Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,98
to bear.
Thank God, Kit was coming home. He’d missed his brother like the devil. More than he’d ever expected. He could take some small satisfaction in knowing that one day his brother would take his rightful place as Lord Stanford. That he would right his mother’s wrong.
Small comfort.
His father—he shook his head—Christopher’s father, would be have been pleased. Hell, it would even make his mother happy.
It was bloody ironic really.
It had nothing to do with his parents. He cared nothing for what they thought. It was Christopher who mattered.
Yes, he really did love his brother. And he did love Rosabella, though it was better that she didn’t believe him. Better for her.
The candles blurred. His throat burned. He blinked to clear his vision, swallowed the stupid lump in his throat. Pointless emotion. The kind he’d learned to suppress as a lad.
A scratch at the door. ‘My lord?’
‘Not now.’
‘You have a visitor, my lord.’
He rested his forearms on his thighs and stared at the carpet, a twisted mess of greens and blues. Did he really want company? Friends to drag him into St James’s where they’d drink and wench and laugh until they couldn’t stand and finish the night in some whore’s bed.
He shuddered. ‘Not tonight,’ he called out. He forced himself to his feet. Tomorrow. He’d go out tomorrow. Or later in the week. He didn’t have the heart for it tonight.
Loss was best suffered in private.
Yet he couldn’t just sit here staring at the walls. The papers on his desk caught his eye. Work. There was always lots of work in the management of an estate. He wanted it in tiptop shape for Christopher. Or Christopher’s son.
A pang shot through his chest. Regret. For the child he might have had? Not possible, surely?
He’d always known he wouldn’t have a child.
And yet he couldn’t help wondering what kind of babe he and Rosabella would have made together.
He sat down in front of the pile of papers and read his steward’s note about the tenant who couldn’t pay his rent.
The door opened.
He cursed. ‘I’m busy.’
It closed again.
The tenant wasn’t lazy, he’d had bad luck.
Whoever had entered hadn’t left. He could hear them breathing. With a sigh he lifted his head.
He shot to his feet. ‘Rosabella?’
She stood in the gloom and for a moment he thought he was seeing things. She looked pale and drawn and exceedingly nervous.
His heart ached for the pain he saw on her face.
‘Why are you here?’ Now there was a welcome. He came around the desk. ‘Please, sit down.’
She clasped her reticule in front of her like a shield. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting your work.’
She looked ready to flee.
‘Not at all. I am glad of the break. Can I offer you some wine?’
She shook her head and perched on the edge of a sofa. Clearly whatever it was she had come to say, she didn’t plan to stay long. He blinked again, just to make sure the wine hadn’t caused her apparition.
He sat beside her. Not touching her, though he wanted to, but near enough to smell the scent of jasmine, to see the rapid beat of the pulse at her temple. She swallowed as if she was afraid. Perhaps she thought he’d ravish her. Again. Hell, he really had treated her badly.
‘How can I be of service?’
‘Your mother came to see me this afternoon.’
Cold filled his veins. He tried hard not to care, but his little nun had burrowed deep into his heart, and knowing what his mother would have told her made him feel sick. Ashamed.
‘So you know I’m a bastard.’ He slapped the words down in front of her to prove he didn’t care.
‘Oh, Garth, I’m so sorry.’
‘You are sorry? The accident of my birth has nothing to do with you.’
‘No, I mean I’m so sorry about what I said.’ Her low voice trembled, her words were jerky.
He must be misunderstanding her meaning. He frowned. ‘You said nothing that wasn’t true.’
Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, the gold and the brown melding together. She struggled to speak.
His chest ached at the sight of her sadness. ‘Please, Rosabella, don’t cry. It was wrong of me not to tell you. It is good that you know. You were right about me. I cannot give you the love you deserve.’
The tears welled over, running down her cheeks. She gasped for breath. ‘Oh, Garth, no.’
He took her hands. ‘I am so sorry, Rosabella. I did you a terrible wrong. I should never have laid a finger on you.