Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,52

hear any more about it, Rose. The matter is settled.’

The hands that had been so gentle and caring earlier were now brisk and firm. He barely looked at her.

Cold reality scoured her heart. He was right in a way. She should have told him she was an innocent. But how was she to know he’d take it to heart, feel his honour was impugned? She didn’t think rakes had any honour.

A good marriage might well have been the answer to all of her problems, but a bad one could only make things worse. If she couldn’t marry for love, she wasn’t going to marry at all. She had always said so.

She should never have thought she could be a mistress. Never let him change her mind. She should have stuck to her plan and opted for the opera.

The three-mile trudge along rutted lanes deep in mud in a heavy silence left Rosa exhausted. Stanford had been right, they would not have been able to accomplish the journey at night in the storm, but she wished they had tried. Life would not now be so complicated.

The river had not washed away the bridge in the village, but in the low places water lay in deep puddles across the road and the mud made walking exceedingly difficult.

They met a couple of farm labourers who were on their way to the fields. Garth tipped his hat when they stopped to stare in dull curiosity. As far as she could tell, no one else remarked their passing.

She was glad of his grim silence, because it gave her time to think and the more she thought the more she realised she would not marry a rake and a libertine who thought she’d tricked him into marriage. What kind of marriage would it be if he carried so much resentment? He was probably horrified because he knew her mother was an opera singer. She couldn’t blame him for the seduction. She’d been eager for it. She’d even convinced herself she’d fallen in love. So foolish. So naïve.

Naïveté should not ruin his life or hers.

The opera really was her only choice. It always had been.

She halted as they approached The Grange’s front door. ‘May I crave your indulgence? Would you permit me to speak with Lady Keswick alone?’

He narrowed his eyes.

Suspicious. Always suspicious. A man who trusted no one. It was hard to blame him after what she had done. ‘She has been good to me. I owe her an explanation. I will talk to her the moment she arises at eleven.’

A smile broke on his face and for a second she glimpsed that other man, the one she’d fallen for on the beach and again last night. Her heart ached. After today, she would never see him again.

‘You are not such a bad lass, are you?’ he said almost as if surprised. ‘Very well. It will take me an hour or two to get rid of the mud. We will depart at midday.’

They entered the house as the cased clock beside the stairs chimed seven.

‘I will take the backstairs, so we are not seen together.’

‘What matters that now?’ he said, the grim expression returning.

‘It matters to me.’

He gave an impatient shake of his head, but started up the stairs. Two steps up he turned. ‘At half past eleven, then. In the drawing room. Be ready to leave.’

She’d be ready to leave before then.

Up in her chamber, she changed quickly, packed a valise and carried it along to the other wing.

Lady Keswick was sitting up in bed with a lace cap covering her iron-grey hair, sipping on a steaming cup of chocolate. She always needed a little sustenance before she closed her eyes and napped until it was time to rise. ‘You are up early today, Rose?’

‘I’m leaving.’

The old lady stared at her. ‘Stanford.’ She slapped a hand on the counterpane. ‘I knew it.’

Rosa winced at her employer’s perspicacity. ‘It has nothing to do with him. Not really. I having been thinking and decided I want to start on my career as a singer right away. I really need to earn more money. Did you hear anything from your friend?’

‘Not yet. She is touring in Italy and won’t be back in London until the end of the summer. Stay until then. I am sure she will be able to help.’

Once Lady Keswick realised Stanford’s intentions were honourable, or at least his form of honourable, she would join forces with him. ‘Would you give me a letter of