A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante Page 7

  The old woman pottered about the small room some more before setting a cup of tea in front of her. Rosa hadn’t had a decent cup of tea since she’d left England many months ago and she longed to cradle the warm china in her hands, inhale the distinctive scent and take a sip.

  ‘Go ahead,’ the old woman said. ‘Drink.’

  With a backwards glance over her shoulder at the empty doorway Rosa picked up the cup and sipped. It was heavenly and reminded her of home, of long winter afternoons curled up on the window seat in the library reading book after book, watching the rain splatter against the glass, or warm summer afternoons sipping tea in the shade and her father declaring, ‘Hot drinks do cool you down in warm weather.’

  ‘Mothers worry about their children,’ the older woman said as Rosa took her first sip. ‘But most do not have to worry about the scandal of birthing a bastard.’

  Rosa choked on her mouthful of tea, the warm liquid spluttering out of her mouth as she looked up in shock.

  ‘It is written on your face, my dear, but do not fret, I do not mean to announce your secret to the world. I only wish to help.’

  ‘Help?’ This was all becoming a little surreal.

  ‘Do you not wish to know what the future holds, how you will live, what dreams for your baby will be realised?’

  Suddenly all the pieces slotted into place. This woman was some sort of fortune teller, a wise woman who made her living out of luring weary travellers in from the street, then promising to reveal the mysteries of the future.

  ‘I have to go,’ Rosa said, standing up abruptly.

  ‘Go, then.’ The woman shrugged.

  For some reason Rosa didn’t move. She didn’t believe in the supernatural, had never queued with the simpering, excited village girls at the fayres to have her palm read, to hear the lies about who she might marry or what she might achieve. She could understand the appeal, having a sliver of hope that the predictions might come true, but she had never wanted to listen to the same words as every girl in front and behind her.

  ‘I have no money,’ Rosa repeated.

  ‘I don’t ask for any.’

  ‘Then what do you want?’

  ‘To relieve some of your worries, my dear.’

  Rosa sank back into her chair.

  ‘Come, give me your hand.’

  Rosa stretched out her hand, palm upwards, and felt herself stiffen momentarily as the old woman took hold of it and closed her eyes.

  ‘You’ve had much suffering in your past. A loss of innocence, a betrayal of trust. You’re hurting more than you care to admit.’

  The words sliced into her and Rosa had to remind herself it wasn’t anything that wasn’t obvious from the way she carried herself and the fact she was pregnant and unescorted.

  ‘You carry a broken heart, but don’t want anyone else to know how badly you were hurt.’

  Rosa squeezed her eyes closed as the memory of David’s hot breath against her neck came crashing back. The memory she’d tried so hard to forget, the hot, sharp pain and the stone-cold dread.

  ‘Hush, my dear. We all get hurt in this world, it is what you do afterwards that defines you as a woman.’

  Rosa was just about to pull her hand away, to break the connection between her and this strange, observant old woman when the twig-like fingers tightened around hers.

  ‘Now for the future.’

  ‘Rosa.’ Thomas’s voice came low but insistent from the doorway and Rosa felt herself tensing with guilt. Slowly, with a great effort to remain calm and composed, she turned and faced him. She had nothing to feel ashamed about, no reason she could not go wherever she pleased, talk to whoever she wanted.

  ‘What is going on here?’ His voice was severe with a hint of concern and Rosa realised she was pleased to have jolted him from the polite persona he had been hiding behind these last few days.

  ‘Just a cup of tea and a talk with a lonely old woman,’ the fortune teller said with a secret smile towards Rosa.

  ‘I was worried about you.’

  She should have waited for him as she’d agreed, Rosa knew that, but she found she couldn’t apologise for wandering off on her own.

  ‘You’re suffocating me,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Suffocating you?’

  She nodded, not able to explain exactly what she meant, just wanting him to understand she’d noticed the difference in him these last few days.

  ‘Come, we’ll talk about this in private.’

  Rosa was about to protest, but stopped herself. She didn’t really want all the citizens of this small town hearing their argument. Thomas took her arm and just as he was about to lead her out Rosa looked back to thank the woman for her time.

  ‘I don’t think I need to tell you your future,’ the old woman said, leaning in close so only Rosa could hear, a broad grin on her wrinkled face.

  Before she could respond Thomas had guided her back into the street and started marching down the road. Rosa almost had to run to keep up, her body tilting to one side as she tried not to strain her injured ankle.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, breathless.

  ‘Somewhere private.’

  ‘Back to the inn?’

  ‘That’s not private enough for what I have to say.’

  His tone of voice told her all she needed to know. He was angry, although she couldn’t quite make out why.

  He didn’t stop walking until they were well outside the town boundaries and then it was only to vault over a low wall. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he leaned back across the wall, gripped Rosa around the waist and lifted her over.

  They were standing in a field of wheat, the green shoots just turning golden at the tips. For a moment Thomas’s hands stayed in place, holding her above her hips, and Rosa felt her heart begin to flutter as his eyes met hers. There was something new in his gaze, something that hadn’t been there before, and Rosa found she was unable to look away.

  ‘Don’t do anything like that again,’ he said softly. ‘I was worried about you.’

  All the rebellion and the fire she had felt when he’d burst into the old woman’s house and demanded she leave fizzled out with that one sentence. He was worried about her. He cared for her safety.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rosa murmured, still not able to look away.

  ‘Why did you go off alone?’

  Rosa tried to collate a sentence in her head, but found as soon as she thought of the words they were whisked away. Something strange was happening to her body, a heat was rising from deep inside her and she was unable to think of anything but the man in front of her.

  ‘I wouldn’t have been much longer in the coaching inn.’

  ‘It wasn’t that...’ Rosa began, trying to make him understand it hadn’t been impatience that had led her to wander the town unescorted. ‘I felt stifled, constrained. I needed some time alone.’

  Thomas dropped his hands from her waist and Rosa had to resist the urge to grip them and put them back.

  This reaction to Thomas, this stirring inside her, was unnerving to say the least. He was an attractive man, both physically and in so many other ways, but Rosa hadn’t expected to ever be attracted to another man again. Not after what David had done to her. It shouldn’t matter that Thomas’s eyes sparkled in the sunlight, that he had protected her at every opportunity and could make her laugh with a single sentence. Rosa knew she should be wary of all men, no matter their positive attributes, but with Thomas she seemed to want to throw all caution to the wind.

  ‘Stifled?’ Thomas repeated, turning half-away from her and looking out over the fields.

  ‘When we were at the villa we laughed all the time. You teased me, challenged me.’

  She glanced up at him, wondering if the silence meant he was offended.

/>   Thomas sighed. ‘And then suddenly I changed.’

  Rosa nodded.

  He remained still and quiet for a few minutes, but Rosa could see he was choosing his next words, his next explanation carefully. As she waited she felt her pulse quicken with anticipation. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, what reason she wanted him to give, but she did want him to touch her again, to take her hand and look into her eyes as he spoke.

  * * *

  Thomas’s mind was reeling. It wasn’t working, his policy of polite chivalry. A plan had begun to form in his mind on their last evening at the villa, as the Di Mercurios retreated and Rosa had looked at him with those big, worried eyes. A plan that would protect her from the worst the world had to offer whilst conferring certain advantages for his life as well.

  He was considering asking Rosa to marry him, and soon. Of course he hadn’t fallen in love with the girl, she was pretty, good company, and rather stoical given all the world had thrown at her, but he wasn’t interested in love or romance. Despite this he did think they could be of use to one another.

  Thomas kept repeating to himself the advantages Rosa would gain from the marriage: a stable home, a decent future, no fear of raising an illegitimate child, but he knew that was to try to assuage the guilt he would feel for deceiving her. He liked Rosa, respected her, but if he were to propose it would be surrounded with half-truths and lies.

  He needed to make a decision. If he were to go ahead with his plan, then ideally they would need to wed before they set sail for England. That way the marriage would be a fait accompli when they arrived home, with no way of anyone interfering with the result.

  ‘You look so serious,’ Rosa said quietly. She raised her hand and hesitantly touched his forehead, trying to smooth out the frown lines between his eyes. It was an intimate gesture, one that he could see she had made on impulse, but her cool fingers felt soothing on his skin. She’d make a good wife, there was no doubt about it—not that he was planning on sticking around to take advantage of a traditional marriage.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve been behaving strangely,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind.’

  ‘I’m sorry I wandered off. I never meant to worry you.’

  ‘I’m sorry I reacted so brusquely, I thought you might be in danger.’

  ‘I’m sorry...’ Rosa began, but was interrupted by Thomas’s raised hands.

  ‘Enough, enough. I think it is safe to say we’re both sorry for our recent behaviours.’

  Rosa smiled softly at him and Thomas felt something tightening inside him. Quickly he suppressed the feeling. That was the last thing he needed, an unwanted attraction to the woman he was considering marrying.

  ‘Seeing as we’re out here in the countryside, and seeing as you’ve been feeling stifled, why don’t we take a walk?’ Thomas suggested. He needed some time to think, to mull over his options, to wrestle with his conscience, but he also recognised he needed to keep Rosa agreeable.

  He offered her his arm and felt a peculiar contentment as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

  ‘So what did that old woman want with you?’ he asked.

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rosa blush, a pink glow blossoming on her cheeks. It made her look young and fresh, a healthy glow that he found strangely endearing.

  ‘I think she was going to tell my fortune,’ Rosa said eventually.

  ‘You believe in all that?’

  Rosa shook her head vehemently.

  Thomas stepped quickly in front of her, took her hand and looked down at it, frowning and pretending to concentrate hard on the criss-crossing lines.

  ‘I see a bright future for you, young lady,’ he said, doing his best impression of an old crone.

  ‘Stop it,’ Rosa said, swatting his arm and pulling her hand away.

  They walked on for a few more minutes, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine and revelling in the cool breeze that wafted across the fields.

  ‘What’s been on your mind?’ Rosa asked eventually.

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘You said you’d had a lot on your mind. Are you worried about returning home?’

  Thomas shook his head slowly. He couldn’t tell her he had been contemplating asking her to marry him, she’d probably expire on the spot. He needed time to phrase the question correctly, show her it was to her advantage. It would be more like a business agreement than a traditional marriage, he would gain a companion for his mother, someone to keep his only living relation company whilst he was free to travel the world. And he’d gain an heir, not his own flesh and blood, but his mother could ensure the child was well brought up and it would stop the home of his ancestors leaving the family altogether.

  ‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ Thomas said, side-stepping the question.

  ‘We always have dinner together.’ Rosa laughed.

  ‘I don’t mean in the coaching inn. Be ready at eight and I’ll collect you from your room.’

  It was only a few hours away, but it would have to be enough time for him to make a final decision. Tonight he would either propose or discard the idea completely.

  Chapter Eight

  Thomas paced about the small room, struggling with the knot in his cravat. He hadn’t had a valet for a long time, not since soon after he’d left England. The young man he’d employed to accompany him on his travels, to look after his possessions and keep him relatively smart, had wept throughout the crossing from England to France with homesickness and Thomas had promptly bought him a return fare as soon as they’d disembarked the ship. His wardrobe had suffered, but he had much preferred the freedom of travelling alone.

  Forcing himself to stand still in front of the small looking glass hung from one of the solid beams, he concentrated on the delicate movements of his fingers. Normally he revelled in tasks such as this, tasks where he could enjoy still being able to complete fine movements with his hands, things that one day he might no longer be capable of doing. Tonight, however, he was distracted and preoccupied.

  Still he hadn’t made up his mind as to whether he was going to propose to Rosa. The past two hours he had swung from one decision to the other, talking himself round when he had thought his mind was made up.

  A quiet tap on the door made him pause. He finished adjusting his cravat in the mirror and when he was satisfied he crossed over to the door and opened it.

  ‘It is five minutes to eight, my lord,’ a young maid said, looking down at the floor as she spoke. ‘My master said to let you know the time.’

  She had scurried off down the dimly lit corridor before Thomas even had the chance to thank her.

  He pulled on his boots, straightened his jacket and left the bedroom, stepping across the hallway and knocking on Rosa’s door.

  As she opened the door Thomas felt his eyes widen a fraction at the sight before him. Before leaving Garda he had loaned her the money to buy some new dresses for the journey. One she had been wearing the past couple of days was practical, made of cotton and a dark shade of blue. This dress he had caught a glimpse of as she’d unpacked her packages, but it looked rather different on.

  The dress was white with a bright red ribbon around the waist, but it was more the cut that made him linger over the sight of her. Cut to skim over her hips and pinch in just above her waist, it emphasised her curves and her naturally tanned skin. Rosa had let her dark hair cascade over one shoulder, pinning it loosely. She looked every inch an Italian beauty.

  Throughout his years of self-imposed exile, and even during his time studying at university and running the family estate whilst his brother was unwell, Thomas had made a conscious effort to avoid female company. It wasn’t that he disliked women, quite the opposite, in fact, but from a young age he had been aware of the disease he might possibly carry in his body, aware of the risk
of passing it on to his own offspring. He would not inflict the suffering his family had endured on another generation, so he had avoided any situation where he might be tempted by a woman. Over the years it had been difficult, especially when his friends talked of their mistresses and the merry widows they were pursuing, but Thomas had held firm.

  Right now, looking at Rosa as a woman for the first time and not just someone needing his help, Thomas felt his resolve falter a little. He had an unnerving urge to sweep her up into his arms, deposit her on the four-poster bed behind her in the bedroom and kiss every inch of her body. He wanted to peel the dress from her, revealing the silky soft skin underneath.

  He had to suppress a groan. This was Rosa he was thinking about, the woman he was hoping to have an entirely platonic marriage with.

  ‘Are you well, Thomas?’ Rosa asked, reaching out and touching him on the arm.

  The heat of her fingers seemed to burn through his layers of clothing and into his skin.

  ‘Quite well,’ he managed to croak.

  ‘You look a little strange.’

  Thomas rallied. It had been a long day and he’d made some momentous decisions, that was all there was to it. In five minutes he would be back to his normal self and completely under control.

  Rosa stepped forward and turned her face up to his. Her breasts brushed lightly against his arm and her lips parted ever so slightly. Thomas could just imagine himself leaning down and covering her lips with his own, kissing her as she moaned underneath him, possessing her.

  ‘I don’t mind waiting a few minutes if you need to rest.’

  Rest was the last thing on his mind as he reached out and placed a hand lightly on her back to guide her down the stairs. Thankfully the corridor was dark and allowed Thomas time to regain control of himself and by time his foot hit the bottom step of the staircase he felt much more like his normal self. Just as long as Rosa didn’t turn to him with that concerned expression again, her lips pouting into a soft O-shape and her eyes wide with worry.

  ‘Everything is ready for you, my lord, just as you asked,’ the landlord said quietly as he sidled up to Thomas.