accepted Sir Lawrence. He is, after all, a visitor to Mersecombe.’
‘But he has a fearsome reputation, Mama. You know what Aunt Jane says of him.’
Mrs Molland frowned.
‘Your aunt enjoys gossip, my love. Entertaining as it is to read, it is often grossly exaggerated. We should take as we find. And Sir Lawrence was very kind to little Sam.’
Rose looked away, acknowledging her mother’s gentle rebuke with a slight flutter of her hand.
‘I…I did not want to encourage him, Mama.’
‘One dance in a public assembly! What harm could that do?’ Mrs Molland shook her head.
Rose did not reply. Everyone in the room was aware of the identity of the elegantly dressed gentleman and Rose knew that there were those present who loved gossip just as much as her Aunt Jane. If they had the slightest reason to connect her name with Sir Lawrence, then her reputation would be in jeopardy. She was the widow of one womaniser and any goodwill wouldquickly evaporate if she was seen to encourage the advances of another, far more notorious rake!
From then on the evening descended into a game of cat and mouse. Rose studiously avoided Sir Lawrence. When he drew near to the refreshment table she made sure she was at the far end of the room; later, when she was sitting with her mother and she saw him approaching, Rose quickly excused herself and slipped away into the crowd. Her behaviour was making him angry; he might continue to smile as he made his bow to this person or that, but the set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes told Rose that his temper was on a tight rein. It made her even more determined not to go near him again that evening.
The Assembly drew to a close. The musicians packed away their instruments and the crowd began to disperse. Rose collected her wrap and returned to the ballroom. There was no sign of Sir Lawrence.
‘Mr Emsleigh has offered to take us up in his carriage, is that not kind of him?’ Mrs Molland gave Rose a gentle nudge.
‘Mmm? Oh, yes—yes indeed. Thank you, Magnus.’
He looked down at Rose, who had her sturdy leather half-boots in her hand. ‘My dear, there is no need to put those on if I am taking you in the carriage.’
Rose hesitated. Her mother and Althea were already waiting by the door. She waved at them.
‘It will not take me a moment. You may all go on; I shall join you as soon as I am done.’
She sat down and tugged off her dancing slippers. Really, Magnus was so irritating. All very well for him to declare that she only had to step into the carriage, but she knew full well that the stairs brought them down to the side door of the inn and the coach would only be able to pull into the yard or to wait in the street. Either way they would have to walk on the dirty cobbles and she had no intention of risking her last pair of good dancing slippers. Angrily she took her time over lacing her boots. They could easily have walked. It was only a step to Bluebell Cottage, but if Magnus was determined to coddle her then he must wait.
The rooms were almost empty when at last Rose made her way to the door. The servants were already blowing out the candles, filling the air with thick, pungent smoke that swirled like grey mist in the deepening shadows. Quickly she hurried down the wide staircase. Noise from the inn filtered up to her, but the stairs had been designed to carry those attending balls and routs directly to and from the Long Room, keeping them separate from customers drinking in the taproom.
She reached the door and stepped out. To her right the Emsleighs’ carriage was waiting in the yard, but even as she looked that way a hand shot out and gripped her arm, jerking her roughly into the shadows. She found herself pinned against a hard, unyielding chest, her cheek rubbing against the fine wool of an evening coat. Rose raised her head to protest, but immediately a dark head swept down and her lips were captured in a savage, familiar kiss.
Rose went weak
‘But he has a fearsome reputation, Mama. You know what Aunt Jane says of him.’
Mrs Molland frowned.
‘Your aunt enjoys gossip, my love. Entertaining as it is to read, it is often grossly exaggerated. We should take as we find. And Sir Lawrence was very kind to little Sam.’
Rose looked away, acknowledging her mother’s gentle rebuke with a slight flutter of her hand.
‘I…I did not want to encourage him, Mama.’
‘One dance in a public assembly! What harm could that do?’ Mrs Molland shook her head.
Rose did not reply. Everyone in the room was aware of the identity of the elegantly dressed gentleman and Rose knew that there were those present who loved gossip just as much as her Aunt Jane. If they had the slightest reason to connect her name with Sir Lawrence, then her reputation would be in jeopardy. She was the widow of one womaniser and any goodwill wouldquickly evaporate if she was seen to encourage the advances of another, far more notorious rake!
From then on the evening descended into a game of cat and mouse. Rose studiously avoided Sir Lawrence. When he drew near to the refreshment table she made sure she was at the far end of the room; later, when she was sitting with her mother and she saw him approaching, Rose quickly excused herself and slipped away into the crowd. Her behaviour was making him angry; he might continue to smile as he made his bow to this person or that, but the set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes told Rose that his temper was on a tight rein. It made her even more determined not to go near him again that evening.
The Assembly drew to a close. The musicians packed away their instruments and the crowd began to disperse. Rose collected her wrap and returned to the ballroom. There was no sign of Sir Lawrence.
‘Mr Emsleigh has offered to take us up in his carriage, is that not kind of him?’ Mrs Molland gave Rose a gentle nudge.
‘Mmm? Oh, yes—yes indeed. Thank you, Magnus.’
He looked down at Rose, who had her sturdy leather half-boots in her hand. ‘My dear, there is no need to put those on if I am taking you in the carriage.’
Rose hesitated. Her mother and Althea were already waiting by the door. She waved at them.
‘It will not take me a moment. You may all go on; I shall join you as soon as I am done.’
She sat down and tugged off her dancing slippers. Really, Magnus was so irritating. All very well for him to declare that she only had to step into the carriage, but she knew full well that the stairs brought them down to the side door of the inn and the coach would only be able to pull into the yard or to wait in the street. Either way they would have to walk on the dirty cobbles and she had no intention of risking her last pair of good dancing slippers. Angrily she took her time over lacing her boots. They could easily have walked. It was only a step to Bluebell Cottage, but if Magnus was determined to coddle her then he must wait.
The rooms were almost empty when at last Rose made her way to the door. The servants were already blowing out the candles, filling the air with thick, pungent smoke that swirled like grey mist in the deepening shadows. Quickly she hurried down the wide staircase. Noise from the inn filtered up to her, but the stairs had been designed to carry those attending balls and routs directly to and from the Long Room, keeping them separate from customers drinking in the taproom.
She reached the door and stepped out. To her right the Emsleighs’ carriage was waiting in the yard, but even as she looked that way a hand shot out and gripped her arm, jerking her roughly into the shadows. She found herself pinned against a hard, unyielding chest, her cheek rubbing against the fine wool of an evening coat. Rose raised her head to protest, but immediately a dark head swept down and her lips were captured in a savage, familiar kiss.
Rose went weak
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