Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,43

Roman Catholic church. My father simply obtained a special licence and married her again.’

She sighed. ‘They didn’t care what people thought. They were happy here, together.’

‘But she died.’

She nodded. ‘She died giving birth to a son. Father was devastated. I think he blamed himself.’

‘You inherited your mother’s voice.’

She chuckled softly. ‘Mother was thrilled. I can remember performing in the drawing room for the few friends who stuck by Father after his marriage. Mother loved to sing and we would all take part in productions. Rinaldo was her favourite, for she got to play the man. My voice is very much like hers. I have sometimes thought I might like to go on the stage. Quite shocking, I know.’

‘With that voice, and…’ he hesitated ‘…and your face and figure, you would take London by storm, though it is hardly a respectable profession.’

‘I would make lots of money.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘I’m not sure I am good enough. My voice isn’t trained. I would need to take lessons.’ It would all take far too long.

She really needed to think of something else. It was not what her parents had wanted for her, but then they hadn’t expected her to end up in debt.

If Mama had lived, or Papa had abided by his promise to see them well cared for, then the idea of becoming an opera singer would never have entered her head.

‘Did your husband leave you nothing?’

‘He earned very little as a curate.’

A silence descended. She glanced at his brooding expression as he stared into the fire. He seemed to have withdrawn into himself. Perhaps he also saw the past in the flames.

‘Where did you grow up?’ she asked.

‘Not far from here, actually,’ he said, lifting his head to look at her. Hot hunger lit his eyes and sent a frisson of awareness through her body. A longing to be consumed by the fires. Desire. She had no illusions. His powers of seduction were legendary and she had already learned she had no armour against him. Partly because she liked him more than she should. Much more.

He blinked and his eyes cooled, leaving only a smile. The sweet boyish one that pulled at her heart and left her in disarray. It was like a glimpse behind a mask at the real man. Or perhaps it was yet another mask, the one designed for seduction. She wished she knew for certain which, but since she did not, she must remain wary.

‘I grew up not far from Brighton,’ he said.

‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’

His face took on a cynical expression. ‘One younger brother.’ His lashes swept down, hiding his eyes. ‘Half-brother, in truth.’

‘Your father married again?’

‘I would that were the case,’ he said rather mysteriously. ‘My brother did well for himself as a shipowner. Recently he married a duke’s daughter and went to America. They are expecting their first child. My mother is in alt.’ He sounded bitter.

‘You aren’t pleased at your brother’s good fortune?’

He drew himself upright. ‘I am delighted for Kit. He’s a good man. He deserves all that is good and more.’

‘But you don’t?’ She didn’t know what made her ask that question, except for the emphasis on the word he. When his gaze shot to capture hers she truly wished she hadn’t opened her mouth, because the evidence was there in his eyes. A bleakness she’d never noticed before. It chilled her.

‘Do you think you can read minds?’ he mocked. ‘See into other people’s souls?’

She recoiled. Clearly she’d trod where angels feared to go. ‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean anything. Idle chatter.’

‘It seems neither of us is good at small talk.’ His tone had gentled and his brows went up quizzically.

No sense in taking umbrage under the circumstances. They were caught here, together. She should try to get along with him. She smiled. ‘In truth, I can’t say I have had a great deal of practice.’

He chuckled softly ‘You are a surprising woman, Mrs Travenor. Or may I call you Rose?’ He glanced down at himself. ‘It is hard to retain formality when sitting wrapped in nothing but a sheet beside a fire with a beautiful woman. My name is Garth, by the way.’ The seductive note softened his voice. A hot shiver ran down her spine to land low in her belly. The rake had returned. Now she must truly be on her guard.

‘Sheet or no, I expect you to be a gentleman.’

He inclined his head, but amusement played about his lips. ‘I promise