “Come sit by me. You look as though you’re about to faint.”

She was indeed. He must have noticed that she’d rested her hip against the table’s edge for support. “No, I’m quite fit.” She cleared her throat. “But I shall sit beside you. The better to tend to you.”

Her hands were still shaking as she took the offered seat and then raised one hand to his shoulder and began to wipe away the remaining blood around the wound. “Twice now,” he muttered.

She looked up at him. “What?”

He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “You’re hardly two months into your debut season and already two attempts have been made on your life.”

“I know.” She emitted a long, ragged breath. “And I’ve spent a night alone with a man—you. And I’ve behaved wantonly with a man—again you. My parents will be so disappointed.”

He laughed mirthlessly. “They love you. They’ll be worried, not angry, and will want to keep you safe. John’s tracking the blackguard now. We’ll soon find out what this latest intrigue is about.”

“Do you think it’s more of Sir Milton Aubrey’s mischief?”

He pursed his lips in displeasure. “It’s a possibility, but I doubt it. The man fled England in abject terror after I had a little talk with him.”

She arched an eyebrow as she gently dabbed the cloth around his wound. “That must have been quite some chat you gentlemen had.”

“It was.” There was an icy glint in his eyes and Rose suddenly realized that he must have frightened the wits out of Sir Milton. These pottery merchants were rough, but apparently Julian, despite his outward polish, could be even rougher when the occasion called for it. “If he isn’t behind this latest incident, then who is?”

“I don’t know.”

Her eyes suddenly rounded in surprise. “But you have your suspicions. Is Valentina somehow involved? She’s dangerous, isn’t she? This hold she has over you has nothing to do with courtship. She isn’t merely jealous and keeping you for herself.”

Julian glanced at the weapons on display before her. “Rose, I’d tell you more if I could. I’m not at liberty.”

“Will John have answers for me? Or is he also not at liberty to speak? Nicola’s anxiously awaiting him by the front entry. I know he’s a hunter and no doubt an excellent tracker, but this isn’t merely a deer or wild boar he’s after.”

“He knows to be careful.”

“What else does he know? There appears to be a side of you gentlemen that none of us has ever seen.”

“Nor will you ever,” Julian said, intending to put her at ease, but his assurance was having the opposite effect.

Her eyes rounded in alarm. What was he involved in? “The assailant is carrying weapons. Are you quite certain John will be safe?”

“He’s one of the best.”

She took no pains to hide her frustration. “One of the best at what?”

“I’ll go after him once I’m properly stitched up.” He glanced once more at the weapons on the table. “He won’t come to harm. He knows what he’s doing.”

“You seem awfully confident in his abilities. I suppose I ought to be as well, especially if he’s carrying an armory on his person just as you are.” She lightly pressed the cloth to his arm in the hope of stemming the flow of blood. Thankfully, it was slowing. “Tell me more about Valentina.”

He merely blinked.

“Because I realize now that you don’t love her. I don’t think you ever have. In truth, you don’t like her at all. You can’t possibly. However, you need to remain close to her for some reason.”

“Stop, Rose.”

She frowned, although she remained more frustrated than angry. “Still won’t tell me what all this is about? Why do men always believe they’re protecting the fairer sex by keeping them ignorant of what is really going on? Let me assure you that you’re not. We’re much safer understanding the danger and doing our best to avoid it.”

He caressed her cheek. “I agree, but I still can’t tell you. Trying to uncover the truth on your own will only place you in greater danger. I don’t have the resources available to protect you.”

“What makes you think I can’t protect myself?”

“Are you daft? There have been two attempts on your life already.” He stiffened his spine as he sat up sharply. “Protect yourself? Leave that to me. As soon as we’re back in London I’m hiring Bow Street runners to watch you from sunup to sundown and all the hours in between. And you’re not to go anywhere near Valentina.”

Rose did not appreciate being called daft, but she’d gotten some useful information out of Julian at last. “So this latest bit of mischief was her doing?”

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t? But you don’t love her. Please tell me that you don’t.”

His gaze turned tender. “What do you think?”

She resumed lightly wiping the blood off his arm. “I can only say what I wish, and that is to fervently hope you don’t love her.” His lips tipped up at the corners in the hint of a smile. It was all the encouragement she needed to continue, although a wiser girl might not have spoken at all. Keeping one’s mouth shut was never a Farthingale strength. In any event, she wanted Julian to know what was in her heart. “I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said in a whisper. “I love you with my whole heart.”

She paused to give him the opportunity to respond in kind, but he didn’t say a word. Indeed, he looked stricken.

That wasn’t promising at all.

“You don’t have to love me,” she continued, her heart sinking as he remained silent. “In truth, I don’t expect that you do, nor do I expect you ever to entertain the notion of marrying me after all the trouble I’ve caused you. I’m sincerely sorry for that. However, I wish that you might one day change your mind. The point is, loving me isn’t nearly as important as your not loving
her
.”

His lips slowly turned upward at the corners once more in an almost smile. “Are you quite through pouring out your heart to me?”

She nodded. “I could go on, but it would only be a repetition of what I just said. Unfortunately, we Farthingales tend to run on at the mouth when we’re uncomfortable and this admission has made me most uncomfortable. Awkward, really. Quite humiliating, truth be told. Especially if you don’t reciprocate my feelings.”

She licked her lips. “And I suspect you do not. You’ve made it painfully obvious by the look of shock on your face. You have a very handsome face.”
Groan.
“Just order me to stop talking and I will. I can’t seem to stop on my own. But you’re a viscount and—”

He kissed her on the lips with exquisite urgency, his hand lightly poised on the back of her head to ease her closer and keep her from backing away, as if she would ever do that. She never would, for she ached to be in his arms and hungered for his kisses, eager to accept as many as he was willing to bestow on her.

She loved the possessive warmth of his mouth against hers, loved his heat and coiled tension. His kisses were never prim. There was always an undercurrent of danger, as though he were a beast on a fragile tether that might break at any moment and unleash his wild passion.

He appeared about to intensify the kiss when he suddenly eased away with a soft, laughing moan. “Bloody bad timing. We have an audience.”

“What?” She followed his gaze and found Lady Darnley standing by the kitchen door, her mouth agape.

Rose drew away with a start, almost tumbling off her stool. She would have fallen if Julian hadn’t caught her by the waist to steady her. It escaped no one’s notice that he did not release her once she’d steadied. She tried to pass along a silent hint that he ought to let her go, first gazing at his arm that circled her waist and then discreetly gazing up at him in silent pleading not to make matters worse. All she managed to do was make herself dizzy by shifting her eyeballs rapidly back and forth, a gesture that he was clearly ignoring.

He grinned at her. One of those conquering warrior, smug sort of grins that she would have found irritating if he weren’t every bit as brave and handsome as that grin conveyed. “I ought to go,” she said in rush, now thoroughly humiliated.

“Stay, Rose.” Julian continued to hold her by the waist, his grasp gentle even though she was halfheartedly struggling to break free. “I don’t want you out of my sight.”

She would have been elated had he made the request because he loved her, but it was a command given merely in order to protect her. He’d kissed her to shut her up. He wasn’t besotted by her beauty. In truth, he was frowning at her again.

How could he kiss her like that and still not love her?

She really needed to talk to her sisters, for she was utterly confused about men. Not that any of her sisters were any wiser, but perhaps together they might figure out whether Julian loved her or was simply keeping her close because he felt responsible for her.

Were men able to pour heart and soul into a kiss and not mean it? Was every man a base creature capable of taking advantage of a girl who’d just admitted that she loved him? “I wish to return to my room. I’m only in the way here.” She finally squirmed out of Julian’s grasp.

Lady Darnley gave her a pitying smile. “My dear,” she said gently, “I think you and I must have a talk.”

Rose blushed. “No lecture required, Lady Darnley. You can’t possibly berate me more than I’m berating myself. The fault is mine completely and I take full responsibility. I can’t seem to behave myself around your nephew.”

Julian grabbed her hand before she could dart away. “I can’t let you go,” he insisted, looking quite serious and not at all doting or loving, so she knew he wasn’t about to fall on bended knee and declare he loved her madly. “John is still tracking the assailant. You’re my responsibility until he returns.”

Rose couldn’t stop her chin from quivering as she struggled to hold back tears. She’d just admitted that she loved him. Went on and on about it, truth be told. Declared herself a wanton in front of Lady Darnley. Was her humiliation to continue? “I release you of your so-called responsibility. I release you of every obligation you may feel toward me.”

“Rose, you’re twisting my words.”

“What words? You haven’t said anything to me other than that I’m an obligation to you. I just told you that I loved you.”

Lady Darnley gasped.

Rose was still too ashamed to look at her. “Can you not say it to me, Julian? If you can’t, then just say so. Don’t worry about sparing my delicate sensibilities. I’d like to hear the truth for once. Just tell me what’s in your heart.”

She finally glanced at his aunt. “I don’t mind if you stay, Lady Darnley. You and Lord Darnley knew my feelings for your nephew even before I realized them. You wouldn’t have thrown us together at the hunting lodge unless you were certain that a love match could develop. I do love your nephew. My heart soars whenever he’s near. But he doesn’t love me. There you have it.”

Lady Darnley began to back out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave the two of you alone a moment longer. Julian, you must tell her. Stop being an idiot.”

Rose gazed at him in expectation.

He ran a hand roughly through his hair. “I’m sorry, Rose. There are things I cannot say to you.” He strode across the kitchen and summoned his aunt. “Stitch me up. John will return soon. He and I will have to pay a call on the local magistrate.”

“Your uncle has already gone off to fetch him.” Lady Darnley regarded him askance. “And what of Rose?”

His gaze remained cold and indifferent. “She needs to trust me.”

ROSE FELT AS
though eons had passed, for every
tick, tick, tick
of the clock stretched out with excruciating slowness while they awaited John’s return. She, Lady Darnley, and Julian were still in the kitchen, which had been cleared of servants to lend privacy for the minor surgery Julian was about to undergo.

They would be allowed back in once Julian’s wound was stitched and he had once more donned his shirt. Not the blood-soaked one, but a fresh one brought down by Lord Darnley’s valet.