Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) by Catherine Hemmerling Page A

the overcrowded parlor.
    Simon had to shake his head at the outrageous, and yet so characteristic, handling of the room’s decoration. Ironically, though, Simon found some level of comfort in the incongruence. It really wouldn’t be Warren House if the decorating were sensible and orderly.
    Deciding that he had left Rose to wait long enough, Simon squared his shoulders and confidently strolled into the room.
    “Simon!” Rose exclaimed, jumping up to greet him. “You’re here!”
    “Of course I am here,” Simon replied. Then he leaned in as if imparting some deep secret and whispered, “Where else would I be?”
    Rose simply stared at Simon as he handed her a beautiful arrangement of late winter flowers and kissed her softly. He was rewarded for his romantic efforts by a sweet blush that bloomed across her cheeks.
    “These are lovely, Simon. Thank you.”
    Simon smiled. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to buy Rose flowers, but when he saw them he had thought of her and just couldn’t help himself. Really, he was going to have to start distancing himself from the chit. Her smiles were beginning to mean too much to him. “Er…let me, ah,” she began. “Water…yes, I must put these in water.”
    Rose nodded once, as if confirming to herself that it was a good idea, and then she practically ran from the room, flowers in hand.
    …
    Rose stopped in the hallway outside the parlor and leaned weakly against the wall. What was the matter with her? Flowers and a chaste kiss should not be this disturbing to her senses. One would think she was in love. In love…with Simon.
    Good heavens! Rose thought. She couldn’t be in love with Simon. No, he was just playing with her feelings like always. He probably thought making her blush was great fun. Although lately, he seemed almost sincere in the way he looked at her.
    Rose remembered how he’d smiled at her when he handed her the flowers. Again her stomach flipped over. What was the matter with her? The worst thing she could do would be to develop a tendre for Simon Trumbull!
    Mine, she thought fleetingly and nostalgically.
    “Miss?” a voice said, startling Rose out of her reverie.
    Her head snapped up to see her butler, Chauncy, standing there with absolutely no expression on his face, yet at the same time it was clear he was confused by her presence in the hallway…sagging against a wall with flowers clutched to her chest.
    “Yes, Chauncy. Hello,” Rose said, pushing up from the wall and smoothing her skirts with one hand.
    Chauncy responded with just the barest raising of an eyebrow.
    “Ah, I am, ah, glad to see you,” Rose stammered, looking around wildly for some reason for her to be loitering in the hall, when her eyes landed on the flowers in her hand. “Yes, I…need you to put these in water for me, please.”
    “Certainly, Miss,” the butler said, taking the flowers from her.
    “Thank you,” Rose replied.
    The butler nodded and turned to head down the hall toward the kitchens. Once he was out of sight, Rose smacked herself on the forehead. She really needed to get herself together. So she was beginning to truly care for Simon. What of it? It was not as if he returned the feelings.
    Oh, Rose was sure that he liked her. Probably even more than he had originally planned. But his loving her was highly unlikely. And the question was, could she live with that? Could she spend her life with him knowing that she might someday love him and that he would never return the sentiment?
    Honestly, she didn’t have much of a choice. She had always known they would marry and when she didn’t harbor any feelings for him it hadn’t really mattered that he wouldn’t hold any for her either, but now…Rose sighed. Now things would be infinitely harder.
    Well, she supposed she could do worse than to marry a man who thought highly of her, rather liked her, and would willingly support her in the manner to which she was accustomed. It was far better than many women