Chapter Ten

Rose paused on the threshold, torn between pity and jealousy as the woman continued to cry on Steven’s shoulder. She reminded herself she had no right to be jealous, but emotions like that had no sense of their own.

Rose had fully intended to remain in the carriage and let Steven attend to his own business. But she’d been able to see, though the parlor windows, Steven speaking to the widowed Mrs. Ellis, and Mrs. Ellis hurtling herself at Steven. Steven had started in surprise, and by the look on his face had no idea what to do with her. Rose had called for the footman who’d accompanied them and bade him help her from the carriage and to the house.

The woman—Mrs. Ellis—raised her head when she heard Rose’s voice. Her eyes were red-rimmed with weeping, her face blotchy. She wrenched herself away from Steven as though Steven had been clutching her instead of the other way around, and dragged a handkerchief from her pocket.

“Why did you bring her here?” Mrs. Ellis asked piteously. “How could you, Steven?”

Steven’s face was flushed, and he balled his gloved hands to fists and cleared his throat. “May I present Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Southdown?” he said stiffly. “My fiancée.”

“What?” Mrs. Ellis raised her head, her voice ragged. “Fiancée? What are you talking about?”

Steven continued to stand rigidly. “If you’d bothered to look at a newspaper the last few days, you’d have seen it splashed everywhere.”

Mrs. Ellis stared at him a moment, then she swung her gaze to the maid who’d followed Rose into the parlor, trying to stop her. “Evans,” she snapped. “Fetch me a newspaper.”

The maid curtseyed then vanished without a word. She was back quickly, newspapers in her hand. She handed one to Mrs. Ellis, face-up to the place that said, Captain S— McB— and his tenacious duchess dine together, then head for the theatre with his illustrious McK— in-laws. The play in question was Medea. One hopes it is not prophetic.

Mrs. Ellis read this, her color changing from red to unhealthy pale. “Oh.” She looked up, not at Rose, but at Steven, and her expression was one of chagrin but also relief—vast relief. How odd. “Steven, forgive me. I had no idea.” She turned to Rose and flushed again. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace.” She sank down to the sofa, the spirit gone out of her.

Rose sat next to her in concern. “Are you all right? Evans, please bring your mistress tea.”

Evans hurried to obey while Steven stood in the center of the room, a masculine pillar in the midst of feminine hysteria.

“Steven, you should have told me,” Mrs. Ellis said, looking up at him, her handkerchief at her eyes again. “I never would have . . .”

“Forget it,” Steven said in a firm voice. “It’s done.”

The tension between them was thick. Rose wished she knew what was going on, but she realized that now was not the time to ask.

“Congratulations.” Mrs. Ellis directed the word first at Steven then at Rose. “I hope you will be happy. I truly do.”

“I intend to be,” Steven answered.

The look he sent Rose seemed to erase all doubt in Mrs. Ellis’s mind. She turned a genuine smile on Rose. “My sincerest apologies, Your Grace. Steven was right—I knew nothing, and only assumed. I think this is wonderful. The best thing that could happen. You’ve brightened my day a bit.” She squeezed Rose’s hand, and Rose smiled back, more to reassure her than anything else.

The tea came. Rose poured a cup for Mrs. Ellis and pushed it into her hand but declined any herself.

“We have much to do,” Rose said, rising. “Everything is very rushed, unfortunately.” She took Mrs. Ellis’s hand. “Again, I am very sorry to hear about your husband. I know well what it is to lose one so dear. We will never cease missing them, but it does become more bearable. But we wouldn’t want to lose the pain entirely, would we? Then it would be as if they hadn’t mattered.”

Mrs. Ellis nodded, tears filling her eyes again. “You are right. Entirely right.” She set aside her tea and got to her feet, becoming again the polite woman Rose had met the day before. “Take care of Steven, Your Grace. He deserves happiness.”

She squeezed Rose’s hands then let her go. Steven was beside Rose now, his hand on her elbow. “Good-bye, Laura,” he said firmly, and steered Rose out.

***

Not until they were in the carriage, moving through the streets toward the Langham did Rose venture to speak.

“If you don’t wish to talk of it, I understand,” she said to Steven, who’d taken the seat opposite her. “But I admit a healthy curiosity.”

Steven had been silent since they’d left the house, but he now held out a hand to Rose. “Come and sit with me.”

He was asking her to throw propriety to the wind. Ladies and gentlemen who were not related did not occupy the same seat in a carriage, and the ladies always rode facing forward while the gentlemen faced the rear of the coach.

The little rules seemed ridiculous now that they’d broken so many larger ones. Rose didn’t hesitate to go to Steven and snuggle in next to him. She laid her cheek on his warm coat, and he slid his arm around her as rain streaked the carriage windows like tears.

“My friend Ronald and I first met Laura five years ago, when we were on leave for Christmas,” Steven began. “And we both fell hard. She was twenty-two and a stunning beauty.”

“She is still quite pretty,” Rose managed to say. The bite of jealousy rose up in her again, but she would run back to the hotel alone in the rain before she’d admit it.

Steven touched her cheek. “You’re a generous soul, Rosie. Ronald and I made great fools of ourselves for her. We were best friends, closer than most brothers, and I think we enjoyed the game for her affections. She certainly enjoyed playing us one off the other. She had us fighting for her favors, each trying to trick the other out of escorting her to whatever outings we’d planned. We both went a little mad, threatening each other with dire fates. Laura sat between us and lapped up every morsel of it. I postured as much as Ronald, even coming to blows with him, but somewhere in the back of my mind, no matter how far things went, I still considered it all a game. After Christmas, we’d rejoin the regiment as best friends.” Steven drew a sharp breath. “When Laura chose me as her affianced, I was very proud of myself. What I didn’t realize at the time was that Ronald hated me for it.”

“Oh.” Rose’s heart squeezed, and she fought her demon again. No reason for it, she told herself. Clearly the marriage had not come to pass. “But she married Captain Ellis,” she said, puzzled.

Steven gave her a nod. “That came later, after I squired Laura about for the rest of that season, very full of myself. She quite played it up as well. What neither she nor I knew was how much Ronald felt it. I had no idea—I was only pleased I’d won the game. I play to win.” He let out a breath, sounding bitter. “One night, Ronald cornered me alone in my hotel room. He had a pistol and vowed to shoot me, then himself.”

Rose sat up in alarm. “Good heavens. What did you do?”

“He was very drunk, and I was able to wrestle the pistol away from him, thank God. But I saw the misery in his eyes. I realized in that single moment that Ronald loved Laura deeply, and I never had. I’d been infatuated, and wanted to best everybody, as I always do. I’d been gambling as usual, but this time with friendship and our lives.”

Rose rubbed her thumb over the inside his wrist. “Oh, Steven. I’m sorry.”

Steven sent her a self-deprecating smile. “No need. I’d been a thorough idiot, and the shock of Ronald truly wanting to kill me woke me up. So I conceded the field. I told Ronald I knew he and Laura belonged together. I’d allow her to break the engagement, then I left for Scotland, taking myself out of the way.”

“What did Mrs. Ellis say to that?” Rose tried to imagine the grief-stricken woman she’d met devastated that Steven wanted to break the engagement. No, she’d truly loved her husband. Her sorrow hadn’t been feigned, and she hadn’t looked at Steven with regret or any sort of longing.

Steven gave a short laugh. “She’d wanted Ronald the whole time, it turned out. Used me to make him declare himself. I doubt she thought he’d go as dramatically far as he did. I walked away, spent my Christmas with my family in Scotland, as per usual, and went back to the regiment. Ronald returned too, by himself, but a married man. He’d obtained a special license and done the deed at New Year’s.”

“Mrs. Ellis didn’t accompany him?”

He shook his head. “She didn’t like the idea of living outside England, especially not in such a difficult place as Africa. Which was why I’d never had any fear of taking the game to its logical conclusion. I’d have gotten out of the engagement before it became too entangling. I’d want a wife willing to accompany me.”

Rose secretly thought Mrs. Ellis a fool. If Steven had asked her, Rose would have eagerly followed him wherever he went, never mind heat and hardship.

“What happened to Captain Ellis?” Rose asked.

Steven looked out the window, but there was nothing to see but drops on the glass and mist beyond. Very little sunshine penetrated the gloom of the day, sealing them in a half-light of gray.

Rose rested her head on his shoulder again. “If you don’t want to tell me the rest, I understand.”

Steven drew a long breath. “No, I want you to know the rest of the story. Ronald and I were on a patrol one night a month or so ago, and got cut off from camp. He’d told me that morning that when he took leave this year, it would be his last. He planned to leave the army and settle down with Laura and raise children. He was happy, and I was happy for him. Things had never been the same between us since he tried to shoot me, no matter how many times he’d apologized for it or tried to make up for it. I was glad we were putting the whole sordid business behind us. But it wasn’t meant to be.” Steven turned from the window and looked down at her. “We ran into a pocket of rebels, they had guns, and they shot Ronald, right in front of me.”

“Steven.” Rose slid her arms around him, her heart aching. “How horrible.”

“He never had a chance,” he said, voice stoic. “I got him away and to a safe place, but he died as I held him.”

Rose tightened her embrace. It felt so natural to comfort him, as though she had a right to. “I’m so sorry.”

“His last words to me were another apology.” Steven gave another short laugh. “Ronald thought I was still in love with Laura, to my surprise. He told me to go back to England and look after her. Gave me his blessing to marry her. I couldn’t argue with him, not while he was dying. It was important to him that he made his peace with me this way, so I agreed to take care of her.”

Rose said nothing. Steven turned back to the window, the rain increasing outside. Rose thought about how Steven had introduced her to Mrs. Ellis, emphasizing she was his fiancée. And Mrs. Ellis’s look of relief.

“She doesn’t want to marry you,” Rose said. “Is that what she thought you’d come to do? Propose to her?”

“Yes,” Steven answered wearily. “Ronald apparently told her that if anything ever happened to him, she and I could be together. But Laura never wanted me. She still doesn’t. That’s why she tried to put me off. I only insisted delivering Ronald’s things so I could fulfill my promise to him, and close the matter.”

“I understand.” Rose rested her hand on the seat beside her. “Handy that the world thought you betrothed then, wasn’t it?”

She spoke lightly, but she at last understood Steven’s willingness to have his name coupled with hers, to have the journalists spread the tale that they were engaged. It would send a message to Mrs. Ellis for once and for all that the events of the past were at an end.

“Rose.” Steven turned to her, a hard light in his eyes. “I might have seen the opportunity, that first morning. But that’s not what it became.”

His look made anything jealous in her shrivel in shame. “I’m not angry,” she said, her voice quiet. “I am happy to help you in return for the assistance you’ve rendered me.” She tried to smile. “Even to keep you out of an unwanted marriage.”

“Not to keep me out—to give Laura her freedom. I know her. She’d convinced herself I was still in love with her, and that it was her duty to marry me for Ronald’s sake. Even if I hadn’t proposed, she’d have martyred herself, waiting for me to. This way, she can move on with her life, marry someone else if she wishes, instead of either burying herself for me or marrying me and both of us living in horrible guilt. Now she’s free.”

Rose nodded. “I do see that.” She recalled her first encounter with Mrs. Ellis and became torn between amusement and embarrassment. “I suppose she thought I was your paramour.”

Steven leaned back against the seat. “At this moment, I don’t give a damn what she thought. I’ve done my part, now we can all rest in peace.”

Before Rose could ask him what he meant by that, the coach slowed, nearing the hotel. The street was crowed, despite the rain, and men in black suits waited near the hotel’s entrance for their return.

“Oh, God,” Steven said, peering out at them. “I can’t face that mob right now. Miles!” he called.

Miles opened the hatch below his seat and peered inside. “Yes, sir?”

“Can you take us somewhere a little less conspicuous?”

“Yes, sir.” Miles snapped closed the hatch and the carriage turned abruptly. In the mist and rain, perhaps the journalists would not see the crest of the Duke of Southdown on the coach’s side.

Miles drove them back to Mayfair, to Grosvenor Street and the mews behind it. He was going to lend them his quarters above the coach house again, Rose saw.

The rain was coming down in earnest as Miles halted the coach. Steven pulled a flap of his greatcoat around Rose as he helped her down, then they dashed together into the warm, horse-scented coach house. A side door took them to a flight of stairs leading to the quarters above, where Mrs. Miles greeted them with tea.

Mrs. Miles helped Steven out of his wet coat, telling him she’d sent hot water up to the spare room he’d used before, if he wanted to wash his face and hands. She chivvied him on up the stairs, then brought a basin and towel to Rose.

Rose rinsed her face and patted it dry, blessing Mrs. Miles for her understanding. It was cozy here, in the small quarters where only Miles and his wife lived. Albert kept no other staff permanently in Town; he employed Miles only because he was paid by a trust settled upon him by Charles. Miles and his wife stayed for Rose’s sake, they’d let her know early on, and she was grateful to the pair of them.

Rose finished her ablutions and drank a cup of tea, but Steven did not reappear. After half a second cup and a wonderful scone, Rose filled the cup that waited for Steven and carried it up the stairs to the room at the top of the house.

She’d feared to find Steven on the bed, thinking haunting thoughts of his friend and his death, but he stood at the tiny dormer window, looking out. Rain streaked the window, filming it with an almost constant stream of water. Steven rested his arm on the high sill, his face turned out to the gloom.

“I brought you your tea,” Rose said brightly. “Truth to tell, I was getting a bit worried about you.”

“Were you?” Steven made no move to take the tea, and Rose set it on the washstand, the only other piece of furniture in the room. “No need. I’ll weather my storm. Already have, mostly.”

Rose made for the door. “Have a drink of the tea—it’s quite good. And come down soon. Mrs. Miles has gone about her errands, and Miles is looking after the horses, so there’s no need to make conversation if you don’t want to.”

Steven turned his head and looked at her, his expression telling her he hadn’t taken in a word she’d just said. “Don’t go, Rosie.”

His voice pulled at her, stirring fires in her heart. “There’s more tea downstairs,” she said quickly. “And scones. Light as a feather, with plenty of jam—”

“Rose.” Steven crossed the cramped room and laid his large hand on her arm. “Stay.”

His hand was heavy, strong, but it was the look in his gray eyes that decided the matter. “Yes,” Rose whispered, and closed the door.