Table of Contents:

Prologue

1773

Frederick, Lord North, the Prime Minister of England, approached the chambers of King George III within the sanctum of St. James Palace. Two guards stood with crossed pikes as he approached the enormous ornate white and gold double doors that led into His Majesty's inner sanctum. Recognizing the Prime Minister, both guards uncrossed their weapons and stood aside allowing the venerable man to pass.

Lord North sallied forth as a King's aide hurriedly flung wide the door for the statesman to enter. The King sat at the table eating sweetmeats; he waved his hand and lace covered wrist in welcome. Lord North made a leg, before approaching his liege.

"Be seated, North, and so to what do we owe this… ha, we were about to say 'pleasure' but we somehow doubt that this is a social call, hmm?"

"You are correct in your assumptions as ever, your Majesty. I am here with grave tidings from your Majesty's American colonies. There has been a serious backlash to the Tea Levies and the Molasses Tax that we placed upon your colonies."

Here Lord North paused. The King was apt to fly into unexpected rages and he needed to keep the King calm, so that he could gain the Royal Assent to his proposal.

"Continue, man, we do not have all day," the King replied tetchily.

Lord North cleared his throat before saying, "I have a rather unusual proposal, your Majesty. My sources have informed me that a subject living in Virginia, one Henry Randolph, a wealthy plantation owner by all accounts, has the ear of the radicals. He is, according to our sources, a known greedy man but his one love appears to be his daughter Rose. My proposal is thus, sire; we offer the man an advantageous and titled match for his beloved daughter Rose with a peer of the realm, in return for his services as spy and promoter of your Majesty's cause within the American colonies."

"Sounds to be an excellent plan, North, so now do tell, who is the lucky scapegoat to be?"

"I rather thought the Earl of Straddock, Sire, Lord Benedict Mortimer."

"Good God, man! Is that not choosing valuable pedigree rather than a well-trained mongrel for the job?"

"Lord Mortimer refused to entertain the idea of my god-daughter, Lady Margaret Beauchamp, as his Countess and he refused any matrimonial suggestions put to him since then."

"Frederick that is hardly a crime, the man is a peer of the realm. It is only two years since his father died of apoplexy. Give the puppy a chance to choose his own mate. After all, he is still a young man!"

"You are, as always, correct, sire, but we need his help with this situation out in the colonies. There are no other young men of rank, breeding and prestige of his age available to be of sufficient inducement to Henry Randolph."

"We are now becoming mightily bored of the subject, North. What exactly do you want us to do about this?"

"Since Mortimer is a peer of the realm, I request your help in convincing him to marry this chit from the Americas, your Majesty. I would ask that you sign this document so that I might then be permitted to write to Mortimer and instruct him accordingly."

"You really think this match will work, Frederick, and go some way to appease the Colonies?"

"Indeed I do, Sire."

"Very well then, hand me the damned paper!"

"Thank you, sire."

* * * * *

Virginia, America 1774

Henry Carter Randolph sat and stared at the missive that he held within his hand. He stilled his mind that was racing with possibilities. Henry was an astute man of standing within the Colonies. He owned a plantation of some value, he was wealthy by colonial standards, and he was fiercely patriotic to the American cause. Henry knew that the discontent with British rule would eventually lead to bloodshed on these colonial shores. The thing that Henry Randolph prized, above all else in the world, was his beautiful daughter Rose. This offer from the English Crown gave him a way of protecting Rose, effectively removing her completely from the dangers of inevitable conflict.

It would mean that he would have to play a dangerous game of double bluff, but he was prepared to risk his own life to save that of his daughter.

Henry knew that he had been a somewhat neglectful father, mostly due to absence caused by political necessity but that did not mean that time spent in his duties lessened his love for his daughter.

This was an offer worth serious consideration….

Chapter One

Rose Randolph sped from the open meadow towards the Ash Grove Plantation. She called to Pippin, her jaunty white terrier as she ran, "Come, Pippin, good boy, run home now!" Pippin raced beside her as the two sprinted homeward at breakneck speed. A beautiful plantation house sat at the top of a bluff overlooking the James River in the colony of Virginia. Rose's father, Henry, would be arriving from Williamsburg today and she could hardly wait for his return. He had promised to fetch her something new from the milliner's shop. She hoped it would be a jaunty pink bonnet to match her French silk gown.

Rose desperately wanted to show off in front of that hoity-toity Ellen Eubanks. Ellen had worn a new bonnet to church last Sunday and had taken the opportunity to make Rose feel like an underdressed country bumpkin. Just because Rose preferred riding horses and more strenuous activity to poring endlessly over the latest London fashion pamphlets, didn't mean she was uncivilized. They were, after all, living in the Colonies, whether Ellen liked it not. Ellen had moved here from London and she seemed determined to make everyone think she was much too grand to be stuck in a backwater like Virginia.

Rose loved Virginia but, in truth, she had never known anywhere else. The stories of English living that she had heard Ellen tell sounded stilted and rather dull in her opinion. Ellen told of soirees and parties that sounded quite grand, but, to Rose, the tales also told of the expectations and pressures from society. Hmm, sniffed Rose, she wouldn't trade the wide open spaces of Virginia and the beauty of Ash Grove for anywhere else.

Spying her father's carriage coming up the lane, her heart jumped with expectation. Rose's father wasn't the warmest of men, but he usually indulged her in her girlish whims. Henry Carter Randolph served in the House of Burgesses and was often called to the Governor's Palace for political meetings. The sabre rattling against the British crown continued to increase and King George III was not happy. Leaders of Virginia were forever coming in and out of Ash Grove but Rose didn't pay very much attention to politics. In fact, she deliberately tried to avoid her father after such meetings. Henry was often in a mood and would set up a tirade afterwards and it generally took him a day or two to calm down. He was trying to straddle the difficult position of neutrality and things didn't seem to be going well. The meetings left him even more sullen and angry than usual.

Rose's mother had died several years ago. Rose was the only child of Henry and Ann Randolph. Rose missed her mother terribly. The ability to soothe her father's rages belonged to her mother alone. Henry doted on his daughter, however, and afforded her much freedom, perhaps a little too much. While Rose had her own way, she possessed a sweet temperament and rarely behaved in an untoward manner. However, like many overindulged young women, when crossed, she was stubborn and petulant.

Rose stood now on the steps of Ash Grove as her father's carriage wound its way to the front of the house. The coachman alighted and folded down the carriage steps for her father to descend. Henry greeted his daughter warmly, with a hug.

Pippin danced up and down and placed his paws on Henry's thigh. The elder statesman rubbed the dog's scruffy neck. "Still running wild with Pippin I see, daughter. He's been digging again, look at these filthy paws. My breeches shall have to be cleaned. Keep him outside until he has been cleaned as well."

"Yes, sir. Father, how was your time in Williamsburg?"

"Oh, ever the same, my girl, ever the same..."

Rose hated to bring up the subject of her desired pink bonnet when her father looked so weary. She quietly watched with eager anticipation as the boxes and luggage were unloaded. She eyed a beautifully wrapped package, just the right size for a milliner's box, as it was handed down from the luggage rack and placed into Henry's arms. He turned and smiled at her.

"You didn't think I'd forget did you?"

"Oh goodness, the box alone is beautiful!" Rose's hands were clasped in expectation as her father held the package. She looked up at him with open adoration.

"Go try it on, my lovely." Grabbing the box, she ran up the steps into the house, then flew upstairs to her room. Once inside, she carefully unwrapped the paper and gently folded it back. Even the wrapping was a luxurious commodity to be saved and reused. Imports of everything were valuable, including paper. Judiciously opening the lid, a cry of joy escaped her lips. The loveliest hat she had ever seen sat amidst matching pink tissue paper. Rose carefully lifted out the bonnet to admire before setting it upon her head.

Rushing to the mirror, she tied the silk ribbons into a bow under her chin. Ellen was going to be absolutely green with envy!

Rose had never seen anything so lovely. Eloise Smithson, her lady's maid, appeared at the door. Eloise was much older than Rose but the dear spinster was ever her ally.

"Oh, how beautiful you look, Miss Rose." Rose ran to kiss Eloise, who, as far as Rose was concerned, was far more a member of the family than a servant.

"Father chose well don't you think?" Rose gave a sweet smile.

"Oh yes, indeed he did, little Miss, indeed he did. Run and show your father the bonnet. I have no doubt that he will be pleased with the result of his gift."

Rose rushed from the room and into her father's study. "Look Father, the bonnet is perfect, thank you for the gift." Pippin had managed to wiggle his way inside the plantation house door and accompanied his mistress into the room. The dog gave a sharp bark of approval.

"Rose, I thought I told you that dog was to stay outside when muddy."

"Yes, Father, I'll put him out right away but look, Papa, do admire my bonnet!"

Henry lightly pinched his daughter's cheek. "It is almost as lovely as the face that wears it, my dear."

"Thank you, I love it, Papa." Rose skipped delightedly into the hall, her mind on her bonnet and forgetting her promise to put the dog outside. She climbed the stairs to her room again and watched as Pippin wagged his stubby little tail from side to side while he clambered up the steps beside her. His affectionate eyes gazed at Rose when they reached the landing and the entrance to Rose's room.

Opening the door into her room, Pippin preceded Rose inside and promptly jumped high and plopped into the middle of the bed mud and all. Rose gave a deep sigh. "Oh, Pippin, you really are such a little piglet." The small dog simply grinned back, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with pure joy. Rose knew her bed was his favourite spot to roll about and wallow in—especially when muddy, it appeared. The sight of the dirt on his paws had a twinge of guilt pricking her conscience, reminding her she'd just assured her father she'd put Pippin outside. Rose shook her head at her adored pet. Well, it was too late to worry about that now. "If you want to stay inside, you'd better stay out of father's purview. At least until you get a bath."

Rose gently placed the hat back inside its box and tucked the tissue paper carefully around it. Closing the lid excitedly, she smiled and could hardly wait for Sunday; she could just imagine Ellen's face. It would be difficult not to stick out her tongue when she passed by on her father's arm to take their family seat in the meeting hall sanctuary.

Rose joined her father for dinner in the dining room that evening. Suzanna, their house keeper-cook had once again produced a delicious meal. Poached fish from the James River, sprinkled with chopped walnuts was accompanied by fresh vegetables from their own kitchen garden. Rose watched out of the corner of her eye as Pippin judiciously squeezed in through the kitchen door behind the maid and came to sit beneath her chair. Oh dear, she had forgotten all about him, and he'd evidently forgotten her instructions to stay out of her father's sight. Now she would have to keep him quiet until dinner was done.

As the fish was served and the wine poured, Henry eyed his only child. "Relations between the Colony and England continue to deteriorate, my dear. The call for open rebellion will no doubt soon be upon us."

Rose's attention was split between eating, listening to her father, and trying to keep Pippin's presence a secret. She nodded to let her father know she was paying attention as she dropped yet another tidbit to the dog. Clearly hearing Pippin smacking his lips as he chomped away on his treat, she prayed the sound didn't carry.

"I will have to be very careful, if I am able to maintain the security of Ash Grove, both for myself and for you and your children." Rose took a large bite of the delicious spoon bread; it melted in her mouth.

"I am going to have to go to England, Rose."

His words finally won her undivided attention as Rose looked up from the table in shock. "What? Father, no… must you?" Anxiety caused her to stop eating. Travel across the ocean to England! Oh my, things must truly be serious for her father to do that. It would take such a long time too; he would be away for months on end.

"Yes, my dear. I'm afraid there is no help for it. It will be a long journey but it is my wish that you accompany me." The statement came as such a shock that Rose leapt to her feet.

"Father, I cannot! I do not want to go to England!" Realizing her rudeness, she slowly took her seat but her appetite flew out the door. "Really, Papa, I will be just fine remaining here."

"I'm afraid in this instance that you do not have a choice in the matter, daughter. It will indeed be a long trip. We will be away from Virginia for over six months, perhaps even as long as a year. Rose, I shall require your presence and Eloise shall accompany you. My dear, you are to be presented to the Prime Minister, Frederick, Lord North and perhaps even to King George the Third and Queen Charlotte of England!"

Rose swallowed hard. She could feel the tears flooding her eyes and choking her throat. Knowing that nothing irritated her father more than tears, she struggled to keep them at bay. Pippin took that moment to spy a chipmunk perched on the window ledge just outside the dining room. His sharp bark of excitement startled both Rose and her father. Pippin raced from under the chair. Leaping towards the window, he began to scratch on the glass furiously. His bark was piercingly loud and Rose's hands moved to cover her ears.

Her father jumped to his feet so fast that he pulled the table cloth and upset the wine glasses. "Get that damned dog out of here!" The shouting stirred Pippin to further action and his bark became even more frantic. Rose let out a shriek of dismay at the little terror.

"Stop Pippin!" Pippin tore out of the dining room and ran into the kitchen and then back again. As Rose dove to catch him, she fell into the table and the platter of fish was knocked to the floor.

"Damn it," Henry demanded, "where's my rifle? I'm going to put an end to that nuisance of a dog right here and now!"

Rose implored her father, "Papa, please I beg you no!" Finally managing to grasp Pippin's wriggling body, she raced through the kitchen and out the back door. The little dog wiggled down, escaping her protective arms and took off at top speed to disappear behind the hedge. Rose ran down the steps through the garden and out toward the James River.

Sure that her father would never carry out his threat to shoot Pippin, her mind was centred on the unsettling news her father had imparted at dinner. Rose decided she would never go to England, not ever! She didn't care how mad her father became. Virginia was more than home, it was in her blood, it was where her mother's remains lay. Rose thought she would rather die before she would leave these shores and travel to that strange land called England.

Two weeks later, Rose found herself aboard the British passenger vessel, The Gwendolyn, commanded by Captain Horace Littleton. Rose had done everything within her power to persuade her father to allow her stay behind but nothing she said had swayed him. Though he had foregone punishing her for her disobedience in keeping Pippin outside that day, his threat of a sound spanking finally put an end to Rose's opposition. Although Henry had never before spanked his daughter, she understood that this time he was sorely tempted when he made his threat. Sensing her father's resolve, she resentfully acquiesced to something that was now beyond her control.

Aboard ship, Rose looked up at the massive sails of The Gwendolyn as they caught the wind and helped move the vessel away from Norfolk, Virginia. Her father's one concession was to allow her to take Pippin along on the voyage. Rose had a little carrier built for him and had asked their blacksmith in town to make Pippin a leash. The saucy pup sat panting on deck as the ship rolled to and fro. Rose stood to one side and watched as the sailors danced their way up and down the rigging while the ship pulled out of the harbour. The Gwendolyn was loaded with all manner of passengers travelling to England.

Nearby, several children argued over a hoop. Rose sighed, six long weeks aboard this horrible block of wood and all for what? For all sake and purposes, she felt that she was sailing into the heart of enemy territory. Rose had never paid much attention to politics before but she considered herself an American as did nearly everyone she knew. She couldn't understand why her father would not move forward and declare himself a patriot instead of behaving as a loyalist. He told her over and over that he meant to maintain ownership of Ash Grove and he was going to make any political moves carefully.

When Rose told her father that she believed principle to be more important than financial gain he abruptly told her to keep her own council or she might otherwise find herself begging bread on the streets of Richmond and Ash Grove held in the grip of the British crown.

How sick and tired she was of being told that she was too young to understand the difficult path her father trod in these duplicitous times. After all, many of her ex-school friends had long since married and a few even already had their first child. Rose felt that eighteen was plenty old enough to have an opinion. However, her father, it seemed, did not agree.

Rose gently rolled Pippin's rubber ball up on the deck and watched as he chased it. She moved to the ship's rail and surveyed the shores of Virginia growing ever fainter in the distance before finally the shore line disappeared completely. She settled herself on the quarter deck and slipped her mother's locket from around her neck. Popping open the latch, she peered at the tiny miniature the locket held. The face that looked back was so much like her own that she felt she were gazing at herself. "If only you were here, Mama," Rose whispered. "I am certain that Papa would listen to you."

The days became one monotonous bore and Rose wondered if time had decided to stand entirely still. She felt marooned in the middle of the never changing grey Atlantic. The very sameness of each and every day was utterly tedious. The sea was calm and the weather set fair and, thankfully, they were not plagued with any major storms. Captain Littleton seemed pleased with his ship's progress, as the prow of The Gwendolyn sliced through the endless grey expanse of water.

Rose watched with interest while the navigator sighted the horizon with the sextant and even talked him into explaining how the instrument worked. She asked about star constellations that were so bright in the clear evenings and she learned to spot the Bear and the Plough.

Walking around the deck one morning, Rose met a young lady named Emily Jones from Brookneal, Virginia. Emily was travelling with an old lady, a Miss Endicott, who explained that after disembarking at Greenwich they would be travelling on to Bath. The old lady had inherited a small cottage from her mother's side of the family and she was on her way to claim it.

Emily's parents had been indentured but their seven year commitment was finished when Emily was old enough to find work. She had applied to Miss Endicott's advertisement for a lady's companion and was lucky enough to be chosen. Emily was a little older and worldlier than the protected Rose. Though Emily did not have the education to become a governess, she had found her employment as a companion to Miss Endicott the perfect placement.

Rose enjoyed hearing about the frontier where Emily's family had lived. Her exciting tales of Indians and the less civilized areas of the Colonies helped to pass the time of day. Rose had seen an Indian or two but Native Americans had been forced from Virginia over a century before and Rose's father did not let her go traipsing about in the wild.

Before long, Emily and Rose became fast friends and spent many hours during their days at sea.

Emily adored Pippin and the two girls played with the dog endlessly trying to keep him busy and active. Although Emily and Rose came from two very different worlds, social class was not quite as strictly enforced aboard the ship amongst the passengers and so these two young women formed a unique bond of companionship.

"I've four brothers, Rose," Emily told her one day. Rose simply could not imagine such a large family. "They're all younger than me and so I had to help Mama an awful lot; I know that she will miss me."

"Oh, Emily, I am certain that she will," replied Rose, "and I for one have been so very glad for your company. This voyage would have been interminable without your friendship to sustain me." The two young ladies shared their hopes and dreams for the future and both wondered what life in England would be like for them.

Being wealthy, Henry could afford a small private cabin which accommodated both himself and his daughter. Eloise, as a servant, was stowed away with the other third class passengers down below deck. Despite the far better accommodations, Rose wondered if perhaps she'd fare better if she shared even a tiny cabin with her friend. She'd no idea her father snored so loudly. If that weren't distraction enough, Pippin often lay beside her head and snorted his doggy breath unpleasantly across her face. She thought that if she did not get off The Gwendolyn soon she would surely go quite mad.

She was still quite angry with her father and they had barely spoken two words the entire seven week voyage. Silence was difficult to maintain in such a small space and by the time they pulled into Greenwich, Rose's nerves were frayed.

The morning land was finally spotted, all the passengers rushed to the ship's rail. The shores of England grew ever larger on the horizon and Rose's stomach dropped. When they finally reached Greenwich, the docks were even uglier than she imagined. Dark and dirty, the wharves were full of busy seamen shouting as they unloaded cargoes. Never had the rolling hills of Virginia seemed so far away, indeed they were almost a world away.

The sailors nimbly scrambled up and down the rigging as the ship made port. Pippin rested happily in her arms while they watched the entire goings on. She tied the sturdy little leash around his neck and bid him follow her as the gangplank was lowered. Several sailors lugged the passenger trunks and her father led the way as Rose followed him out into the dreary dockland.

Emily and Rose hugged good-bye on the dockside. Emily slipped a piece of paper into Rose's hand. "This is the address of Miss Endicott's new home. If ever you get a chance, please come and visit me. I will miss you terribly, Rose."

Rose's eyes welled up with tears. Emily had no idea how much Rose would miss her too. "Oh, Emily, I don't know how I would have survived this journey without the comfort of your presence. I don't know where we will be staying in London but I promise that I shall send word as soon as I am able. Thank you for everything." The two embraced long and hard. Rose slowly turned to face her father, who had procured a carriage for them to take them into London and their lodgings.

Rose had to hold Pippin's leash with both hands when he made a run for a nasty yellow eyed rat scampering across the docks. Climbing quickly inside the carriage, she shuddered at the sight of the enormous rodent. Pippin placed his front paws on the window to watch the sights go by. Eloise took her place beside Rose and Henry tapped the carriage roof with his cane. The carriage moved off with a lurch. Henry finally turned to talk to his sulking daughter.

"You will have only a short time to adjust to your new surroundings, my dear. London will be quite different from home, I know, but given time, you will come to appreciate this country. It is the mother of our colony after all. I expect that you will willingly show deference to me as your father and end this wall of silence you have managed to erect between us these past weeks."

Rose gazed out the window with Pippin and refused to answer. If her father thought she would ever forgive him for forcing her to come to this God forsaken country, he had another think coming. Henry knew her as sweet and amenable but he had no idea just how stubborn she could truly be. Her father could force her to leave Virginia but he could not force her to talk to him.

"Very well then, Rose, if that is how you wish things to be, I tell you I actually prefer your silence to your insolence." Rose stubbornly set her jaw as she watched the world go by outside the window. The docks gave way to town and then to city as London began to look more medieval by the minute. Rose had to admit the sheer age of the place was impressive. The old Tudor houses leaned over the streets and hawkers and merchants lined the thoroughfares. The carriage finally pulled up in front of a most impressive town house. Rose disembarked and descended into a cacophony of street noise.

"Oi gov'nor, gotta penny for a rose?" An old lady with no teeth and a basket full of flowers accosted Henry.

"Be gone, foul beggar!" he spluttered whilst Rose looked on with sympathetic eyes on the old lady. Pippin wagged his tail at her but the lady turned and morosely left. If Rose had been speaking to her father, she would have asked him for a penny for the beggar woman but as it was, she wasn't willing to break the silence between them just yet. Thankfully, her father disappeared into the house and went off with the butler leaving Eloise to help Rose explore their new home. The house had four bedchambers on the first floor and attic bedrooms for the servants. Pippin settled into the bedroom that Rose selected for herself at the back of the house, away from any street noise. Pippin sniffed around the floor and found his way into a corner where he promptly turned about three times before he curled into a ball. Rose found a little bowl and filled it with water for him and set it upon the floor. So then what now…

Her father informed her that he had urgent business with the English Crown and that he absolutely needed her presence to complete a particular business transaction. He made everything sound so desperate and dire that Rose wondered what he could possibly be up to. What could having her here in London possibly accomplish for him? She knew how to pour tea and make Johnny Cake, but beyond those things, she was like a fish out of water in this vast place. She doubted looking pretty at the dinner table was necessary for her father to accomplish a business transaction. Her father had been extremely mysterious about the whole trip and no matter how Rose pried, he refused to give her any real information. She finally gave up and thus began not a wall of silence between them but a war.

Henry was an ambitious and wealthy man and he was set on expanding his wealth within the Colonies. Rose thought that perhaps it was the reason they had travelled so far. The original land grant of Ash Grove had been granted to her grandfather but Henry didn't seem to be satisfied with that. The crop of tobacco that the plantation raised netted him a handsome profit but that didn't seem to satisfy him either. Perhaps he was here to negotiate a higher price for shipment to England?

Rose could not guess her father's plans and since Henry was not forthcoming, she decided to make the best of a difficult situation and see as much as she could of this exotic new country. Exhausted by the journey and weary to her very bones of travel, Rose undressed down to her chemise and lay across the bed to sleep. Pippin, hearing her settle, hopped upon the bed, turned around three times and curled next to her. Despite the fact that she could still feel the sway of the ship though on unmoving soil, the lack of the resonant tone of her father's snores allowed her to quickly fall into a deep sleep.

Chapter Two

Benedict, Lord Mortimer, jumped into the green scummy water of the pond and waded toward the drowning puppy. He grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and lifted it clear of the water. The reason it had been struggling became immediately apparent, water weed was entwined about the puppy's hind quarters. Both the poor creature's back legs were knotted with the stuff. Benedict tucked the small animal into his waistcoat, weeds and all, then made his way to the pond's bank, where he scrambled out.

"My Lord..." Roberts, the butler, looked horrified when he came face to face with the bedraggled Benedict entering the hall at Merriton.

"Roberts!" Benedict mimicked the butler's voice as he laughingly made his way through to the withdrawing room where his sister Imogene was practicing on the harpsichord. She stopped playing and began to giggle when she spied her older brother entering the room, soaking wet and covered with green slime.

"Benedict, what the deuce? Mother will have a pink fit if she sees you in this state!" Benedict grinned cheerfully pulling out the pathetic little scrap that he had rescued from the pond.

"I went fishing and caught a dog-fish, Immy. Have you ever seen such a pathetic little scrap of a thing?" Imogene leapt up from her stool at the harpsichord, and ran over to her brother, stretching out her arms for the tiny creature. Benedict handed over the puppy just as it was, still dripping slime and weed, in total disregard to his sister's pretty, pale green sprigged dress. She cooed at the puppy with equal disregard to her gown, clasping the shivering animal to her breast.

"Poor little mite! I wonder how it ended up in the pond."

"Village children I shouldn't wonder. What breed do you think it might be, Immy? Looks a bit like a Collie to me but I can't really tell, not with this foul weed covering the creature." Benedict began to pull strands of pond scum away from the dog's legs and they dropped down onto the Persian carpet.

"Benedict! Stop that at once! Just look at the mess! Oh, Imogene, your lovely gown! Whatever is going on here?" The Dowager, Lady Beatrice Mortimer, otherwise known as 'Mother' to Benedict and Imogene, swept regally into the drawing room. She stood before the bedraggled group and cast her eyes up and down over her two adult children. "Really... Anyone would think the pair of you had just left the nursery! Is that... pond weed?"

Benedict winked at his sister and grinned at his mother. "Pond weed and a dog fish, Mother. Show her, Imogene."

Imogene held out the now whimpering puppy and the Dowager's face softened. "Oh my," she breathed, gently taking the trembling puppy from Imogene, "what has happened to it?" Benedict explained all and then the three made their way out of the room and into the hall together. Benedict called for a footman and instructed him to take the pup to the boot room and give it some milk and then a warm bath, before fetching it back to the drawing room once again.

After the puppy was returned to the family, it was plain to see the dog was indeed a small collie bitch. A dog bed was procured and Benedict named the pup 'Holly the collie', which tickled them all.

After a few weeks of good food and kindness, the dog filled out and became Benedict's shadow. Holly's intelligent green eyes followed him whenever he moved about the room and soon the two were inseparable friends.

One morning, while the family was still seated at breakfast, a footman arrived. He bowed and presented Benedict with a wax sealed note. The paper was of the highest quality and the seal caught his eye and made his eyebrow lift in astonishment. Frederick Lord North, Prime Minister, what on earth? Benedict ripped open the letter and his face paled as he read the contents. Beatrice looked at her son anxiously, "Benedict, what is wrong?"

He shook his head and gulped. "I cannot believe the audacity of the man!" he spluttered angrily, handing the letter over to his mother. Beatrice took the proffered note and scanned it quickly.

"An American girl... Matrimony! Oh, Benedict, whatever shall you do?" Beatrice sat back in her chair and fanned herself with the letter.

"By Hades, I shall travel up to London and confront the blasted man. The bloody audacity of the fellow, ordering me to marry this colonial chit!"

Imogene leant forward and asked excitedly, "Lord North has commanded that you marry someone? Whatever have you been up to, Benedict, and whoever is this woman?"

"I haven't been up to anything! Really, Immy, I worry about the conclusions that you jump to about me, I really do!"

Beatrice handed the letter across to Imogene and stood up walking over to pull the bell pull. A footman arrived and bowed his head, "Ma'am?"

"Fetch Roberts please, Jones," she instructed.

"Very good, ma'am," Jones left the room and Benedict followed him out, muttering darkly to himself.

"Why has Lord North chosen Benedict to marry this girl do you think, Mother?" Imogene asked, placing the offending letter down on the table next to her plate.

Beatrice glanced at her daughter and sighed, "I feared something of this nature might occur after your brother snubbed Lady Amelia at the debutant ball last year. She wanted Benedict for her gal Margaret but he was having none of it. Amelia has the King's ear and I might be wrong in my supposition but I suspect she is behind the whole of this. As to the gal, I have no idea who she is but I am quite certain she must be of some consequence for the King and Lord North to consider her as matrimonial material for a peer of the realm. Finish your breakfast, Imogene, I am going to see Roberts and arrange for us to travel to London with Benedict. This episode will require diplomacy and if there is one thing that your brother Benedict lacks, it is tact!"

Holly whined anxiously, sensitive to the charged atmosphere in the room. Imogene patted the dog's head absently, thinking about the drama unfolding. If Benedict had to marry this American woman, Imogene realized she would become her sister-in-law. What a lark that would be! Really, what an exciting morning this had turned out to be.

Benedict met up with his chums at his gentlemen's club later that day. He swung his calf over the arm of his chair and eyed his childhood friend, Charles, Viscount Weston, over the rim of his brandy glass. "So, Charles, what d'you think, a bloody American chit the next Countess of Straddock? By Gad it don't bear thinking of! She'll be a hoyden, goes without saying."

Charles's lip twitched but he managed not to laugh... just, "Oh come on, Benedict, you don't know that for a fact, she might turn out to be a real beauty! What is the gal's name?"

Benedict shook his head gloomily. "Rose Randolph, she sounds like a bloody stage actress. North will make damn sure that she has the countenance of a donkey, you can be sure of that! The man hates me, I spurned his god-daughter Margaret Beauchamp last year and now he has me by the nuts and he intends to squeeze." Viscount Charles gave in to his mirth and bellowed with laughter. "Mortimer, old man, I have to say... rather you than me, old fellow! When do you get to meet this colonial gal?"

Benedict swigged back his brandy and reached for the decanter, raising it high, he waggled the crystal container at Charles; the Viscount nodded and held his glass out ready for a re-fill. Once their glasses were filled, Benedict sat back and sighed. "This Saturday, it seems that the King and Queen are throwing a reception party for these Randolphs. Apparently Henry Randolph has enormous influence over the views of the colonists and there has been a lot of unrest out there recently. This marriage is to build a bridge to foster good relations with the Americas and I am to be the sacrificial lamb. Come on drink up, old chap. If this is really to be my last week of bachelorhood then I want to visit the ladybirds at Madam Angeline's every night this week!"

Chapter Three

The next day Rose awoke refreshed. She broke her fast alone and begun the day by exploring the house in Wilton Crescent. The butler, Wicks, told her that it was situated close to Buckingham House which had been recently purchased by the King for Queen Charlotte. It was known now as the Queen's House because she spent so much time there.

Number Ten Wilton Crescent was a luxurious and well-appointed house which came equipped with a butler, Wicks, a cook, Mary, and a house keeper, Mrs. Twill. Rose's bedroom was decorated with heavy pink toile wall hangings, matching curtains and bedding.

Eloise unpacked and hung everything in the large armoire in the dressing room adjacent to Rose's bedroom. An ornate dresser held her silk stockings, chemise, petticoats and nightgowns. The beauty of the room did nothing to soothe Rose's morose mood and even Eloise's attempts at cheerfulness made no difference.

"Goodness, Miss Rose, have you ever seen the like of such a place? You will have many a tale to take back home after seeing all this." Eloise smoothed the skirts of Rose's dresses and reached up high to hang them on the rack. "You're a mighty lucky girl, indeed you are."

Rose trailed her finger along the back of the sumptuous settee, a matching wingback chair sat nearby. She eyed the fancy porcelain dogs sat either side upon the mantel.

"Eloise, you don't need to try and cheer me. You and I both know that I have no wish to be here."

Eloise turned to her mistress with a frown of concern. "I know you don't want to be here, my dear, but there is no help for it and you might as well make the best of it. You must admit, miss, tis a lovely house."

"Yes, I suppose that it is." Rose heard her father's footsteps down in the hall. His fist was soon pounding upon her door, Eloise opened it and Henry hurried inside.

"I hope you appreciate this home, my dear. It's not every day one gets to stay in a mansion provided by the Prime Minster of Great Britain!"

"Yes, Father. Eloise and I were just saying how beautiful it is. I do sincerely appreciate it." Henry frowned at the rather formal and flat response but continued without comment.

"There is to be a reception at the Palace, this Saturday, daughter." Henry cleared his throat and harrumphed in a more demanding fashion than usual.

"It is to be hosted by the Prime Minister, Lord Frederick North himself and none other than the King and Queen of England will be attending! You are expected to be there, child. This will be a momentous occasion for us both to be sure." Rose's father crossed the room and stood behind a chair. He looked a little nervous and Rose grew curious. Henry flexed his fingers back and forth in anxious motion.

"I must inform you, daughter dear, that there is to be an announcement at this reception, one that you would do well to show proper gratitude toward. After all, it is an enormous honour for a young woman to be engaged to a titled English Lord." At this pronouncement, Eloise discreetly slipped from the room as Henry slipped into the chair. The door gently closed unnoticed by father or daughter, who now sat across the small table from one another.

A heavy feeling of doom crept over Rose. A hard knot formed in the pit of her stomach and she felt a lump grow in her throat. Instinctively, she knew the words her father had just spoken were the real reason he had forced her to come to England. No doubt he had waited to tell her until now because he knew it would upset her.

"There is no way to soften this blow, daughter. The reception Saturday evening is to announce your engagement to Benedict Lord Mortimer. He is a very high ranking peer and a close counsel to the King. Your marriage to this man shall secure your future as well as the future of Ash Grove in these uncertain times. I hope you understand your importance to the success of this venture. I require your full cooperation."

The blood drained from Rose's face as she stared at her father in mute horror. She felt the room spin and saw black spots before her eyes. She tried to focus on her father who was now frowning at her; he was unable to disguise the look of guilt that crossed his face.

"The wedding will be held at Westminster… at Christmas tide." Rose's eyes filled with tears as she gazed at her father. She simply could not believe how duplicitous he had been, and that her own father had arranged all of this without a word to her.

"I am to go to the highest bidder, is that it, Father?" Rose asked quietly, staring Henry in the eye.

"Stuff and nonsense, my girl, highest bidder indeed… I simply wish to secure the best marriage possible for you."

"I doubt you would have sprung your trap upon me had Benedict Mortimer been a farmer's son, Father. Kindly leave my room; I want to be alone."

Henry rose from his spot, pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, and wiped the sweat collecting on his brow. "Now, Rose… I know that this is difficult, but…"

She looked away unable to stomach his presence a moment longer. "Just leave me be, Father," she said quietly.

Too ashamed to answer any further, Henry turned and left. Rose thought she would die from sorrow, betrayed by her own father! Engaged and married off without her consent! Left behind in England to rot for the rest of her life all because of her father's own selfish desire for position in society!

Rose knew that she would never, ever, forgive him, no not ever! She decided that she would never marry Lord whatever his name was. If her father thought the Colonies were giving England problems, he hadn't seen anything yet!

Rose locked the door of her room and refused to admit anyone, even Eloise. She refused to answer when the evening meal was brought and again when breakfast was delivered to her upon a tray. Her father pounded upon the door but stopped short of breaking it down, aware that it was a borrowed house from the Prime Minister after all.

"Rose, you silly, stubborn girl, I have no doubt you shall emerge from this room when you get hungry enough. Stay there and starve then for you'll not hear from me again!"

Eloise was sent to plead with her. "Miss Rose, I know this is a terrible shock for you, just terrible, but you must listen to reason. Your father has made an appointment with a dress maker today. Please, dear, come with me. You have nothing appropriate to wear at Court. The reception is tomorrow night. Your father will force you to go if he has to, please, just open the door, Rose."

Rose immediately imagined wearing a dress made out of flour sacks to the reception. Wouldn't that just put her father over the edge? None of this was Eloise's fault, however, and Rose decided to play along for the time being. She was going to formulate a plan that would make her father sorry he had ever birthed a daughter.

Rose slowly opened the door. "Thank goodness," Eloise exclaimed, "We must leave as soon as you've taken a bite to eat. The appointment is in an hour and who knows how long it will take us to get there. London is such a crowded place." Eloise set a tray of victuals down upon the table and began straightening up the room. Rose sat down and took a small bite of bread and butter.

Eloise continued to chatter nervously watching her charge eat. "I'm so very sorry, that events have unfolded as they have, best to stay busy and keep your mind off things."

"Yes," Rose replied. "I shall be ready in a moment, Eloise. I find that actually I am hungry and must eat first but I thank you… for everything." Eloise looked up from the pillow that she was fluffing and gave Rose a sympathetic smile.

"Very well then, miss, I shall meet you downstairs as soon as you're ready."

Rose gave her hair a few little pats and then made her way down the steps to where the carriage awaited her. She, Eloise and Pippin wound their way through the streets of London, finally pulling up before a discrete shop front and the driver helped them both down. Excited by the busy street, Pippin gave a sharp bark and set off like a streak of lightning. Eloise gave a warning shout but it was too late. Heedless of Rose, Pippin dashed against her. She nearly toppled over as she threw her hands in the air with a high pitched scream.

Before she knew what had happened, a broad chest and a pair of strong arms crushed her in a heavy embrace. Confused and certain that she was under attack, Rose pushed away as hard as she could. "Unhand me, sir!" Outraged, Rose struck out a small fist and Pippin, sensing her distress, immediately attacked her assailant. He dashed for the ankle of the villain and went to work with white teeth bared; Pippin's canines clamped down like a vice.

"You bloody vicious, little mongrel!"

The man dodged Rose's fist by ducking and tried to shake Pippin off his leg. Pippin's hold was loosened and the dog gave a startled yip as the man's shoe met the dog's ribs.

Rose stood directly in front of the bully who was now holding her by her arms, trying to right himself. She barely reached the man's shoulders. "How dare you attack my poor little dog? You, sir, are nothing but a-a brute!" Rose then slapped him as hard as her small gloved palm was able, right across his handsome English face.

His face indeed! He was so handsome that Rose's mouth dropped open and she stepped back to peruse his jet black hair and bright blue eyes. Despite the violent circumstance, the gentleman gave her a grin causing his periwinkle blue eyes to twinkle. Rose forgot where she was and stood entranced.

The man was accompanied by two friends who immediately broke the spell. "I say, old man, what's this?" they said teasingly.

Rose reached down and protectively picked Pippin up into her arms. Woeful, he licked her hand and made a sad little face, adding a soft whine for effect. "My little Chickadee," Rose crooned and then she noticed blood staining the gentlemen's ankle. Pippin was indeed a terrier terror.

"Ooo," Rose stammered, "oh dear, your poor ankle, I think I owe you an apology, sir."

The man looked down and gave a small shrug. "Tis only a scratch, madam, a mere trifle." He smiled at her briefly before the look on his face took on an instructional air. "You know, it is altogether improper to allow such untrained pets to run loose within the street, especially one as vicious as this."

The Englishman flashed his gleaming teeth and completed the look with deep dimples on either side of his perfectly formed mouth. "I shall forgive you this time, dear lady. You are obviously unaware of the proper decorum but that is to be expected, for did I not catch a hint of the Colonies within your speech?" The man was actually trying to cajole her. Rose had never been so insulted in her life.

Ooo! Rose stamped her foot. Handsome or not, he was rudest man she had ever met. How dare he patronize her! "You sir, have the manners of a-a pig. If I were a man, I would teach you a lesson with my fists!"

At first, the Englishman's brows drew together in a menacing scowl, but when he looked down at her very small fist now holding onto Pippin's leash, he suddenly threw his head back and laughed! He actually belly laughed at her. His companions joined in with the merriment. One leaned upon another's shoulder and wiped the tears from his eyes with a silk handkerchief.

Rose turned away in a huff; she could feel her face burning with shame. She motioned Eloise inside the modiste and then stomped into the dressmaker's shop herself with as much dignity as she could muster but then she spoiled it by slamming the door.

"Goodness gracious me!" A woman, whom Rose assumed was Madame Emile Emmerson, came forward, with her young assistant close behind. Through the window, Rose saw the group of gentlemen go on past the shop and down the street, still chuckling together.

"Pardon me, Madame but I was accosted by some buffoon outside on the street and am feeling a little flustered."

"Je ne sais quoi…" the lady flew to the window and leaned against the glass peering out, "buffoon in zee street!" Her head fluttered back and forth causing her tightly curled hair to spring to and fro. Rose wanted to giggle at the sight for Madam looked like a clipped poodle.

"I see only zee Lord Mortimer and zee Viscount Weston. Ah yes, and Monsieur Thomas Wiggington. Surely you must 'ave been mistaken ma cherie? Zees fine gentlemen would have come to your aid should you have been accosted by zee buffoons."

Rose narrowed her eyes, Lord Mortimer! She placed Pippin down and raced to the window beside Madame Emmerson. "Which one is Mortimer, oh do point him out!" she exclaimed.

"Ah, cherie, ee is zee 'andsome one in zee middle. Zee one with zee bright eyes of blue."

"Oh dear…" Rose squealed, "oh no!" Rose placed a hand to her forehead. Why couldn't he have been ugly and fat to boot?

Eloise stood shaking her head. "Well, this looks to me like you've met your… " Rose quickly interrupted her.

"Oh excuse us, Madame Emmerson, I am Rose Randolph and this is my maid Eloise and I beg your pardon for causing confusion." Rose raised her eyes to Eloise with a silent plea; Eloise remained quiet, keeping her mistress's counsel.

"Ah, oui, oui, no 'arm is done ma chérie."

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Madam. I am very glad to be in your lovely establishment, which has come highly recommended to me. My companion, Pippin, has accompanied me as you see. I hope that is all right with you?" Madame Emmerson knelt and Pippin wagged his stubby tail and jumped in her arms.

"Ah! mignon, chérie, le petit chien! We shall be very glad to have Monsieur Pippin within our modest establishment."

Rose took in a shaky breath, now what was she going to do? The maze of events became more complicated by the minute. She had no idea how she was going to extricate herself. The image of Benedict Lord Mortimer was burned into her heart and brain. She shook her head to remove it and began to gaze about the modiste with interest.

The array of fabric and frippery was beyond overwhelming, row upon row of ribbon, silks, damasks, cottons and wools, colour upon colour. Why, the ribbon choice alone made all of Williamsburg look like a dry goods store on the frontier; Rose was in heavenly awe.

Madame Emmerson gave a knowing smile. "Zere are many colour choices, non?" She directed Rose to the back of the shop where she told Rose to undress down to her chemise and corset. Madame and her assistant measured and poked and prodded Rose while they chattered together about silks and colours excitedly.

"Zis will be absolutely beautiful on you, ma cherie, parfait pour un royal reception, non? Pink rosebuds for zee trim also pour all of the garments, oui? Your signature note—rosebuds, for a beautiful Rose, quite fitting pour vous, oui?" Madame Emmerson picked out the loveliest shimmering pink silk fabric that Rose had ever beheld. It set off her green eyes and made her hair look like it held streaks of sunshine.

"Yes, Madame, it is truly the most beautiful fabric I have ever seen." Madame Emmerson beamed with pride.

"Zee rosebuds trim for a rose unparallel, oui!" Rose couldn't help herself. Lord Mortimer or no, she grinned from ear to ear.

"You must be overjoyed, eet eez quite an honour to be invited for an audience with zee King." Rose nodded and tried not to show her discomfort. The dress was going to be finer than anything she had ever owned before. Eloise told Madame Emmerson that she was to make five new dresses for Rose and the pink was to be delivered the next day.

"Ah!" Madame fluttered. "I shall 'ave to employ five more seamstresses for such a task!"

"Mister Randolph said to spare no expense, Madame. The final four dresses can wait but the pink must arrive before tomorrow evening." Handing Madame Emmerson a bag that clinked with coin, the dress maker smiled and assured them the dress would be delivered punctually.

Chapter Four

Benedict looked about the throng of elite guests and tried but failed to locate Lord North. He wanted to get a glimpse of the American chit he was supposed to become engaged to. He only hoped that she possessed some of the sparkle of the pretty colonial lass who had slapped him a couple of days ago. He grinned ruefully, the little termagant! She had been rather exceptional too, with her golden hair and wide green eyes. Benedict would have enjoyed teaching her pert little behind some manners and had she been alone and not tailed by her sour faced maid, he might just have done so. However, the presence of a maid indicated that she was not some low born hussy to be idly toyed with.

While Benedict was day dreaming, he failed to notice the arrival of Frederick, Lord North himself, accompanied by a distinguished middle aged gentleman wearing the usual powdered wig until they were standing in front of him. On the gentleman's arm was none other than the colonial rebel herself! She was dressed in an exquisite rose coloured gown. Benedict was so surprised that he nearly dropped his goblet of claret. The gown didn't hold a candle to the woman wearing it. Her skin glowed like creamy milk and her green feline eyes sparkled as they reflected in the candlelight. His eyes came to rest upon the pout of her lips then dipped to her lovely décolletage.

"Lord Mortimer, may I present Mr. Henry Carter Randolph of Virginia and his particularly lovely daughter, Rose."

Benedict couldn't quite believe his luck. The beauty that had slapped him was the very same beauty he was to wed! He composed himself and executed the perfect leg. A female voice cried, "You!" He glanced up, a trifle surprised by the tone used; he was face to face with his colonial assailant. Benedict couldn't help himself and he made the mistake of grinning. The young lady concerned was so incensed that she took the opportunity to assault him for a second time. She raised her gloved palm to administer a quickly executed slap upon his cheek.

Lord North looked shocked and the chit's father boomed, "Rose, stop this instant!" Benedict flashed out his arm and clasped the girl's wrist in his. He pulled, reeling the young woman in until she was pressed up against his chest. He lowered his mouth to whisper into her ear.

"Well met again, my lovely, but should it cross your pretty little mind to strike me once again, you can be assured that I will strike back and it won't be your face that will suffer. Should I have to retaliate, you won't sit pretty for a good while, my dear." Rose's face suffused with colour as she determined his meaning and she yanked her wrist out of Benedict's hold. She spun about and fled away into the crowd of elegant bystanders, whilst her father, embarrassed, struggled to explain away her very rude behaviour.

Benedict watched Rose leave, his lip twitching with amusement. Perhaps this marriage would not be such a dreadful thing after all? A picture of the delectable creature turned across his knee had Benedict's balls tightening and his pego throbbing. He looked forward to schooling the wilful Miss Rose Randolph in the behaviour expected of her by a peer of the realm.

The presentation to the King went as expected and Benedict agreed with His Majesty that Rose seemed to be a suitable young woman who he would be proud to call wife. It was planned that Benedict should make a formal declaration to Rose at a picnic to be arranged by Benedict's mother, Lady Beatrice, in Kensington Gardens, on the coming Sunday.

In seventeen twenty eight, Queen Caroline, wife of George II, decided to take three hundred acres of land from Hyde Park and turn them into separate gardens. She employed Thomas Bridgeman to produce the new designs for this garden. She named them Kensington Gardens since the area had a splendid view of Kensington Palace. The new gardens had a strip of water, channelled in stonework that was called a Ha-Ha. This divided the more formal flower gardens and the Round Pond, from the wilder and much larger Hyde Park.

In the meantime, back at the reception, dancing had begun and a cotillion was called. The young men sauntered over to the young women before selecting a dancing partner from amongst them. Rose stood next to her father who was busy reprimanding her for her earlier behaviour.

"Honestly, daughter, I hope you haven't ruined your chances with Mortimer." Henry looked as if he were going to strangle her and Rose cringed. The crowd drew back and dragged Rose and her father along with them. Musicians began to play and the dancers began forming up.

Rose took her father's arm as they stood near to the wall but Henry was soon distracted and left Rose in the care of some elderly dowagers, none whom she knew. They ignored her completely, seeming content to simply whisper among themselves. Rose gazed down at her toes wishing she could disappear.

A pair of silver buckled shoes appeared in her downcast vision and her gaze snapped up. Benedict grinned at the beautiful young woman as a look of panic crossed her face and she flattened herself against the wall.

"Miss Randolph, may I take your hand for this dance?" Rose flushed prettily at his request.

"Oh no, no, sir, please, I-I don't know this dance, I will ruin it." Rose placed her hands behind her back and Benedict thought perhaps she was doing her best to melt into the wallpaper. He moved beside her and whispered kindly in her ear.

"Let us stand and watch for a moment, Miss Randolph. The ladies will face the gentlemen, curtsy, yes, now the gentlemen will bow and so there they go. Now the ladies will move to the right and the gentlemen to the left. Surely you can copy their movements if I am there to guide you, Miss Randolph?" Benedict smiled down at her, he watched as the candlelight cast a glow upon her face. She seemed entranced now by the dancers. Benedict decided that he had never seen such a lovely creature. A long curl escaped from her elaborate coiffure and lay tantalizingly over her breast. Benedict gave a hard swallow; he longed to place his lips against her ear and trail kisses down her creamy neck. Oh lucky curl, to lie upon her bosom where he himself would like to lay his head. Slowly his arm reached down and his hand caught her gloved one gently, yet Rose tried to pull away.

"Truly, Lord Mortimer, I would rather not dance this night." Benedict would not take no for an answer. Placing his arm about her, he led Rose out onto the dance floor.

Rose nervously copied the other ladies' movements and all seemed to be going rather well until everyone appeared to gallop about, suddenly weaving in and out in a complicated turnabout.

Poor Rose found herself standing alone and so she stopped, standing absolutely stock still. A giggling group of older ladies stood watching her. Their eyes centered upon her as they raised their flickering fans to cover their spiteful gossiping faces, leaning in one to another to whisper vitriol.

A firm arm slid suddenly about her waist, scooping her along and back into the midst of the dance. Benedict swept her forward amidst male chuckles of delight. He spun Rose about and she found herself once again in line with the other female dancers. They all curtsied to their dancing partners and again the gentlemen gave courtly bows to the ladies.

When the dance was done, Rose placed her hand upon Benedict's arm as he led her off the dance floor. She smiled shyly up into his cornflower blue eyes. "You were most kind, I thank you, sir. I am certain those ladies that hid behind their fans thought I had but two left feet."

"Have no fear, Miss Randolph, those ladies were far too envious of your beauty to be concerned about your dance steps. I always look out for my own and you, lovely creature, are about to become my very own. I promise you, dear lady, that I shall always protect you from harm."

"Ah, but then who shall protect me from you?" Rose murmured shyly as she looked away.

Benedict lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath warm against her face. "No one shall ever be able to protect you from me. Believe me when I tell you, Miss Randolph, you won't want them to, either."

Benedict watched as goose flesh sprung up along Rose's shoulders and smiled inwardly to himself. He was going to enjoy instructing the lovely Miss Randolph in the joys of marriage and her duties as his wife. Oh yes, very much indeed!

The reception that evening was not intended to be a late night affair and Benedict was sorry to see Miss Randolph depart shortly after their dance. No matter, there would be plenty of time to enjoy his courtship of her. It was obvious she was inexperienced and an innocent; Benedict smiled to himself. He was in good spirits anticipating their next meeting, the picnic where he was to propose to her.

Sunday dawned bright and clear, perfect picnic weather. The house servants spent all morning setting up trestle tables and laying out rugs and comfortable cushions upon the grass. Chairs were carried over to the park by the footman for the more senior members of the group and the cook nearly had a breakdown when one of her special ham and chicken raised crust pies, came a cropper on the way to the venue. Luckily there was plenty of food and so no one would miss one pie.

The invitation list had been kept short, with only thirty guests attending, mainly young friends of either Imogene or Benedict. Benedict saw Rose arrive with her father and stayed where he was with his friends, watching her surreptitiously. She looked lovely in her pale lemon coloured tea gown as she twirled a matching parasol between her white gloved fingers. Benedict smiled, she was nervous, he could tell. Her wide-eyed gaze glanced from side to side, no doubt looking for him. She gave a nervous laugh when introductions were made and executed many a wobbly curtsy.

Benedict waited for a full hour allowing the guest of honour to calm down before he approached her. He was quite sure she would be overjoyed at what he had planned and chuckled to himself, imagining her smile of happiness.

To his delight, Rose wandered away from the throng and amused herself studying the flowers in the flower beds. Benedict circled about his crowd of friends and came up quietly behind her. "Miss Randolph, may I call you Rose?" His words startled her.

The little madam frowned and said firmly "No." She then turned up her nose and gave Benedict her back.

Benedict's brows drew together. He decided to overlook her rude behaviour and continued, using his most charming smile and winning voice. "Well, my dear, it seems that we are destined to be wed."

Rose turned toward him at the mention of marriage. She had a look of such utter fury on her face that Benedict was unsure whether to continue or not. Perhaps Rose wasn't feeling well but then she might feel better after he made his declaration and so he continued.

"Being a traditionalist and also a romantic," said Benedict, dropping to one knee, "I would like to ask for your hand in marriage and thus do me the very great honour of becoming my wife."

It was somewhat of a shock to his sensibilities to find himself summarily shoved backwards onto the grass as the object of his affection ran helter-skelter in the opposite direction of the gathered picnickers, heading speedily toward a coppice of trees.

Benedict ground his teeth, enough was enough, by gad! He would start as he meant to go on. He leapt to his feet and dusting off his pale grey breeches and deep blue cut away coat, he strode determinedly after his little American wildcat. He caught up with her rather easily despite the fact that she was running and he simply striding. Rose was severely hampered by her dress and petticoats, also by her silly silken slippers, utterly useless for running.

She also had to contend with the constriction of her stays. Still, she seemed surprised at just how close Benedict was until his arm snaked out and pulled her to a jolting halt. She was panting badly and completely out of breath; she had no fight left in her. Nevertheless, she let out an enormous squeal when she found herself upended over her betrothed's hard thigh.

Benedict grasped Rose and spun about to where a sturdy branch from a magnolia tree sprung forth at just the right height to support his foot. He secured her about her waist and lifted the light material of her dress and two petticoats, leaving the third down for modesty. Benedict took a moment to admire her heart shaped bottom before raising his hand in the air to bring it down forcefully with a hard swat against Rose's thinly clad behind. There was a shocked squeak from somewhere down in the region of Benedict's boot and then a flurry of ankle kicks, which resulted in some painful slaps to Rose's drumming legs.

"That's enough of that, young lady. Keep those legs down, or I shall smack those as well. Rose, if you continue to kick, then I will be forced to take a strap to your bottom!" Another kick resulted in a series of sound spanks that soon had Rose howling. "Desist!" Benedict warned.

Rose acquiesced and kept her legs down. The spanking continued on in much the same vein. Benedict was thoroughly enjoying dishing out a much needed lesson in manners to his American cousin from across the sea. He could see how pink her bottom was becoming through the thin white material of her petticoat. Benedict spanked hard and fast, the gasps and sobs coming from the punished Rose trailed off into hiccupping pleas for mercy. Benedict grinned; good, she was learning her lesson at last. "Rose, I intend to let you up in a moment but I want a promise from you first." Rose nodded and yelped when her backside received a volley of smacks. "A verbal response would be polite," said Benedict in a firm instructional voice.

"Yes, sir!" she whimpered instantly.

"Now then, I shall ask once again. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? By the way, Rose, think carefully about your answer before you speak this time, my dear," he warned her. Benedict waited but heard no sound. "Rose, what is your answer please?" She didn't make a peep. Benedict couldn't even hear any sniffling. Becoming concerned, he lifted her from his knee and stood her on her feet. Her hair was mussed and her hat was at an odd angle but amazingly still sat, albeit crookedly upon her head. A tear trailed down her cheek. Benedict's hand swept the curls from her eyes and tilted her face up to his.

Her head dropped back and he brought his mouth down to claim hers. His lips seared her as his tongue softly traced the inside of her lower lip. Ever so shyly, Rose began to respond to him. She touched the tip of his tongue with her own and opened her mouth to receive his. Benedict warmed to the task and he deepened the kiss thoroughly getting to know every inch of her young mouth. Benedict was more than satisfied; he had her—she was his. As he released her from his kiss, he smiled down into her lovely face which held a dreamy expression that softened her green eyes and curved her bow shaped lips.

He lowered his gaze taking in the delectable swell of her bosom; he was growing rampant, his manhood pressing uncomfortably against the fall buttoned opening of his breeches; Benedict suddenly found himself looking forward to his wedding night. Teaching this delectable peach the joys of the marriage bed would be a far from arduous task! In fact, he found himself imagining all sorts of wicked and wanton deeds featuring Rose as his star pupil. Yes, he decided that after all, this marriage was most definitely cause for celebration.

The little miss opened her dreamy eyes wide and gave him his answer. "No, I do not wish to marry you, Lord Mortimer, for I wish to return to my home in Virginia." She immediately tried to leave, but Benedict held her to his side and rejoined the gathering. Much to Rose's chagrin, a toast was made to the happy couple and afterwards she had to stand with Benedict's arm clamped about her waist, receiving each member of the party's warm congratulations.

Benedict looked down with amusement at his fiancée's miserable face, really she only had herself to blame for this afternoon's debacle. Rose would come around, especially after he had given her the engagement ring that had belonged to his grandmother and which she had bequeathed to him for his future bride. Benedict knew that his younger sister Imogene would also help Rose to settle as Lady Mortimer. He knew that Imogene was longing to spend time alone with Rose so that she could get to know her soon to be sister-in-law a little better.

Beatrice was certain that her son had spanked his lovely new fiancée that afternoon. She knew the signs, after all hadn't Benedict's father taken her in hand on numerous occasions? Benedict was certainly a chip off the old block and took after his father. Beatrice smiled sadly. What she wouldn't give to be starting out on the wonderful new adventure of marriage once again. Really, Rose Randolph had no idea of the delights yet to come. Beatrice sighed, the lucky, lucky gal.

Chapter Five

Merriton was as ready as it would ever be for the annual autumn house party. This year was different of course. This year the future Countess of Straddock was to attend and the house servants were agog with the news. Each member of staff from the lowliest scullery maid to the Head Butler, Roberts, did their best to make Merriton Hall appear to its best advantage. They were of nervous excitement, wishing to please their future mistress and every servant fulfilled their task with fervour. Cook was absolutely determined to showcase her abilities to perfection, which meant that each member of the kitchen staff suffered under her sharp tongue.

Rose had not been able to formulate a plan to avoid the up-coming nuptials. The date for the house party arrived and she was compelled to visit as planned.

Lord Mortimer sent her a nosegay of flowers every day from the time of the picnic up until the day of their departure. She managed to toss several into the scullery rubbish, until cook insisted they go to a more worthy cause so they were taken to a local foundling home. The image of being upended over Benedict's knee with her skirts tossed over her head and his unrelenting palm coming down on her backside played over and over in her mind. She was beyond furious. In fact, she was positively livid, so the thought of accepting his tokens of affection nauseated her. Her father told her that she was being petulant and quite silly but after several arguments with him about her attitude to the intended betrothal, they were once again on non-speaking terms.

Wide vistas of hedged fields full of contented fat sheep accompanied their travel to Merriton Hall. The carriage wound up the long gravelled driveway, and all the while, Pippin bounced upon the seat barking out the window at the livestock. This was a most prosperous looking stately home and as the carriage came to a halt, Rose was speechless. A lovely stone façade with sweeping Palladian steps led up to a pair of oak doors carved with the family's crest. There was nothing in the Colonies to compare to such a place, even the Governor's mansion in Williamsburg paled into comparison.

Several footmen greeted the entourage and Pippin happily bounced down the carriage steps after his mistress. A beautiful short haired, brown and white Collie dog trotted over and Pippin immediately ran towards it across the lawn. The two dogs greeted each other as if they were long lost friends and took off running across the grass. Little traitor, thought Rose with amusement.

She gazed up at the forbidding mansion before her; it was hard not to be intimidated by such grandeur. No matter, Rose didn't care that Benedict lived in a house that resembled a palace. Rose was indifferent to his wealth and status. As far as she was concerned, they were not engaged to be married and she was so homesick for Virginia that thought sometimes she might die. An overwhelming wave of sadness swept her heart and she felt that every step she took toward the house was a step toward the gallows. Well, as her aunt used to say, "There is more than one way to skin a cat." Rose would make that British prig rue the day he ever crossed her path.

Once they had all entered Merriton Hall, Rose and Henry were introduced to Lady Beatrice, Benedict's mother. Even though she must have been in her fifties, her beauty had not been diminished over the years. Benedict's dark good looks came directly from her and she possessed the same piercing blue eyes. Benedict's sixteen year old sister, Imogene, was delightful and seemed in thrall with the American guests. She had large curious brown eyes and soft fudge coloured hair to match. There was a hint of Beatrice about her, but for the most part, Rose suspected Imogene favoured her father.

After their greeted arrival, the ladies retired to their chambers, expected to rest for most of the afternoon. Rose was more than happy to take a little refreshment and enjoy a quiet lie down. She was exhausted from travelling. By late afternoon, a quiet knock sounded at her bedroom door. Eloise she knew to be downstairs with the other servants and Rose couldn't imagine who it might be.

"Come in," Rose called and Imogene Mortimer's head peeked in around the side of the door.

"I hope that you don't mind, Miss Randolph, I simply wished to say hello, away from all the other guests you know."

Rose patted the bed. "Come sit beside me."

Imogene raced over to Rose's side. "I am so very glad to have you here, it is a great pleasure to get to know my new sister." Imogene gazed at Rose with awe like devotion. "My goodness, how lovely you are!" Rose smiled at Imogene for she appeared to be such a sweet girl. This was someone who could perhaps become an ally and a major asset in her quest to punish Benedict. The two girls chatted and giggled happily as they enjoyed getting to know one another. Rose was overjoyed to learn that Imogene had been taking harpsichord lessons.

"Do you know any English folk songs?" Rose asked her.

"Um, I'm not very accomplished at the harpsichord as yet and my tutor despairs at my lack of ability," Imogene replied modestly. "Actually, I don't much like to play. I can manage a little Handel reasonably well enough now though."

"Oh, that should be perfect for us to do a duet together. Let's see, do you know, 'Where e're Ye Walk?'" Imogene's face lit up.

"Oh, my music master has been teaching me that and we have worked on the piece."

"Excellent!" Rose clapped her hands. "We shall perform it together this evening after dinner."

Imogene looked rather nervous. "Well, so long as you understand that I am only just learning the piece. I really do not practice as much as I am supposed to. I think it annoys Benedict that I am not improving as I ought."

"Not to worry, you shall be wonderful I am certain! Let's keep this between us as a surprise. Just between you and me until the performance, of course." Innocently, Imogene happily agreed.

Everyone gathered for dinner. The dining room was lavishly lit with candelabras. The twinkling candlelight glinted off the family silver and heavy crystal goblets; the table was laid for a sumptuous feast. Rose sparkled and charmed every person at the table. Benedict looked as if he wanted to devour her but Rose pretended not to notice him at all.

Beatrice kindly leaned toward her, smilingly. "Have you any accomplishments or special interests, my dear?"

"I enjoy painting with water colours and I do credible needle work, Lady Beatrice, I also like to sing. We do have a little culture away across the sea in the Colonies." Rose gave a humble smile and looked down at her plate.

"Oh, my dear, how delightful. You must sing something for us tonight after dinner. Imogene is gradually becoming accomplished on the harpsichord."

"Yes," Benedict murmured, "that is one way of putting it."

Rose agreed and Imogene shifted excitedly in her seat.

"Imogene, sit still and remember your manners, my dear!"

"Yes, Mama." Imogene looked crestfallen and embarrassed but Rose gave her a wink and Imogene's lips lifted as she smiled back.

When dinner was finished, Imogene crossed to the music room and sat at the harpsichord. She began to tap at the keys as the guests made their way, glancing at each other, from the dining room into the music room. Tonight Rose was to entertain and she could hardly wait for her recital to begin. Her father beamed with pride as he bragged of Rose's vocal prowess. "Why, my daughter has the most beautiful singing voice in all of the Colonies," Henry stated, nodding and puffing out his chest. "Why she even sang at the Governor's ball last Christmas."

The Mortimer's took their seats in the front row of chairs, placed there by the footmen, ready for the evening's entertainment. Rose's father chose to relax on the settee nearer to the harpsichord. Benedict leaned forward with interest from his front row seat. Rose stood next to the harpsichord with her hands clasped, back straight. She curtsied and then placed her white gloved hand upon the polished case of the instrument and gave a slight nod. Imogene began the introduction.

A sour note was obvious in every other phrase and it sounded as if one of the house cats was pouncing upon the harpsichord keys. The pace of the tune consequently suffered, the tones rose and fell embarrassingly out of key.

Rose began to sing and her notes were, indeed, beautifully rounded; the vowels rang true and the consonants were given perfect concussion.

"Where're ye walk, cool gales shall fan the glade;

Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade:

Where're ye tread, the blushing flow'rs shall rise;

And all things flourish where're you turn your eyes."

The audience was captivated. Rose's voice had a crystal, melodious quality and her high notes were even more beautiful than the low ones. Not one misstep did she make. Her voice was so lovely no one even noticed Imogene's struggling performance as she plunked heavily at the harpsichord. A spell fell over the room and Rose flowed easily through each verse. She sang louder and louder as she came toward the end of the piece. Imogene crashed the keys as hard as she could moving into the final flourish. Rose opened her mouth and sang at the top of her lungs, "Trees, where you…" Rose mixed the words sit with shade and bellowed, "Trees, where you SHIT... Shall c-r-o-w-d in-to… uh… shade."

The room froze. No one knew what to do, should they clap? Should they laugh? Rose watched as her father turned bright red, beginning with his bald pate the colour spreading down his whole face and neck. Rose could see the parlour maid snickering by the door and the footmen all had their heads lowered and didn't dare to look up.

Benedict stood quickly and loosened the cravat at his neck. Rose blinked wide-eyed at the crowd. "Uh, I am so dreadfully sorry, I meant, 'trees' where you shit… oops, I mean, sit, and shall crowd into a shit, uh… oh!"

"Rose, that is quite enough, my dear," Benedict said as he quickly crossed toward her, attempting to manoeuvre her away from the harpsichord. "I'm sure we all know that you meant another word entirely." Meanwhile Imogene sat at the harpsichord with her mouth gaping open with shock.

Rose pressed a gloved hand to her lips to keep herself from giggling as hysterical laughter bubbled up from inside her.

The next morning, the conversation remained somewhat stilted. Rose's swearing mishap amidst her song had cast a pall over the place. At breakfast, Rose could tell Benedict was unsure whether she had intended to do it deliberately or not.

Well, that was perfect; she now had him just where she wanted him. Benedict went to the sideboard and helped himself to eggs, bacon and kidneys. Sitting back down at the table, he shook out his white napkin.

"I should prefer it if we took a small break from any more musical recitals, just for a little while, Miss Rose," he said looking uncomfortable. Rose looked up with rounded innocent eyes.

"Oh? Well yes, my Lord, perfectly understandable. Truly my gaff last night was absolutely unforgiveable."

Benedict cocked a dubious eyebrow at her. "Perhaps not unforgiveable but certainly uncomfortable. Rose, please do not call me, my Lord, it is all together appropriate for you to call me by my given name now that we are officially engaged." Rose set her jaw stubbornly but made no reply. It would be a cold day in hell before she became as familiar as that with him! She would rather call him nothing than refer to him in such a personal way.

Chapter Six

Rose finished her breakfast and excused herself from the table. She gathered that others had awakened from the sound of their footsteps as people made their down the stairs. She preferred her own company to that of others and she certainly had enough of Benedict Mortimer's presence. Deciding to take a stroll out into the gardens, she went out through the back of the house via dark passages and storage rooms. Formal English gardens flowed out from the house and quite the loveliest rose garden Rose had ever encountered spilled down the hill.

She walked in amongst the scented roses, plants and perennials. Pippin was digging for all he was worth in one corner of the garden and Rose called to him. He raced toward her and she picked up a stick and threw it for him, he would never retrieve it but would run like a rabbit, bite at the stick and then keep on going. Rose laughed merrily at his antics. The Mortimer's young collie, Holly, acted as Pippin's shadow but she retrieved the stick returning it to Rose, proffering it held within her soft mouth, to be thrown over and over again. Imogene had told her the collie's name the day before, Rose laughed at the rhyming, Holly the collie.

After their fun, the two dogs ran up to her for a pat, their tongues lolling out of their mouths and panting with exertion. Rose reached down and gave them each a good rub. Then they flopped over onto their backs for a belly rub and she happily obliged. Rose thought that Holly was absolutely beautiful. She had the classic shape of her breed, uncannily human green eyes and she appeared to be extremely intelligent. It seemed she had found a new friend in Pippin who was busy teaching her some naughty new tricks that the obedient collie would never even have thought of if not for the terrible terrier! The two of them had nearly destroyed one corner of the flower garden with their demented digging, their paws covered in mud… hmm, that gave Rose an idea…

Rose skipped into the house via the boot room and both the dogs followed her in. She had found a side entrance that presently did not contain either guests or servants. Arriving at the top of the stairs leading into the main entrance hall, Rose opened the door and the dogs happily ran inside. Rose watched from a crack in the partly open door as they raced down the hallway on into the main section of the house. Each canine carried the evidence of their morning dig upon their paws and coats.

Rose covered her mouth as she giggled hearing Benedict's roar. "Who let these dogs into the house in this state?" Interpreting his yell for a shout of pleasure, Pippin's sharp bark set off Holly who then joined in with her deeper collie voice. Rose could hear scrambling and more barking. "Somebody get these blasted dogs out of here… Roberts!"

Rose skipped away leaving Benedict to deal with his dog dilemma. She had espied a lovely fish pond on her walk and it beckoned her outside. There was a garden seat set to one side and she rested beside the lily pool enjoying the late summer sunshine. Truly, Merriton Hall was beyond beautiful; it was fit for a princess. Rose gazed around the well-kept grounds and back up at the old mellow house. Any girl would give anything to become the mistress of such a place... any girl except her.

Rose's thoughts drifted to Benedict. Why oh why did he have to be so handsome? Whilst in the country, he kept his long dark hair unpowdered and tied in a que at the nape of his neck. Rose wondered what he would look like with it spilled loose. She thought again about that kiss he had given her at the picnic. It made her shiver and caused a fluttery feeling deep in her stomach. The spanking, however, made her temper flare and reminded her how much she wanted to return to the Colonies, where her world was familiar and safe.

Rose explored, wandering from the gardens into a field, and turning to look back at the house, she noticed the stables past the left hand side of the main house. Rose decided to meander over that way next. The head groom was working inside and gave her a polite, yet warm greeting, "Mornin, mistress, Able Brown at your service."

"Good morning, Mr. Brown, I am Rose Randolph, how do you do?" Mr. Brown tipped his hat.

"May I look at the mounts?" Rose asked.

"Of course, mistress, there be a nice gentle mare, third stall down, her name be Abby, t' master said she were for your use."

"Oh, thank you. Do you have a curry comb I could use? I'd love to brush her out."

"That be no job for a lady, ma'am, Jimmy the stable lad will do for ye."

"If it's just the same with you, sir, I'd like to do it myself. If I am to ride Abby, she needs to get to know me."

Mr. Brown pushed his hat back and raised his eyebrows. "Yonder be the curry combs, help yerself, lass." Rose crossed to the wall of combs and brushes and chose one from the shelf.

"Thank you kindly, Mr. Brown."

Rose walked along the horse stalls until she came to Abby's. She was a beautiful roan English saddle horse, she had large brown eyes and a darker mane; her long face looked kind and gentle.

As Rose entered the stall, Mr. Brown called after her, "Beware of the Master's stallion, mistress. His stall is down from Miss Abby's. He's a brute of a horse and Devil's Fire be his name. The Master calls him Devil for short. Mind me now, mistress; no one handles him but the Master."

"Of course, I understand," Rose replied. No one other than the Master had handled him until now, she thought, Devil's Fire indeed. She had heard the horse thumping about in his stall while she crooned to Abby. How appropriate that Benedict should own such a horse, why, he even had the same temperament as Benedict did!

Abby clopped over to Rose and nudged her with a soft nose. Rose stretched out her hands and let Abby smell her. The horse's sensitive nose twitched back and forth and Rose patted Abby's sleek neck. "You are a beauty, girl." Rose then went to work with the curry comb.

"I see you've found Abby." Benedict's deep voice came from the door of the stall. Rose looked up as she ran the brush now over and over the mare's flanks.

"Yes, I thank you for the mount, my Lord." Benedict stood still and watched her for a few moments.

"The groom usually does that job."

Rose continued to comb. "A mount needs to be acquainted with its rider and grooming is a good way for a horse to get to know your touch."

Benedict leaned against the gate as he gazed at Rose.

"You seem to know horses, are you a good horse woman?"

"I seem to do all right with them," Rose said as she finished with the brushing and stepped to the stall door which Benedict held open for her. Devil temperamentally kicked his stall and Benedict glanced in his direction. Rose shook her head, nodding at the stall. "I've already been warned about him."

"Good, you're to stay well clear of him, do you understand? He can be a dangerous animal." Rose nodded but made no reply and she decided to change the subject.

"I overheard that there is to be a pheasant shoot this afternoon. I wonder if I might attend, I do so enjoy shooting."

Benedict looked surprised. "No, I am afraid that ladies are not permitted to shoot, it is for gentlemen only."

"At home I shoot and hunt. I really don't see why I shouldn't do it here."

"It simply isn't a proper place for a gently bred girl," Benedict said. He looked serious but Rose wanted to laugh at him until he continued talking. "Your home is here now, Rose, so you may as well begin to get used to the idea." Benedict rubbed his chin and then said, "I can see that you are quite the accomplished little colonial girl. You ride, you shoot, you… sing, impressive. Indeed, I wonder what other hidden talents you might possess."

Rose looked down her nose at him, though she had to tilt her head up to do that. "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out, won't you, Lord Mortimer?" Benedict scowled at her as she waltzed away from the stall. He tried to accompany her back to the house but she nimbly skipped ahead of him. She flounced her skirts and slammed the door before he arrived at the entrance. Benedict did not miss the insinuation that he was surplus to Miss Rose's requirements.

That evening, Benedict entered the withdrawing room and found that card tables had been set ready for a game of whist. Luckily, Rose's father adored playing cards. He had taught Rose to play and she was quite adept at the game. She seated herself across from Imogene and paired with her. Viscount Charles and Benedict took the other two available seats. Imogene shuffled the cards and looked at Charles, saying, "How did the shoot go this afternoon, gentlemen?"

Charles watched as Imogene dealt. "I did rather well actually, bagged myself a number of birds but unfortunately poor old Mortimer's luck was skewed again. What is it with you and guns, Mortimer? Every year something goes wrong on the shoot for you, damn bad luck old chap!" Imogene, knowing her brother, exchanged a quick look with him that was not missed by the sharp eyed Rose.

Play continued and Benedict was surprised by Rose's adept knowledge of the game. She and Imogene were winning, three tricks ahead of the gentlemen. Was there no end to this beautiful young woman's accomplishments? He was, in fact, delighted with her. When he thought of the milksop English miss who he could have ended up shackled to… well, he thanked God for Frederick Lord North and his most timely interference.

Benedict determined to engineer some time alone with Rose that evening. She looked delectable in her blue silk gown. In fact, she looked adorable in whatever mode of dress she wore. Benedict remembered Rose in the pale green riding habit that she had worn earlier that day. She cut more than a delectable figure. Of course, what he wanted to see her wearing most of all was well, absolutely nothing.

Benedict watched Rose as she dealt the next round of cards, her fingers deft, and her smile enchanting. His eyes fell to her bosom, which swelled prettily but decorously out of the lace from the neck of her gown. Benedict's hands ached to cup each soft pillow. He longed to tweak her nipples and hear her wanton sighs…

"Benedict… Benedict, hey wake up, old chap!" Charles snapped his fingers in front of his friend's eyes and Benedict realized that he had fallen into an erotic day dream, the unfortunate effect of which was sending blood pounding into his shaft. He shuffled his chair further under the table to hide his tell-tale erection from view.

"Whatever the deuce is the matter with you tonight, Mortimer? Your turn to play, come on, we cannot let the ladies win don't y'know!"

The girls did win but the gentlemen were magnanimous in their defeat and fetched the ladies petite fours and punch for a welcome refreshment. Chatter moved on to other things and Benedict took the opportunity to ask Rose if she would like to see the orangery.

"Thank you, Lord Mortimer, but I'd rather not, I find that I am a little fatigued this evening, I shall seek an early night."

Chapter Seven

Benedict leaned across the table. "Perfect then, my dear, for there is nothing like a stroll in the orangery to bolster one's constitution." He rose and grasped his intended's elbow so that Rose was forced to stand and follow him. Pausing to light a candlestick, he led the way through darkened hallways and out to the back of the house.

They faced a set of French glass doors and Benedict directed Rose inside. He pulled the door shut behind them. Inside, the room felt extremely warm and moist and it was scented by subtropical plants collected over many years by Benedict's father and his grandfather before him.

Benedict took Rose's small hand in his and guided her over to where the enormous orange tree grew. Upon the lush foliage there were several large and brightly coloured fruits. They hung heavily suspended from the branches. He reached up, twisted a rounded orange off from a stem and presented it to her. The lady took the proffered fruit and held it to her nose, inhaling the delicious scent.

"Thank you, I shall have this with my breakfast tomorrow." Rose gave a deep sigh. "We have apple trees in Virginia, the harvesters will be picking them about now." She quickly brushed a tear away before it could fall down her cheek.

Benedict reached out and gently drew her into the shelter of his arms. "We too have orchards, dearest. I am here to give you anything that you desire, even if it is only apples! You see, Rose, I only wish to make you happy, you only have to ask me, darling, and it shall be yours." Rose lifted her tremulous face to his.

"I only wish to return to my home in Virginia."

Benedict pulled away from her with frustration. "You are an enigma, Rose Randolph. I have any number of beautiful ladies throwing themselves at my feet, begging matrimony. Mothers even beg me to take their daughters off their hands and yet, you, who I want to marry, refuse me. Why must you be so stubborn?" He crossed to stand and gaze out of the orangery's darkened glass walls. "I had no desire to marry you once upon a time either, Miss high and mighty," Benedict said, turning on her in anger. "Did you know that I am ordered by the Crown to marry you, Rose? In the beginning, I would have gladly sent you packing on your way back to Virginia, had the choice been entirely mine. However, now that you are staying here as my fiancée, then as my wife and as my Countess, I assure you that no amount of sulking, or temper tantrum on your part, will change the inevitable, Miss Randolph." He wagged his finger at her.

"If you persist with this silly and, may I say, quite childish behaviour, it will behove me as your affianced, to put you across my knee and spank your stubborn, hoyden behind. You will do your duty for your country, Rose, just as I will do mine. Do I make myself quite plain, madam?"

Benedict scowled and crossed his arms but quickly unfolded them when a missile in the shape of an orange came whizzing past his head. Rose bolted to the door, wrenched it open and flew out. Benedict could hear the slap of her silk slippers fading away as she ran back down the darkened hallway.

Putting his head in his hands, Benedict berated himself. Bloody hell, he'd handled that badly. He'd spoken out of turn and in anger. He had no desire for Rose to know just how much of a hold she had gained over him. He simply couldn't get the chit out of his mind, her voluptuous form; the swell of her bosom, her intoxicating scent had him in some sort of sexual thrall.

What had started as a compulsory relationship had quickly turned into a chase and Benedict was the one doing the chasing. Perhaps he should change tactics? Rose would soon discover what manner of man her future husband was for he would brook no more sulks and tantrums from her. Any such antics would be met with her upended across his knee and if the little termagant continued to defy him, then his riding crop would soon redden her pert little backside.

Benedict closed up the orangery and strolled determinedly back toward the drawing room. The battle lines had been drawn.

The following day had him searching for his intended. He looked about the house and asked the maids and footman alike if they had seen her but none had. He wanted to invite Rose to ride with him. He thought that if perhaps she saw the beauty of the estate grounds and met some of their tenant farmers, she might feel happier about Merriton Hall becoming her home. After a fruitless search, Benedict remembered that Rose had been out at the stables yesterday. He walked through to the boot room where Pippin and Holly lay curled up together in Holly's basket. He whistled to the dogs and they leapt to their feet stretching and whining, both excited at the prospect of a walk. Benedict scratched them both behind the ears and patted them as he pulled on his knee-high leather riding boots.

It was a beautiful early autumn day, mist had given way to lemon tinged sunshine and although chilly, it was invigorating, an ideal day to ride. Benedict whistled to the dogs and they followed barking as he made his way down toward the stables as he entered and found Rose standing next to Devil's stall.

His anger pulsed immediately. "By Hades, I thought I told you not to go near that horse." Rose jumped and placed her hands guiltily behind her back.

"What were you doing here, missy?" Benedict strode up to her but could not discern what she had been up to. She gave him her most innocent round-eyed look. He stared into Devil's stall and saw him crunching on something. Knowing he would not get a straight answer from Rose, he pulled her arms from behind her back and found a carrot sticking out of her palm, "Rose, it is not safe to feed Devil, I have warned you that he is of a temperamental nature. You will never do this again and should I find that you have, believe me there will be consequences and I don't refer to the finger you might lose in the process! Stay away from this horse, he is out of bounds to you!"

"I sincerely apologise." Rose looked down at her feet and Benedict sighed. He desperately wanted to lighten the mood. "I thought perhaps you might enjoy a ride around the estate. I actually came down here to look for you."

Rose gave him a smile that would warm even the coldest of hearts. "Oh, sir, I would so love to ride. If you'll show me where the saddle and tack are kept, I'll gladly ready Abby."

"That is the groom's role, dear girl." Benedict called his groom, "Brown, have Abby and Devil readied for riding, we shall return momentarily."

"Aye, sir," Mr. Brown answered, tipping his cloth cap.

Benedict took Rose on a tour of the stables which she found impressive indeed. The coach house was connected to the far side of the building and Rose was amazed by the display of Phaetons and other carriages in Benedict's possession. After looking up at the heavily crested coaches and lighter gigs, she noticed an old building overgrown with bushes and trees set away from the stable block.

"What is that over yonder?" she asked as she pointed.

Benedict looked up and grinned, his dimples giving him a boyish look. "Ah, well now that is my old childhood tree house. However, it looks like there isn't much left of it now. I haven't been down there in years." Rose grabbed him by the hand and took off, dragging Benedict along behind.

"This is exciting, let us go and explore!" Benedict soon found himself surrounded by childhood memories as they sifted through what was left of his old tree house. It had seemed so high off the ground to him as a child. Now, he could look into it by simply standing beside it. No doubt his father had made sure it was built this height to ensure the safety of his son and heir. Rose stood on a tree stump and peered inside.

The wood was rotting and there were the vestiges of wood worm. Here and there lay a broken and dust covered toy. Suddenly Rose gave a cry of joy before saying, "Oh look what I have found!" She held up a several bits of string and leather.

"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Benedict as he gave a joyous shout, "my old slingshots."

"Come along," Rose squealed, "let us go and see if they still work." She handed one to Benedict and he lifted her by the waist down from the stump. She smiled down into his eyes as he held her suspended high above him.

"Don't tell me you know how to use a slingshot too?" he enquired in a teasing tone.

"I most certainly do!" Rose giggled.

"Could you be more perfect? Most young ladies simply sing and dance, which is all very well… but to ride proficiently and use a sling shot? Rose, you are a man's dream companion come true!"

Benedict bent over to pick up a handful of acorns and the two of them walked a few yards away. "You see that broken window, the one without glass, Miss Rose?"

"Yes, I do see that old thing."

"My friends and I used to see who could get the most acorns to go in the window of that old tree house. Want to give it a try?"

"Ah but what prize is mine if I win?" Rose's eyes were sparkling. Benedict gave a huff of laughter.

"What do you want as a prize, miss?"

"If I win," Rose mused, "I wish to go shooting."

Benedict was certainly not worried that Rose was going to win. He had played this game for many years. As long as the old slingshot held out, he had every confidence that he would best her. It was about time too—so far, Rose had thrashed him at cards and he was itching to show her up, naughty minx that she was!

"All right and if I win, Miss Prissy... you have to give me a kiss."

"I just knew you would say something like that," Rose snorted. "Fine, agreed. You have to go first, Mortimer."

"Now I have changed my mind. If I win, you have to call me Benedict from now onward… and, you have to give me a kiss."

"Oh, that is not fair…"

"Those are my terms, my lady, concede them or admit defeat." Rose gruffly agreed and Benedict was overjoyed. There was now far more at stake here than just a game.

Benedict stepped back and set his feet into position. He placed an acorn in the leather pouch and gave the slingshot a spin. Stepping forward he let it fly, the acorn hurled straight and true, right through the old tree house window.

Rose huffed crossly and then she bent over and picked her own acorn and set it into the shot. As she twirling it around, Benedict watched her with a wry smile. Rose had done this before. She gave it a heave and let it fly, the acorn fell with a crack against the side of the tree house.

"Best of three, best of three," Rose called as she jumped up and down excitedly.

Benedict set another acorn up again, and again with the same excellent result. Straight through the window it flew. Rose kicked at the left over acorns lying on the ground.

"I don't like any of these, Mortimer, would you please gather a few more for me? And make them nice and big, I can't win with these scrawny little things."

Benedict groaned, and for a moment he reverted back to his tenth year. "Girls!" he spluttered with an exaggerated eye roll. He walked over to the tree house and bent over to gather several nice fat acorns for Rose. He heard a whir and felt a sharp sting on his left buttock. He jumped up and quickly rubbed the biting sting.

Rose jumped up waving her arms in the air and whooped, "Bulls eye!" Benedict gave her a sharp, narrow-eyed look. He threw the acorns he had gathered down upon the ground and took off after her. Rose shrieked, picked up her skirts and began to run. She was fast this time, wearing her laced up sturdier boots rather than the silly ineffectual silken slippers. Nothing could slow her! She managed to make it to a huge old oak tree, Benedict tried to grab her but she darted around the tree trunk and skittered just beyond his reach. Beginning to run out of breath, she finally took off in the direction of the stables but Benedict caught up with her and lifted Rose with his arms and twirled her about in a circle.

"You are wicked a hoyden as ever I met, Rose Randolph!" he cried and gave a hearty laugh. Rose wrapped her arms about his neck, giddy and giggling. Her hair flew loose about them as he swung her around and around. Benedict's nose nearly touched hers and he could smell her sweet breath as she panted from her exertions. He stopped and stood still as Rose threaded her arms sinuously about his neck. She gazed at the sensual curve of his oh so masculine mouth and then she placed her small hand behind his head and kissed him full upon those firm lips.

"You won, Benedict!" Rose crowed as soon as she pulled back from the kiss. Benedict smiled with surprise as their eyes met. His heart gave a leap when he finally heard her say his given name.

He held her close and refused to put her down. He gently placed his lips back over hers caressing her mouth with his. The tip of Rose's tongue nudged his, causing his pego to stir. Groaning against her lips, he held her tighter. His hand tangled in her soft golden hair and he manoeuvred her head gently to the side at an angle that enabled him to ravage her mouth. She was a mix of honey and intoxicating wine and he was drunk on her delectable charms.

The feel of her breasts pressed up against his chest had him hard and wanting within seconds. By the time he finished the kiss, Lord Mortimer was in an embarrassing state of arousal. He had to rely upon Rose's innocence when they broke apart as the hardened ridge of his throbbing member left nothing to the imagination to anyone who cared to look.

As they walked arm in arm back toward the stables, Benedict looked down at his little mischief maker beside him. "I'm glad I don't have to take you shooting, Rose. I don't like to hunt. I always miss the target on purpose and would far rather enjoy watching living wildlife than take sport in killing them."

It was Rose's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Ah, now I know why you always let Viscount Weston best you at the shoot. You are certainly a most unusual man, Benedict." He gave her a squeeze as they entered the stables.

Chapter Eight

Rose watched Benedict's back from atop Abby as she followed behind him on Devil's Fire as they toured the estate. He sat a horse better than any man she had ever seen. His long hair fell down his back in a neat que and his broad shoulders complimented his narrow waist.

Rose thought about his kisses which had left her breathless. She watched as Benedict's knees pressed the horse's sides, urging his mount onwards and she nearly groaned out loud. She had discussed the mystery of men with her girlfriends while still in Virginia, but at that point, they were all silly girls and none of them knew anything about mating. How Rose longed to talk to her mother about such things. She knew she couldn't discuss such topics with her maid Eloise or anyone else she knew for that matter. She giggled when thought how red her poor father would turn should she broach such a delicate subject with him!

Benedict turned round at the sound of her tinkling laughter. "Are you perchance laughing at me, Madam?"

"On the contrary, Benedict, I was admiring your beautiful estate."

Benedict gave her a wink. "And that was cause for laughter?"

Rose gave a jolly giggle and clicked her tongue, moving Abby next to Devil and his master, "This estate is absolutely stunning, Benedict, it is beyond words, truly."

"I am so glad that you like it, my dear. Perhaps now you can see that it would be a good place to live?" They rode in genial silence for a while. Rose thought about Benedict's angry words spoken the previous evening, 'I had no desire to marry you either'. Until he'd said it, she had never considered the fact that he might be in the same position as she. It turned out they were both compelled by the King to marry someone they did not wish to. In fact, both had been asked to put their own desires aside for their country. She bit her lip before broaching the delicate subject.

"I'm very sorry that you're being forced to marry me, Benedict." Rose looked down as she spoke. "I hope that you won't find marriage to me too difficult to abide."

To her surprise, Benedict moved his horse closer and scooped her from Abby's back. He set her into the saddle in front of him. Devil gave a snort and Benedict gave him a sharp rebuke. Rose snuggled close as she laid her head upon Benedict's chest and closed her eyes. She could hear the clip clop of Abby's hooves as the gentle mare followed on close behind them.

Benedict gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Rose, I have never considered that marriage to you would be difficult or unpleasant. The same cannot be said for you, however. Have you decided to surrender yourself to our vows?"

Rose rubbed her cheek across his fine wool jacket. "Well, maybe not surrender exactly but I think that I am resigned to go along with the plan, yes." Benedict gave a relieved chuckle and kissed the top of her head.

"I would expect no less from you, madam. You know, Rose, many a fine marriage has been an arranged one. Just because it behoves King and Country for us to marry, does not mean it cannot benefit us both as well. I find you… utterly delightful, charming and very beautiful. Each day that passes I find myself looking forward more and more to our wedding day. Tell me is this also the same with you?"

Rose considered his question. If she confessed the truth, he would know that she had dreamed of him last night, that she had looked for him during the day and found that she now enjoyed his company. His kisses were divine and made her ache with desire. Reaching up and toying with the que at the back of his neck, she leaned back to search his handsome face.

"I never wanted to leave Virginia, I love it so there. You saw me at the dance, I am a simple country girl at heart. I don't know or understand all the niceties and what's worse, I don't give a fig for them. I don't want to go to parties all the while and gossip behind fans. I could be happy here at Merriton, I think, if I could simply remain in the country with you."

Benedict wrapped her tightly in his arms. She breathed him in deeply, her nose pressed to his neck. Mmm, he smelled so very good. When he replied, his deep voice held emotion that Rose did not expect to hear. "By gad, madam, that is the best answer you could have given me." They rode to the house, wrapped contentedly within each other's arms.

Arriving back at the stables, Benedict dismounted and plucked Rose from the back of his horse. He set her lightly onto her feet and smiled into her eyes with his deep blue gaze, which made her stomach flutter.

"We had better get back to the house, my dearest. Someone will wonder what has happened to us." Rose heard Pippin's excited bark and he and Holly raced to greet them. The horses were left in the care of the grooms and the two dogs accompanied them back to the house.

"Holly was always such a good and obedient dog before Pippin arrived. Your colonial terror has been a bad influence on her I'm afraid," Benedict said, looking down in disgust as Pippin raced in a circle and Holly lay panting in the grass trying to nip his furry little legs as he danced around her.

"I'm afraid I've let him have far too much free rein, Benedict. Once you begin a bad habit, well, it's hard to break."

"I know that full well, madam, and such a mistake I do not intend to make with you."

"Ooh, sometimes, Benedict, you are absolutely insufferable." Rose's laughter was intended to belie her words but nevertheless a little shiver of excited anticipation ran down her spine. He actually smiled when she stomped into the house and mounted the stairs.

"I shall see you shortly, at dinner, my dear," he called after her.

"Yes, you most certainly shall." Rose stomped up the stairs and made sure her shoes gave just the right amount of noise to indicate to him that she did not wholly appreciate his comment. However, she had still laughed at his words.

It was growing late and she would have to hurry in order to be properly dressed for dinner. Eloise was waiting for her as she entered her room.

"You look happy this evening, Rose, your outing must have agreed with you."

"Yes, Eloise. I must admit, to my great surprise, Benedict Lord Mortimer is growing on me. He can be an absolute wretch but he also has some rather good qualities."

"Well now, miss, I did think as much and I am so glad for you. How much more pleasant it shall be to find a peace between you before you are to wed."

Rose removed her riding habit and handed it to Eloise who brushed it before putting it away. "What do you think, Eloise, which dress should I wear for dinner this evening?"

"Oh, my dear, please do wear the rose embroidered gown. It is beyond lovely and sets off your eyes so." Rose smiled and agreed. Madame Emmerson had made her a cream coloured gown embroidered with pink roses and embellished with wide gold brocade trim. The gold set off the highlights in her hair and would sparkle in the candlelight. Wide sleeve ruffles rested on her forearms and Madame Emmerson set the neck of the gown so that it complimented her delicate shoulders. Eloise put Rose's hair up into a fashionable but complicated style, placing tiny silk flowers throughout. "You look absolutely beautiful, miss." Rose gazed at her reflection. It seemed that the image of her mother gazed back.

"Thank you, Eloise, you have done a marvellous job," said Rose patting Eloise's shoulder. Eloise escorted Rose to the door before opening it for her mistress. "Do enjoy your evening, Miss Rose."

Rose walked down the corridor toward the stairway and as she began to make her way below, she heard unfamiliar voices in the hall. The clop and rattle of a carriage pulling away greeted her ears and Rose hurried down the steps to see who had arrived.

Beatrice and Imogene stood greeting an older, somewhat plump lady and a pinched, rather whey-faced, young woman. The two resembled one another just enough to possibly be mother and daughter. Rose overheard the conversation as she came into the room.

"Ah, Lady Beatrice, I am dreadfully sorry to impose upon you in this presumptive way." The older lady handed her wrap to Roberts.

"Well, of course, you are most welcome, Lady Amelia. I was honoured to receive your request for a dinner invitation, especially since our two young people who seemed destined for one another declined to engage last year. It will put any awkwardness behind us. Especially since Mortimer is now affianced to Miss Rose Randolph from the Colonies of America," Beatrice replied.

"May I say that it was not due to Margaret's lack of affection for Lord Mortimer, I do assure you, Lady Beatrice, Margaret was most happy for an engagement to proceed as planned."

Roberts exited the room carrying the visitor's wraps and gloves. Beatrice looked up and noticed Rose as she entered the hallway.

"Ah, Rose, there you are my dear child. We have guests who will be joining us for dinner. Let me introduce you, this is Lady Amelia Beauchamp and her lovely daughter the Lady Margaret Beauchamp."

Rose gave a deep curtsy. "How do you do."

The two responded in kind, "How do you do."

Beatrice led the way toward the parlour where the men were already gathered. "Do come, I am sure you are most anxious to meet Miss Randolph's father and Mortimer will be delighted to see you both I am sure. It has been a while since we dined together, has it not?"

Rose watched the plump faced Lady Amelia lean over to Beatrice and the woman whispered loud enough for all to hear.

"My dear, she is such a scrawny little thing. When we heard the news we simply couldn't stay away and we couldn't stand to wait for an invitation, hence my hasty note." Margaret tossed an arrogant look in Rose's direction. No doubt the pinched-face Margaret would resemble the plump Amelia in just a few short years. Rose smelled competition for her beau. If these fops thought she was going to roll over and play dead, they had another think coming. She narrowed her eyes at the two and mentally prepared for battle.

When the group entered the withdrawing room, the men were smoking and drinking sherry. Benedict nearly spat out his mouthful with the unpleasant shock of seeing the pair of harridans accompanying his mother.

"Lady Margaret, Lady Amelia, how extremely unexpected, um… how do you do?" Lady Amelia crossed to Benedict and tapped him on the arm with her fan in reprimand.

"Naughty boy, you didn't think you could get away from us that easily did you? News of your engagement reached my ears and Margaret and I decided that we had to come and see for ourselves whether the news could possibly be true. So do tell, is this your Colonial intended?" Lady Amelia raised her eyebrows at Rose. She said the word 'Colonial' as if she were describing a bad smell.

Benedict immediately moved to Rose's side. He put an arm possessively about her shoulders. Gazing down, he proudly stated, "You look quite lovely this evening, Rose. Ladies, may I present to you, my intended, Miss Rose Randolph of The Ashgrove Plantation in the Colony of Virginia. Rose Lady…" Lady Amelia stepped forward and interrupted rather rudely.

"Benedict, your mother has already made introductions. I must say, she's not what we expected, dear me no, not at all." Lady Amelia sneered down at Rose and Margaret tittered, waving her fan about her face as if to ward off noxious odours emanating from Rose. They might hide behind British manners but these two were two of the rudest people that Rose had ever had the misfortune to meet.

Beatrice attempted to ease the tension by introducing Henry Randolph to the mother and daughter. Lady Amelia had even less to say to Henry. Roberts arrived silently then coughed discretely. "Dinner is served, milady." Beatrice took Henry's arm and led her guests into the formal dining room.

Rose found herself seated beside Lady Amelia. Margaret didn't speak very much, except to titter beside her mother in juvenile giggles. Henry Randolph attempted to engage the two ladies in conversation but Lady Amelia was completely disinterested in him.

Leaning over toward Rose, Lady Amelia's gigantic bosom strained against the fabric of her dress. "It is somewhat strange to meet you, my dear Daisy."

"My Lady, my name is Rose."

"Whatever, they're both flowers," Lady Amelia replied. Meanwhile Margaret sniggered inanely at her mother's vicious wit.

"I was saying, it is rather a surprise, my dear Miss Randolph, to find you affianced to Lord Mortimer. Did you know that my daughter, the Lady Margaret was expected to become engaged to Lord Mortimer? His reticence to make a formal proposal has cost him dearly for Lord Mortimer has now been relegated to be paired with a mere colonial chit and has missed the opportunity to marry one of his own set, the poor dear man. I am lucky enough to have the Queen's ear as her confidant and she is very dear to me. In fact, I don't think I would be wrong in telling you that we are almost good friends. I think that perhaps the King and Queen grew weary of waiting for Lord Mortimer to select his own wife and decided to use him as a political tool for the good of England and now he is stuck with just the leftovers from the Colony." Lady Amelia took a sip of wine when she had finished speaking.

Rose was dumbfounded, how was she supposed to respond to vitriol such as this? It was bad enough that she and Benedict were being forced to marry but to find that he was using her as an escape from such a woman as Lady Amelia and her sour faced daughter Margaret was doubly difficult to swallow. Rose didn't care if this rude and arrogant woman had the ear of the Queen or not. Lady Amelia had no idea who she was toying with.

The soup course was served and Rose picked up her spoon. She stirred it as it cooled and waited until Lady Amelia's attention was diverted elsewhere. Rose's accusing stare across the table at Benedict caused him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. She dipped her spoon into the soup and slurped it as loudly as she possibly could.

"Oh, I've never had anything quite so delicious," said Rose and then in a groaning voice, "we don't have anything like this in the poor little old Colonies. Whatever is this wonderful broth, Lady Beatrice?" Rose took another spoonful and slurped even louder causing Lady Beatrice to give Rose a disconcerted look.

"Why it is simply white soup my dear and I agree, it is quite delicious." Beatrice nervously went back to quietly sipping her own serving of soup whilst Rose returned to her loud slurping.

"Do tell now what ingredients are in this delicious soup?" Rose asked, with a pronounced southern drawl.

Benedict gave her a slight shake of his head but she pretended not to see him and ignored his scowling face.

"Err, well I believe it is made of a veal stock, with added cream and almonds but I could arrange for you to speak with Cook if you would like the full recipe, Rose?"

"Why that's real kind of your Ladyship, see we don't get such fancy food out in the little ole Colonies, ma'am!"

Benedict coughed and glared at his mischievous intended, Rose continued to ignore him completely.

Henry Randolph obviously felt the need to explain his daughter's odd behaviour because he then said, "White soup is indeed a rarity in Virginia, I agree with my daughter but we do have a quite rich and varied diet there."

Roasted meats, duck, pheasant and venison were served next, along with side dishes of honeyed carrots, and French green beans. Rose loudly proclaimed her approval, "Ooh roast duck, how wonderful and, Lady Amelia, whatever are these cute li'ole green things? I've never seen anything like these before." Lady Amelia and Margaret stared at Rose and then down at her plate as the footman spooned a serving of seasonal green beans upon her plate.

"Why… why, those are beans, dear child, we know them as French beans here. Do you really not have this vegetable within the Colonies?" Rose took her knife and stabbed at a pod. The bean shot out like a bullet and hit Lady Amelia in her very ample bosom, snaking immediately down the front of her dress; Rose naughtily chased after it.

"Oh, oh my, Lady Amelia, how very clumsy of me… being from the colonies and all I…" Rose wiped at Lady Amelia's breast with her napkin and tried to retrieve the bean.

"Stop it! Stop that this instant you wicked, wicked girl."

Rose picked the duck from her plate and began to eat it with her fingers. Taking a huge bite, she stuffed her mouth full of the greasy meat.

"I fought… 'oo 'eeded 'elp," Rose muttered, her mouth full of greasy duck.

Benedict bought his fist down upon the table with a sudden crash. Everyone jumped and Rose conveniently knocked over her glass of wine which poured into Lady Amelia's lap.

"Oh… I never… in all my life…" Lady Amelia jumped rapidly up from the table, her turkey gobble of double chins, hanging beneath her neck, flapping unattractively. The Lady Margaret began wiping ineffectively at her mother's dress front.

"Your dress, Mama, it is absolutely ruined!"

Benedict stepped around the table and grabbed Rose by her upper arm.

He began to drag her unceremoniously away. "Come with me, Miss Randolph," he told her coldly in his haughty tone.

"But I've only just begun," Rose mumbled, her mouth still full of food, a spray of which landed on Benedict's fine silk coat.

"Believe me, you are quite finished here, my dear." Benedict held onto Rose and escorted her to the bottom of the stairs. "Go to your room immediately and stay there, miss. I will deal with you tomorrow. Oh, and wash the grease from your face, it is a most unattractive look, I do assure you!" Benedict pushed her up the first step after giving her a searing smack upon her bottom. Rose let out a squeak of protest. "Upstairs, now!" Benedict ordered her, his voice furious.

Rose stomped up the steps and this time, she made sure she did so as loudly as possible. Slamming her bedroom door, she flopped down on the bed and sobbed, beating the covers with her small fists.

How could he! How could Benedict throw her out of the dining room like a naughty child when she was the one who had been so wronged? Rose didn't care who Lady Amelia and her insufferable daughter were. The very least Benedict could have done was stand up for her! Ooo, she was so angry she could scream… and to top it all, he said she looked so unattractive!

When Eloise arrived to help her undress for bed later on, Rose asked her to simply leave her be. "Are you certain, miss? I know it's been a difficult evening for you, dear, but at least let me help you into your night gown." Rose reluctantly agreed and also to washing her greasy face. She finally lay down only to endure a fitful night's sleep. Awaking at dawn, she felt just as furious and hurt as she had the previous night.

Chapter Nine

Benedict rounded the bend of the gravel driveway that led down to the stables and stopped. He heard the sound of pounding hooves approaching fast. Horse and rider, melded as one, flew across the grass right in front of him. Benedict gasped, realizing the rider was none other than his fiancée Miss Rose Randolph and she was on Devil riding astride.

He stood stock still, a tic twitching in his clenched jaw, watching as horse and rider disappeared over the brow of the hill and disappeared into the distance. He had most definitely told Rose that she should stay away from Devil and here she was quite deliberately defying him yet again. Benedict vowed that this would be absolutely the very last time Rose would dare to do that.

He arrived at the stables in a filthy temper and barked at the stable lad to tack up Ariel, his chocolate brown gelding. Benedict waited impatiently for the horse to be saddled and tapped his riding boot with his crop. After a moment he looked down at the tapping leather, his hand slowed to a stop. Bringing the pliable crop up into his line of vision, he stared at the plaited leather of the crop, his eyes taking on a gleam.

Once mounted, he cantered off in the direction Rose had disappeared. After an hour of fruitless searching he was about to give up and return home, when he saw Devil charge across the hill in front of him. Benedict touched Ariel on the rump with his crop and gave chase. Devil was obviously flagging now, especially with the way Rose had been riding him at full gallop and for such a long while. Ariel would never have caught up with the much younger horse, had Devil not been winded.

Benedict saw Rose glance back over her shoulder and, spotting him, she stuck out her tongue, urging Devil onward. It was an unfortunate choice of behaviour on her part. Had she slowed and made a pretty apology to Benedict, he might, just might, have forgiven her but then sticking out her tongue and racing on regardless, riding an already exhausted horse to boot, sealed her fate as far as he was concerned.

With grim countenance, Lord Mortimer did something he had never thought to do. He hunted down his quarry, one Miss Rose Randolph, as determinedly as any hunter of wildlife might ever do. She led her fiancé a merry old dance and, more than once, Benedict could hear her mocking laughter floating back toward him on the chilly autumn breeze.

Grinding his teeth, Benedict had to admit that Rose was a fine horsewoman, reckless and thoughtless for certain but nevertheless a jolly good rider. It wouldn't save her from his wrath, Oh no, nothing could do that now, unless of course, the silly chit fell and broke her neck. Benedict froze. A dreadful feeling of fear washed over him. What Rose was doing was terribly dangerous, what would he do if something should happen to her?

Astonished, Benedict realized in that moment that he was truly falling in love with the bewitching, American minx. Rose drove him from fury to desire in the blink of an eye. He had been so perplexed by her, so conflicted, that until just now, when he contemplated the thought of her injured, or worse, Benedict felt quite faint. He was unaware just how deep his feelings ran for Rose. By gad! He loved the girl, when had that happened? This sudden realization made him incandescent with rage, for here she was risking her life and their future together. He would not allow her to do that, not now and not ever.

Spurred on by this inner revelation, Benedict wheeled his mount and doubled back; he cut across the far field and hid in the thicket of trees. He would cross Rose's path when she turned and ran for the stables. Benedict spurred Ariel out from the shadow of the trees and rode straight for Devil and Rose.

Benedict bellowed loudly, "Pull up I say. Halt!" The exhausted animal thankfully obeyed and stood sweating and trembling as Benedict grasped the reins. "Let them go, Rose, you've had your fun and Devil is worn out. You will allow me to lead you both home." The little madam glowered at him but nevertheless dropped the reins. They walked the remainder of the way back to the stables.

Once in the yard, Benedict dismounted and handed his horse over to the waiting groom. He went to aid Rose in dismounting from Devil but he wasn't quite quick enough. The girl took one look at his black scowl, leapt down from the horse and fled with Benedict immediately giving chase. He caught her as she tugged the little used door leading into the boot room and he decided this would be just perfect for his purpose. He dragged the protesting Rose along as he kicked open the boot room door. The two dogs were sound asleep in their basket and jumped up, pleased to have company. As the mood of the visitors penetrated their sensitive doggy souls, the pair soon left the room in pursuit of calmer company.

Benedict hauled the struggling Rose around to stand in front of him and gripped her shoulders. She tried to kick his shins and her exertions loosened her hair which tumbled wildly down her back. Her face was florid and her eyes flashed lividly. She was no match for her enraged fiancée, however, who was absolutely determined to teach her a much needed lesson in obedience and manners.

He shook her until her teeth rattled. "Rose!" he barked, "by Hades, stop this behaviour at once and listen to me!"

Rose gave Benedict the most hateful look he had ever seen. She did something absolutely unforgivable in a lady—she spat at him. The gob of phlegm stuck to his riding coat where it landed.

Rose froze, still at last as she realised that the line of behaviour that she had just crossed would brook her no reprieve.

Benedict took out his silk handkerchief and wiped the offending mess off his coat. He flung the kerchief away into a bucket and turned forbiddingly back to Rose. She gulped.

"Last night you were unaccountably rude to guests in this house…"

Rose screeched, "I was rude! That's rich! Those two insufferable bitches were…"

"Rose, you will desist right now and listen to me!" Benedict grabbed her and shook her once again. She opened her mouth but obviously thought better of it when she saw his eyes narrow dangerously.

"This morning I came to find you, to scold you for your part in last night's drama but also to tell you that I threw Lady Amelia and Lady Margaret out of the house as soon as you had been sent to your room. I told them they were unwelcome at Merriton Hall from this day forward."

If he weren't so angry, Benedict would have laughed at the comical expression on Rose's face. She obviously hadn't expected him to stand up to Lady Amelia and her vicious tongue.

"Now then, how many times have I told you to stay away from Devil?" He waited for Rose's reply but as the silence dragged on, it was obvious that she had no intention of answering him.

"Very well, I have told you at least half a dozen times to stay away from him." Benedict held up his hand for silence as Rose began to sputter.

"I know that you are a good horsewoman, but you took an enormous risk with your own life and with Devil's today. He is too big and powerful for you and yet still you rode him, despite knowing the risks. Then you rode the poor beast almost into the ground. Supposing he had been blown and had to be shot, what then?"

Benedict placed a finger over Rose's lips, as once again she tried to argue her case.

"I have told you that I require obedience from you, especially where your safety and that of others is concerned. I also believe the punishment should fit the crime. I am going to take my riding crop to your disobedient bottom half a dozen times and believe me when I tell you, my darling, this will hurt you far more than it will ever hurt me!"

Rose's eyes flew open at this shocking pronouncement. She made a calculated dash for the door, only to find herself scooped up and swung into the air, head down, landing over a solid masculine thigh.

Her squeals echoed around the high ceilinged room, as did the evil chuckle her beloved let loose as he raised his crop high and thwacked it downward with a satisfying whoosh upon Rose's upturned bottom. Rose's mouth opened wide with shock as she processed the pain. She hollered aloud, kicked and struggled with all her might. It was to no avail, for Benedict was so much bigger and so much stronger than she. He was also determined that she should receive a much needed lesson in attitude adjustment.

Rose had the protection of her petticoat and thick riding skirt over her bottom but the crop was a fearsome instrument of punishment. Benedict knew from first-hand experience how much the crop stung. He had been punished by his father for riding his father's own horse when he was twelve years old. It had been a salient lesson and one which he never forgot.

He hoped that this spanking would impart the same relevant message to Rose, cementing the message that he was the alpha and she the beta within their relationship. With each sizzling strike of the crop, Rose reared up and howled but still Benedict spanked on.

When Rose had received six scalding whacks across her tender buttocks, Benedict threw the crop aside and continued to spank her with his hand.

Finally, Rose slumped. All the fight had left her and she cried piteously. Benedict regarded that moment as the point that Rose accepted her punishment. He drew her upright and into his arms, holding Rose against his chest until her weeping had subsided. Then his mouth came down hard upon hers as he kissed her ruthlessly.

This was a conquering kiss, a kiss that owned, a kiss that sealed a pact betwixt man and woman.

A kiss that claimed a mate...

Chapter Ten

Rose was in love and there was no help for it. The fact that she could respond to his kiss after such a painful spanking was the simple proof. No matter how she tried to resist Benedict's charms or remain angry with him, she just couldn't do it. God help her, but the thought of a stinging spank coming down upon her bottom, delivered by Benedict, made her flush with such desire. Rose rubbed her temples and dubiously wondered about such feelings, I'm a hussy and that's all there is to it. Though Benedict's pursuit did not diminish, Rose's secret longing for him and her confusing attraction, caused her to withdraw from his company during the final days of their stay at Merriton house. She made sure he never found her alone again.

Rose sat in the window seat of her bedchamber, thinking. She gazed out across the rolling English countryside, her thoughts on how the dark haired, blue eyed English lord caused her to go weak in the knees and even weaker in resolve. She thought back to her last encounter with him, two days ago. She had wandered into the library seeking some respite from his overwhelming presence. The library's walls were stacked with books and she perused a myriad of topics. They were truly a wonder, classics of literature, science, military strategy and many, many more. She would happily spend years reading all these books after they were wed. Just as she reached up to pluck one from a shelf, a strong arm encased her waist and a deep chuckle sounded in her ear.

"I have you ensnared, my dear little Rose, and you have surprised me yet again. I did not expect such a youthful beauty to be hiding away in my father's musty old library." Benedict turned her in his arms and Rose placed the book she had chosen between them, however, it offered her little protection.

"I simply wish to enlarge my knowledge of the world. I don't think you appreciate what a treasure you have here in this room, Benedict."

He lowered his lips and began kissing her neck. Rose shivered as he lightly nipped her earlobe.

"Oh, I appreciate it well enough, my lovely. Indeed, you are such a treasure you are certainly worth more than all the knowledge contained in all the books of the entire world."

"I was referring to your library of books, sir."

The book slipped lower in her grasp as Benedict cast an erotic spell upon her. He managed to gently caress a breast. When his thumb rubbed across her taut nipple, the book fell to the floor with a thump. Rose tried to retrieve it but Benedict would have none of it. Drawing her even closer, his lips came down upon hers. He smoothly convinced her lips to open as his tongue nudged insistently. Rose wound her arms around his neck and knotted her fingers in his hair. As his hands continued their work on her breasts, she arched against him. Her hands caught up in his long dark locks unconsciously pulling his head down to her. Benedict smiled into her mouth.

"Gently, my love, gently…" He reached up and took her wrists, unwrapping her fingers from his hair and placing her arms about his neck. In just a moment, his nimble fingers had loosened the front of her dress. Rose felt a searing heat as naked flesh met naked flesh. Her sharp intake of breath as he caressed her bare breasts caused him to groan, his pego pressed tight against his fall.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. Rose's eyes flew wide and she could not miss the look of aggravation on Benedict's face but before a knock could sound at the door, Benedict quickly drew her dress together and said urgently, "Hide behind the settee, my love, I will only be a moment."

Rose hurried behind the couch and crouched low, holding the front of her dress together. What could she have been thinking? If someone had caught her in such a compromising position her reputation would have been totally ruined. She had forgotten herself in the midst of passion. Benedict opened the door to see Roberts standing there. Rose managed to creep to the opposite side of the room and disappear while Benedict was distracted by Robert's questions about the stream of departing house guests.

Rose made it up to her room without being seen but it took a tremendous effort to avoid Benedict the following day. She was afraid his frustration would send him to pound demandingly on her door, but so far, he hadn't gone to that length. Here she was again with the same dilemma as ever. The nagging thought kept going around and around in her head. Benedict Lord Mortimer, Earl of Straddock, made her swoon and her attraction to him was overwhelming. His penchant for taking her in hand only caused her attraction to increase. He could be so persuasive, in many ways, he was more domineering than her father. Now that thought gave her pause for concern. Did she really want to yoke herself forever to such a dominant man? Lusting after a man was one thing but falling in love was totally another. Benedict had told her that he was growing in fondness for her and was looking forward to their wedding but could she truly trust him? Could she really give up on returning home to Virginia again? Rose gave a frustrated sigh as she changed her dress.

She thought of her friend, Emily Jones. She must have arrived in Bath by now. She wondered if Emily and Miss Endicott were going to stay in England permanently. Perhaps if she could simply talk things through with a friend it would help to ease her mind. There was no one else she could talk to.

Rose knew that Benedict's sister Imogene couldn't wait for their marriage. Her ladies maid, Eloise, encouraged her to obey her father and accept this marriage. Henry Randolph himself would certainly be no help in guiding her. He sensed her growing attraction for Benedict and proudly proclaimed how right his decision to commit her to this marriage had been. The whole arrangement made Rose utterly furious... and dreadfully confused.

The deep seated sense of betrayal she felt towards her father did not relent. If anything, it had grown more intense. Again her mind flitted to Benedict. He was an English lord and he was used to the expectations of his rank. Yet, somehow, in her heart, Rose doubted that even the King of England could force him into a marriage he did not want, which meant that he must truly have some feeling for her.

Perhaps Benedict simply thought she would fulfil her duty as his wife and produce him an 'heir and spare', after all, he had made it plain that he wanted to bed her, but once she gave herself to him, then what would her role be as an English Countess? Would Benedict become bored and then disappointed with her? Could she bear him to fall out of love with his simple colonial wife and perhaps eventually set her aside?

Benedict was so strong, handsome and charming. Rose thought about how safe she felt when he took her in his arms. The confident arrogance he displayed the night he escorted her onto the dance floor was unforgettable. He did not seem to care a jot about the hoity-toity biddies of the ton who had whispered about her behind her back. She had once thought her father did not care for the opinion of others either but in that she was terribly wrong; could she be wrong about Benedict too?

Once the visit was over and it became time for her to leave Merriton Hall, Rose feared she was more confused than when she first arrived. She sighed as she heard the coach crunching on the gravel forecourt as it rolled around to the front entrance of the house.

Rose quickly crossed the room to retrieve her warm winter cloak. Sliding her hands into her warm fur muff, she came to a decision. She would keep the secrets of her heart to herself and wait and see where the chase led. They were not married yet and if she should chose to go home to Virginia then she would find a way, whether her father or Benedict liked it or not. The reins of her heart would remain her own, for now at any rate.

The scratching of sharp little claws sounded at her door, as Pippin gave his sharp bark and demanded entry. Someone must have let him into Merriton from outside. Rose crossed to the door and the little white terror ran in wagging his tail and jumping about. His snout was stained brown from snorting in holes and his little doggy feet were once again covered in mud.

"Oh, Pippin, my little chickadee, whatever am I to do with you?" Rose squatted down and he happily licked her hand. "You have had the freedom of all the grounds at Merriton and now you have to be trapped in a coach for most of the day. When we arrive home in London, I shall take you out, I promise." Pippin gave a happy bark as Rose made her way down the steps of the house to join Henry and Eloise who were already seated within the carriage waiting to leave, their luggage already secured atop.

Beatrice, Imogene and Benedict all came to see them off and Benedict even managed to give Rose a quick fierce kiss upon her lips, hidden from view, behind the coach. He then helped her to climb inside and closed the door. They were off! The ride into London was beautiful with late autumnal colour over the countryside which gave a golden vista from inside the coach. At lunchtime, the Merriton coachman, Williams, stopped their journey at a good looking village hostelry where they partook of a light luncheon and gave Pippin a brisk stroll and water. It saddened Rose when the open fields gave way to streets and they reached the hustle and bustle of London once again, as dusk was falling.

The next days passed uneventfully for Rose especially since Benedict did not come to call and, at this, Rose was relieved for it gave her time to think. The weather had turned noticeably colder as winter approached already spreading its frosty cloak. Pippin had grown used to stretching his legs in the grounds of Merriton Hall but cooped up in the city, he was truly a terror. He got underfoot and went about the house whining for his playmate Holly. More than once her father threatened to banish the little dog forever. Hoping to ease Pippin's distress, Rose determined to take him for a nice long, and hopefully tiring, walk.

"Eloise…" Rose called, "would you accompany me to Hyde Park please. If I don't walk this little mischief maker, I declare he is going to drive even me mad. He's already dug up the shrubbery at the front."

Eloise appeared at the door. "Of course, Miss, just let me know when you wish to leave."

"After lunch I think."

"After lunch it is."

Rose and Eloise stepped out of the front door and onto the London streets. They carefully avoided the horses and carriages, falling into step with other people out for a stroll. The crisp autumn air reached under Rose's hat and twirled wisps of hair around her face. She giggled as Pippin's woolly white locks waved in the breeze. He fell into step beside her and the little group soon found themselves beside the large frozen pond in Kensington Gardens. Eloise removed herself to sit on a bench and rest while Rose let Pippin do some sniffing.

It was relaxing and beautiful in the Park amidst the autumn colours. Unable to swim because of the ice, the huge white swans meandered around the pond edge. They were so beautiful that Rose felt that she must be in a dream, their stark white feathers set against their black faces made them seem rather magical. Perhaps they are from another time and another place, Rose mused. She was summarily startled when Pippin decided to attack one, Rose dashed forward quickly and bent down to pick him up. The daft creature had no idea that a swan that size could kill him! When she straightened, Rose noticed two men deep in conversation under a tree nearby. Pippin began to whine and wiggle in her arms. "Shhh, Pippin, be still," she whispered. Thankfully, for once, the dog complied.

The men looked very familiar to Rose and she stepped behind a tree so as not be noticed. Squinting, she was surprised to see Benedict, Lord Mortimer, deep in conversation. His brows furrowed as he spoke with a man that Rose recognized from her early encounter with Benedict outside the dressmaker's. It was one of the friends who had accompanied him on that day.

Oh, if only she didn't have Pippin with her, she could get close enough to overhear their conversation. Rose thought that a chipmunk skittered past and before she could detain him, Pippin violently wiggled down and dashed away. Rose let out a squeal. If he got away from her in Hyde Park she would never be able to catch him again. Benedict glanced up at her sudden shout and saw that Pippin was headed his way. Rose screamed, "Catch him, Benedict!"

He made a valiant dive for the dog but Pippin managed to dash just outside of his reach. The leash dragged loose behind him, Benedict made a successful grab. "I've got you now, you wretched little mutt." He stood, brushing down his knees as his friend looked on, clearly with some amusement.

"I say, old chap, you've some quick reflexes there!" Thomas Wiggington jovially called out. Benedict grunted as Rose hurried up to relieve him of his burden, the ever naughty Pippin.

"You've saved me once again, Benedict. I was taking Pippin for some air when he spotted a chipmunk. I wasn't paying attention and he got away from me. Thank you so much."

"I am glad to be of service, m'dear, but there are no chipmunks in Britain. That was indeed, a very English red squirrel." Benedict handed her Pippin's leash and stepped back beside his friend. "Rose, this is Mr. Thomas Wiggington, Thomas, my fiancée, Miss Rose Randolph." Thomas gave a courtly bow and Rose responded by sinking into a curtsy. "Thomas was there the day your mutt bit me on the leg in front of the ladies modiste."

"Ah yes, I do recall him. You laughed at me I believe, Mr. Wiggington."

"I did laugh yes but not at you, ma'am. My apologies to you, Miss Randolph, if I have offended you but I assure you that was not my intention! It was simply a reaction to seeing old Mortimer here bitten by such a tiny dog!" Thomas Wiggington took Rose's hand and planted a kiss on the back of her gloved hand.

Benedict turned to Rose and frowned. "Where is your maid, Miss Randolph, you are not out unaccompanied I hope?" Rose cocked her head to one side, should she poke the bear in his den? Why not!

"I fancied some air and Pippin needed exercise, so I decided to stroll to the Park, now where's the harm in that, Mortimer, dearest?"

Thomas Wiggington gave a snort. "I say, Mortimer, you are marrying a complete hoyden and by gad, sir, she will ruin you!"

Benedict's eyes narrowed dangerously as he scowled at Rose. She took a quick step backwards, flummoxed, whatever was the matter with her? She knew exactly what happened whenever she poked her Benedict bear and she really did not want a repeat of the painful consequences!

Rose gave a high nervous giggle and waved a hand over in the direction of the frozen pond. "Eloise is sitting down and resting by the pond. Really, Benedict, you are most trying and so easy to tease!"

Benedict's brow cleared and he grinned. His wolfish smile made Rose feel weak at the knees. "Darling, I can always depend on you to keep me trying and one day I actually hope to succeed!" Rose blushed at his flirting innuendo.

"Come, I will escort you home to Wilton Crescent and you can offer us both afternoon tea and scones."

Thomas shook his head, "Not me, old chap, I must be away to my club I'm afraid. I am glad to have made your formal acquaintance, Miss Randolph, and my heartiest congratulations on your upcoming nuptials! Good day to you, Mortimer!"

As they strolled back together to Wilton Crescent, Eloise walking behind them, she thought that they looked the epitome of a tonnish couple. They were dressed in the highest mode of fashion, a perfectly matched pair, he tall and dark, she fair and petite.

"What colour are the chipmunks, Rose?" Benedict asked interestedly.

"Hmm, well let's see, they are brown and they have dear little stripy faces and bushy tails but not quite as bushy as your squirrels seem to have. I was amazed by the size of that swan though."

"Yes, the males are rather intimidating are they not? They are bad tempered creatures and can snap a man's wrist with a single blow from their neck. Did you know that every swan in England is owned by the King?"

Rose was intrigued. "Really? Are they all cared for and fed in the winter by the King's men?"

Benedict smiled and said, "They are all cared for by the Park Keepers, on behalf of the Crown, yes, but I wouldn't call them the King's Men exactly." They walked along in companionable silence and then Rose asked Benedict curiously,

"What were you and Squiggleworth discussing before I arrived?"

"Squiggleworth?" Benedict grinned.

"Yes, it suits him, don't you think?" Rose turned her large impish green eyes up to him and Benedict chuckled.

"Squiggleworth and I are planning to remove a certain viper from our bosoms, nothing for you to worry your pretty head about, Rose."

Rose blushed prettily.

When Benedict left the warmth of the Randolph residence later on that afternoon, he reminded Rose that she was to come to tea on Friday and to skate with him the following Saturday. The Thames had frozen over at last and the winter markets had set up business on the frozen river. It was a sight to behold and one that Benedict wanted to share with her. Rose was thrilled by his invitation and intrigued at the idea of a market on the ice-bound river. Her trust in Benedict was growing but it was still only held by a gossamer thread.

Chapter Eleven

Friday saw the first significant snows of winter. It was November now and the mellow days of autumn had given way to chill and frosts of winter. Benedict continued to be frustrated in his courting efforts. Mayhap, today, Rose would be in a more amenable mood. He poured himself a sherry and pondered over the last couple of months. Rose was sweet and utterly without guile, every thought that crossed her head was written across her face as plain as day. This was a quality he absolutely adored in her, the practiced artifice of the women of the ton were just the opposite.

Rose was like the first fresh breeze of springtime. She responded to his kisses with passion and Benedict knew from experience there was fire under that sweetly veiled façade. The fact that she always seemed to be pulling away from him bothered him though. She would respond to his kisses and even give as good as she got, but the moment the kiss was over, a wall would spring up as if something unresolved remained between them. Rose was intriguing and frankly, she was the first woman who had ever resisted his advances. This was a new experience for Lord Mortimer. Rose Randolph and her resistances made him desire her all the more.

Benedict's mother entered their London drawing room. She huffed out her frustration, "My dear son, your fiancée should be arriving at any moment. Please speak with her about the problem I am having with the modiste Madame Emmerson? She wrote to me just this week and the situation simply has to be resolved for we are running out of time here. Madame Emmerson told me that Rose doesn't care for a trousseau. Good heavens, I've never met such a girl before! I am sure that I am glad the girl is not impressed by the trappings of wealth alone, but she must be fitted with dresses worthy of her upcoming station in life and the social demands that will be placed upon her as your Countess."

Benedict gave a sigh. "I don't suppose the King realized what he was engaging me in when he decided to wed me to a colonial, Mother. Can you imagine the amount of money Margaret would have run through had the King been funding a marriage with her as the bride?"

Beatrice rolled her eyes and quickly crossed from the room. "Enough said, dear, I will never question the lovely Rose again. However, Margaret would have come to you with her trousseau completely intact."

Benedict scratched his chin, his little miss was indeed an enigma and one he was determined to solve. He hoped this afternoon would go well. When Rose arrived at the Mortimer's London house in Brunswick Gardens, she immediately launched into an appeal. She was nearly in tears. It seemed her father had taken her on a carriage ride past Westminster Abbey.

"Benedict, please, I simply can't be married in such an enormous place. It is so huge. I would die if I had to walk down an aisle in front of all those hundreds of people! I beg you, cannot we be married in a simple country church, please?"

Benedict tried to be patient. "Come sit by me, my dear." He patted a spot on the seat beside him and Rose sat down. "I am a peer of the realm, Rose, and you are going to have the title of Lady Mortimer. Being married at Westminster is simply the way things are done, King and court will expect this." The trembling of Rose's bottom lip moved him and he sighed again. "Very well then, since you feel that strongly about it, I will ask permission for the wedding to be held in the family chapel at Merriton House. What Mother will do about the enormous guest list though, I have no idea!" Rose crawled upon his lap and kissed his cheek. Benedict pulled a sour face.

"Is that all I get for having to make a request of the Lord Chancellor himself?" Rose innocently wriggled her bottom and hesitantly kissed Benedict on the lips. He gritted his teeth against her movement as she drew back and gazed at him with a wide eyed stare. He could barely hear her whispered thanks.

"Thank you, Benedict. I shall never forget that you did this for me." He couldn't stand it. She was so earnest he felt sure that she was going to break his heart.

"Good heavens, madam, you would test the very saints themselves." Benedict very gently leaned in for another kiss. He didn't want to scare her off his lap. Her mouth was so sweet, it was better than the best French champagne he had ever tasted. His tongue moved lazily in and Rose leaned against him and sighed into his mouth. As soon as the kiss was done, Rose shoved him away and crossed to look out the window. Benedict frowned. He was determined to find out the cause of her continued resistance to him.

"Rose, have you come to accept our upcoming nuptials?"

Rose immediately changed the subject. "Benedict, Madam Emmerson, the dressmaker, insists I spend inordinate amounts of money on a trousseau. It is completely ridiculous. Father had beautiful dresses made for me when we first arrived and you have provided wonderful winter clothing for me. Enough is enough. I will concede to a dress for the wedding but beyond that I do not wish to waste precious coin."

"Do not try and change the subject, Rose." Benedict shook his head and crossed to stand behind her. He put his hands on her shoulders and rested his forehead against the back of her head. "I have already heard of Madam Emmerson's complaints. There cannot possibly be a lady to be found in this world who is as reticent as you are to spend coin." He turned her in his arms, "Rose, you will do as I order you and I command you to submit to Madam Emmerson. Certain things are expected from you as my Countess." He dropped his hands. "I will concede the venue, but if I find out that you are continuing to act the pauper, I shall turn you over my knee again and spank your lovely bottom."

"Act the pauper!" Rose spluttered and pulled away, stamping her foot. Benedict leaned back and crossed his arms.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What the deuce? Did you just do what I think you did?" Rose took a step backwards. Benedict's nostrils flared and he leant forward. Rose retreated in kind and stepped behind the settee where she thought he couldn't reach her. She raised her chin and looked him in the eye. Stamp went her little booted foot once again. Benedict's face darkened as he jumped up and took off towards her at a run. Rose turned and rounded the harpsichord. Benedict was fast but he was big, and inside a house overstuffed with furniture, he was not as nimble as she. As Rose flew past a table set for tea, she picked up a buttered scone and let it fly. Benedict saw it coming and ducked… why the cheeky little minx!

Just as she was about to throw open the double doors to escape him, Benedict swooped down upon her and tossed her over his shoulder. Rose let out a scream that raised the roof. Beatrice and Roberts both came running into the room. The parlour maid flew in from the other side of the room and Imogene's light footsteps could be heard rapidly approaching from up above.

Benedict turned, with Rose still over his shoulder, and roared, "Everyone out of the room now!"

The crowd that had hurried to her rescue, quickly disbursed. Beatrice was overheard by Benedict to say, as she intercepted Imogene. "Everything is perfectly fine, dear. Leave your brother alone with his fiancée for now."

Benedict returned to the settee and dropped Rose over his rock hard thigh. She continued her efforts at escape and even attempted to pinch him on the calf. Benedict tossed her skirts over her head and brought his hand down to bear on her behind.

"Don't you dare..." Rose cried.

Benedict reached down and grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back with one hand. "Oh I dare and just so that we are clear, Rose, you are being spanked for stamping your foot in defiance and for throwing a scone at me. I will not tolerate such rude behaviour from you. Do you understand, young lady?"

"Ah!" shouted Rose, "I insist that you let me go at once!"

Whack! A blistering smack fell across her nether parts. "Ouch… stop it, Benedict!" His large palm fell again.

"You will desist and submit to your punishment." Benedict let three more burning smacks fall upon her rounded behind. Rose began to slump over his knee. Her effort to get away did not hold much enthusiasm now, three more stinging smacks fell before Rose began to cry. Benedict stopped his chastisement.

Tossing her skirts back down, Benedict settled Rose into his lap and held her close. He smoothed her hair and hushed her weeping. "I don't want to have to do that again, my darling, but you simply must learn to obey me. I cannot have you stamping your foot and throwing scones whenever you disagree with me, 'tis not seemly." He tilted her chin so he could look into her tear drenched eyes. "Do you understand, my darling?" Rose nodded slowly but the look of utter wretchedness did not leave her face, prompting Benedict to speak solicitously. "Please tell me what is wrong, my love. What really has you so upset this day?"

Rose laid her head on Benedict's shoulder and began to sob. He patted her back and kissed the top of her head. This wasn't about that little spanking she had received; something else was troubling her deeply and Benedict was determined to get to the reason why.

"Rose, you and I are to marry in less than a month. You may trust me. I know that there is something wrong. Perhaps it is the marriage itself or something that I have done. Whatever it is, we will face it together. You must share your thoughts with me otherwise I can do nothing to help."

Rose cried even louder and buried her face turned into his jacket. She grasped his lapels and held them in a death like grip. A muffled voice answered, "I'm fine, I am perfectly fi-ne." Benedict pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her pert nose.

"You are not perfectly fine, my dear and I would know the cause of your distress."

"Thank you for the kerchief," Rose hiccupped as she spoke. "I am fine, Benedict. It's all just… a little overwhelming for me. You are a wealthy man, why, you're practically the King. I'm a simple country mouse." Rose stood from his lap and ran her fingers over the expensive side chair. "In the Colonies, everything is precious because most things must come to us upon a ship all the way across the sea. I'm not used to such niceties as you have here, Benedict. I don't think I'll ever get used to the ease and richness of... well everything!" She crossed to a second side chair and ran her hand across the back. "I am so certain I will never fit in here, Benedict, never." She looked up at him with such complete sorrow. "I am afraid that you will have to get used to that." A tear made its way down her cheek and Rose angrily brushed it away. "I'd like to go back to my house, now if you please. I'm very sorry for stamping my foot and throwing a scone at you, it was most unladylike I know… in fact, I admit that I deserved to be spanked."

Benedict stood and tutted kindly, taking Rose into his arms. He crushed her to his chest and turned her face up to his. "Rose Randolph, please don't worry about fitting in here. You and England will adjust and one day you will wake up and find that you belong. There is nothing wrong with belonging in two different camps, my dear. Give it time, Rose, give it time, my darling." His lips came down upon hers and he attempted to kiss away the sadness from her eyes. Rose allowed his kiss but she not respond with her usual fervour. When he pulled away, she gave her betrothed an abashed smile.

"Benedict, please could I return to my house now?"

Benedict left the room and called from the hallway up the staircase, "Imogene, come fetch your cloak and muff, if you wish to accompany Rose and I back to her house. We are leaving right now if you want to join us!" A door slammed upstairs and then the slap of Imogene's silk slippers could be heard as she descended the staircase into the hall.

Benedict took Rose's cloak from Roberts and carefully wrapped her up warmly in it. He thought that she looked like a lost little girl standing in the huge lobby. If the vastness of Benedict's London house threatened to swallow her up, how small must she feel at Merriton Hall. For the first time, Benedict began to get a sense of what Rose must feel like. He looked around at the home he had known all his life. It never crossed his mind to look at it from the perspective of another person not accustomed to power and luxury. He wrapped his arm around Rose and gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

"Do not fret, my dearest. You are with me and that is all that is important. Everything will fall into place. Believe me when I tell you, everything will turn out all right."

Chapter Twelve

Rose sat in her favourite thinking place, the window seat in her bed chamber. Her forehead rested on the icy glass, as she watched the dizzying swirl of snowflakes falling outside.

Rose thrilled at Benedict's touch but she was confused. She actually felt better after Benedict had spanked her. Oh, she fought him, yes, but secretly found his masculine strength and control of her physically exciting and extremely arousing.

Her father had never spanked her, not even as a child. Oh, he'd threaten her with a spanking occasionally, but had never followed through with any corporal discipline. Although Rose had been pampered and had wanted for nothing, her father had never shown any real interest in his daughter. To him she was simply an ornament, a pretty little thing to be indulged and then dismissed. Rose had been a lonely little girl after her mother had died. Her friends were her pets and Pippin the best of her companions to date. She adored her little dog; he was confidant, playmate and family.

Benedict not only wanted to spend his precious masculine time with her, he encouraged her to join him and share in many of his activities. Being included was mentally rewarding to the emotionally neglected Rose. Her fiancée also took the trouble to correct her, comforting her within the circle of his strong arms afterwards. Rose felt cherished in a way that she had never experienced before. Heady and dangerous stuff indeed!

Rose dressed warmly for the visit to the River Thames. She donned a white ermine lined blue velvet cloak and matching muff, worn over a blue riding habit and white laced boots. Benedict had told her he would bring her some skates to wear on the frozen river. She was nervous since she had never skated before.

He arrived in his coach an hour after breakfast and collected Rose, accompanied by Eloise, who was somewhat disgruntled to be going out into the arctic chill. She would have much preferred the warmth of the kitchens on a day such as this. Benedict reached under his seat and pulled out two wrapped heated bricks which he placed onto the women's laps. He then draped tartan rugs over their knees to keep them snug and warm.

Rose was excited and gazed with interest at the sights of London from her place by the carriage window whilst Benedict looked on indulgently. Finally, the carriage halted by the river's edge and the coachman dropped the step and helped Rose down. Her eyes lit up at the colourful scene before her. Vendors had set up booths all along the snow covered banks of the river. Aromas mingled in the air tantalizing the senses. Succulent roasted meats now turning on spits offered a savory bite while crisp apples dipped in golden, bubbly hot toffee promised a sweet, decadent treat. Chestnuts being roasted in hot iron braziers made mouths water and smiles appear with the fond memories of past winter outings.

Folk stood about the chestnut braziers warming their chilled hands and children ran helter-skelter amongst the adults, throwing snowballs and laughing happily. Out on the frozen river, skaters circled with their colourful scarves flying over their shoulders. To the right of the skaters a large winter market flourished and all manner of goods were for sale in these temporary stalls. It was a merry sight and Rose's heart lifted with joy. She was going to have a lovely day… she just knew it!

Benedict lifted Rose up from behind without warning. She gave a surprised squeal as he sat her down on the step of the coach and lifted her foot to divest her of her boot. Rose placed her hand on his broad shoulder, to steady herself as he unlaced each boot and replaced it with white skating boots. He swiftly laced each one and set her back onto her feet holding onto her just in case she tipped sideways in her newly acquired skates.

"How on earth did you guess my shoe size?" she asked, pleased with the fit.

"Ah, well I asked Eloise to steal a slipper for me and I had them made especially for you. Do you like them, are they comfortable?"

Rose was touched by the obvious care he'd take on her behalf. "They are so soft and yes, they are very comfortable. Thank you, Benedict."

Benedict was pleased. "I am glad you like them. They are made from the softest calves' leather; only the best for my Rose!"

Rose giggled. "Benedict, I must warn you. I've never skated before. Virginia is too warm for the streams to freeze hard enough to be safe."

"Never fear, my dear, I was skating almost before I could walk so I will be able to support you."

They left Eloise watching them from the coach as they made their way out onto the ice. It was obvious that she felt the cold since she was hugging both hot bricks as well as wrapped herself up in the tartan travel rugs to keep herself warm. Rose knew that if her companion wasn't concerned about the possibility of smothering, she'd have not even the tip of her nose peeking from her blankets.

Benedict was not exaggerating about supporting Rose. He practically carried her out on the ice as his strong legs made stroke after stroke. He circled around and ignored the other skaters over to their left. Rose was under the illusion that she had instantly been made able to skate.

"Oh, Benedict, I don't know what I was so worried about. This is so easy." He threw back his head and laughed. "Benedict, let me go please I want to try and skate by myself. Why, just look at all those girls skating, they are far younger than me!"

"Rose, those skaters have grown up skating upon the Thames, so be warned, it is not quite as easy as it looks."

"My, but you're so bossy. Let me go, I say!" She would have stamped her foot but couldn't quite manage it with skates on her feet.

Benedict leaned down and growled in her ear, "Just remember, my darling, you asked for this." He eased his hands off her and gave Rose a gentle push. At first Rose grinned, thinking phish! There's nothing to this! She even kept her hands tucked confidently into her muff.

Then the momentum of his push began to wane and Rose slowed down. Now what was she supposed to do? She heard Benedict's chuckle not far behind her. Ooo, laugh would he, sometimes he made her so mad! She would jolly well show him.

Unbeknownst to Rose, a long line of skaters was approaching from behind. A group of about ten young men and women were all holding hands and the laughing woman on the end was moving very fast around in a circle. They were taking turns playing the game and were bearing down upon Rose.

Rose suddenly began to feel unsteady and what had been easy now seemed impossible. Her ankles wiggled and waggled and her muff dropped unnoticed to the ice as her hands flailed about trying to regain her balance.

In a move born of desperation, Rose pushed off with one foot but it signalled disaster. She flipped around like a crazed dancer, her arms thrashing about and her ankles flopping in and out. Benedict called out to her but she was too intent on trying to stay upright to pay him any attention.

At that moment, the line of skaters came up behind her. Rose wobbled violently, losing her attempt at maintaining an upright position and fell. The result was instant chaos as she collided with the line of skaters. Three of them went flying as she knocked them off their feet. The domino effect was horrifyingly breath taking. Almost as if in slow motion, one by one the skaters toppled into each other until all were lying sprawled on the ice. Arms and legs were tangled in the heap. Stray skaters weren't exempt from the disaster as their speed and proximity allowed them no time to escape. It was a monumental scene of mayhem and at the bottom of the heaving, struggling pile lay one very dismayed, Rose Randolph.

"Orff, what happened?"

"Get your elbow out my ribs."

"You're crushing me."

"It was that girl… t' wasn't my fault."

Benedict skated around the resulting mêlée trying to pull Rose free from the wreckage. He finally spotted one of her skating boots, reached down and hauled her out from the pile of other skaters. As her skirt rode up her legs, Rose gave an embarrassed screech. She petulantly pushed it back down as Benedict dragged her away from the stack of now furious skaters.

"I tried to warn you…"

"Darn it, just you shut up, Benedict Lord, whatever your name is. I say that you should have rescued me before disaster struck!" Benedict was laughing so hard he couldn't even hear what Rose was saying. Still chuckling, he pulled her over to the bank of the river so that she could collect herself.

"You should have seen yourself, Rose. You looked like an absolute goose with your arms flapping about as if trying to fly. I've never seen such a spectacular fall and ending up underneath so many! I was afraid you'd be rather flattened by all those others as they tumbled on top of you." Benedict was now bent over as he was laughing so much and tears of merriment ran unchecked down his cold and ruddy cheeks.

Rose sat on the cold snow bank and watched him as he laughed. A small giggle escaped her and then another, until finally she joined in the hilarity. She reached into the snow and made a nice fat snowball. With a sly smile, she lifted her weapon of choice and smashed it over his face. Her giggles increased as he sputtered to clear the snow from his mouth and then wiped the rest off his face, his laughter continuing.

"Forgive me for calling you a silly goose, madam. It is just that I shall never forget this day. This has got to be the most fun I've ever had out on the ice."

Rose beamed up at him as he reached down to help her stand again. "You better not let go of me next time around, you handsome swine."

"Don't worry, my dear, I shall hold onto you for dear life, if only for the safety of the other skaters!" Rose gave him a playful punch. "Come I'll guide you over to the market stalls. You may choose anything you wish, my darling."

Benedict and Rose went over to the winter market and Benedict bought them both a bag of hot chestnuts to share. The vendor placed butter on the heated nuts and then shook salt on them. Benedict peeled them, popping the hot earthy treats into Rose's open mouth. They finished the welcome snack and wandered about the varied and colourful market stalls.

Rose moved excitedly from vendor to vendor; there was just so much to see, so many different goods for sale. Finally, Rose spotted a stall laden with painted wooden headed dolls. They were soft bodied and stuffed with rags but dressed in pretty clothes. Each doll had a different painted face and hair colour. As she perused the myriad of choice available, Rose noticed a ragged child huddled near the edge of the stall. She looked to be half-starved but her eyes were wide as she gazed at the coveted toys. The tiny girl seemed to be focused on a yellow haired doll with a smiling mouth and dressed in a frothy pink dress.

Rose picked up the doll and asked how much. "Penny," the unsmiling stall holder told her.

Passing over a penny, Rose hunkered down beside the child, holding out the doll to her. "For you, my little chickadee."

The small girl's eyes grew round as she touched the doll's smiling lips with a tiny finger. "Me bruvver will take it an' sell it, missus," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Where is your mother, my dear?" Rose asked with concern.

"Dead, an' me farvver too... Well, he says as he's me bruvver but he has a lot of little kids what calls 'im bruvver, so I dunno if he really is me bruvver." Rose glanced up at Benedict with a stricken look on her face and Benedict sighed. He knew exactly what was going to come next. Perhaps he had been foolhardy when he said that Rose could have anything she wanted from the market! He also knew that should he take in every urchin that roamed the London streets, he would quickly become as poor and as useless to them as they were to one another now. Rose's next words confirmed his very thought and he scowled darkly at her as she made her request.

"Oh Benedict, we cannot possibly just leave the poor child here to starve… or even worse…"

"Rose, there are thousands of children like this child and you cannot care for them all. Give her the doll and I will give her a shilling, it is more than any of them hope for in a month of Sunday's!"

Not the least bit satisfied with his response as he countermanded her, Rose made her own countermove. Giving him a look to convey her concern for the poor child, she said, "I will take her into my household then and Eloise can train her up as a ladies maid. That way she will always have gainful employment."

Benedict did something he had never done before meeting Rose, he rolled his eyes. He knew that he was beaten. 'Choose your battles', his father used to mutter after cross words with Lady Beatrice, Benedict's mother.

"Very well," he sighed, "I see that you must, we will take her over to the coach and she can wait with Eloise while we continue to look around."

"Thank you, Benedict!" Rose's green eyes, shined up at him adoringly. "Do you think I might buy her some warm clothing? Look, there is a children's clothing stall just over that way!" Rose pointed her finger. Benedict sighed deeply, today was not going according to plan, no, not at all. With another eye roll, he wrapped his arm about her waist and escorted Rose and the child over to the stall.

Benedict sat in the coach on the return journey with a fixed look upon his face. Rose had dragged him from one stall to another, and bought item after item for the little guttersnipe. The child had quickly become distressed and didn't understand what was happening. A large crowd had eventually gathered.

The girl's so called 'brother' had arrived with two ruffians in tow and after that, things had turned sour, very sour indeed. None of it was made any better by Rose shrieking at the child's 'brother' and hitting one of the thugs hard upon the head with the wooden headed doll. Benedict had finally smoothed things over by shelling out an inordinate amount of money, which could have bought the entire market place had he so desired.

Rose looked up and thought she saw Benedict grind his teeth together. She looked down at the floor of the carriage and recalled the words she had shrieked at the ruffians. What had she called them? Ah yes... 'stinking pieces of gallow bait'.

Rose looked over to where Benedict sat with a strange rather strangled look upon his usually calm and handsome face. He kept making the oddest noises too, it was as if he wanted to speak but his lips were glued together.

Her gaze then roamed to her tiny protégé and she smiled. Nancy, for that was the child's given name, was leaning against Eloise, her thumb plugged into her mouth, eyes closed and she was sound asleep. Rose's heart swelled with love. She would take care of the tiny mite and she would suffer no more. Indeed, Nancy would thrive under her own tender ministrations. Rose realized that she had had a truly wonderful day today and bestowed Benedict with a beatific smile. Strangely Benedict did not smile back.

Chapter Thirteen

Beatrice had the megrim. Benedict would not be moved from this utterly ridiculous idea that he and Rose should be married in the tiny chapel at Merriton. Just how were they to accommodate four hundred plus guests? Whoever they uninvited would see their dismissal from the invitation list, as 'The Cut', the greatest insult imaginable to a member of the elite aristocratic English 'le bon ton'.

Add to that, the reluctance everyone would have at leaving London and venturing across country in the middle of winter. Merriton Hall would be freezing cold at this time of the year; the house having been closed up for the winter after the family left for London in the autumn. Beatrice decided enough was enough and took to her bed ordering that tea to be sent to her chambers.

Benedict wanted to take Rose out for the evening on Saturday. He needed to sweeten her up so that she was able to accept the bad news. The Lord Chancellor, no doubt instructed by the King himself, had refused his request to hold their wedding at Merriton. Benedict knew it would be a weight off his mother's mind when she heard the news, but he felt it only fair that Rose should hear about this turn of events before anyone else. He dreaded her reaction on hearing that she would have to walk down the aisle at Westminster Abbey in front of the Royal family and most of the English aristocracy. Benedict groaned; why was this wedding proving so difficult? He knew the answer of course, Rose. She was unused to the pomp and ceremony that all the English ton were bought up with, naturally accepting the rigid protocol that surrounded the peer system in England. He would just have to be patient with her.

Benedict sent a footman to Wilton Crescent to deliver a note informing Rose and her father that he would collect them both on Saturday night to take them to The Haymarket Theatre to see the current opera. The Waterman was not a production that Benedict would have chosen by choice but it was the only one in London being performed at the present time.

Rose was busy settling Nancy into her new home under Eloise's watchful eye. Eloise had made it plain that she thought no good would come of giving the girl ideas above her station. Rose had summarily dismissed Eloise's concerns and had ensconced the child in a guest bedroom along the corridor from her own chambers. Nancy appeared bewildered by her sudden change in circumstance, and as a consequence, was frequently naughty.

Rose indulged her but Eloise stood no nonsense from the child. She was firm, consistent and fair with Nancy, and as a result, Nancy trusted Eloise and obeyed her instructions. Rose was a little put out that her new protégé preferred the company of her ladies maid to her own and she tried to bribe the child with treats of every description. Finally, the decision was taken from her by her father.

Henry had been out all morning only to return to the room he had taken to use as his study to find an unholy mess everywhere. Nancy had found the quill and inkwell on top of the desk, and upon opening up the heavy drawers within the desk, she had discovered paper—rather a lot of paper. Unfortunately, these papers were the final draft for a speech on the present unsettled situation out in the colonies. Henry had been invited to give a talk to a select body of merchants, bankers, and other men of business as well as politicians, led by none other than Lord North himself.

When he had walked into his study and found the room covered in his papers, smeared liberally with ink, Henry had bellowed until the whole of the household had come running—all except that is, Nancy, who on hearing the commotion, had quickly hidden under her bed.

The child had been severely scolded by Eloise. Henry Randolph had decreed that Nancy be moved into the servant's quarters, in a room adjoining Eloise's. No amount of pouting or flouncing on Rose's part had made any difference to her father—he was, on this occasion, quite adamant.

Therefore, when the footman arrived with Benedict's note, Rose decided that she would go to the opera alone and without her father. She declined the invitation on his behalf without telling him anything about it.

When Benedict arrived on Saturday evening, he was surprised to find Rose waiting for him alone. "Where is your ladies maid, Rose?"

"She has the ague and cannot accompany me tonight but I felt certain that since we are an engaged couple, a visit to the opera together should be acceptable." Benedict frowned.

"Actually no, it is not acceptable, not at all. You cannot be alone in a carriage with me, Rose, 'tis not seemly!"

"Oh pooh, do not be so stuffy, Benedict; after all we went riding alone together."

"That was entirely different and you know it, young lady. We were at Merriton and on separate horses…" Benedict's voice trailed off as he remembered lifting Rose onto his horse and holding her in his arms. There was a crow of laughter and Benedict looked thunderously at his intended.

"You are remembering holding me on Devil are you not?" she asked him delightedly. Benedict glowered at her but nodded an affirmative.

"Very well, have it your way, Rose. It is your reputation that is at stake and I suppose that any tittle-tattle will die away once we are wedded. Come along now or we shall be late."

The Royal Haymarket theatre was packed but not because of the quality or critical acclaim of the opera being performed. The opera happened to be the place to be seen. Benedict took a footman inside the box with them to fetch and carry any drinks that they might require during the break. He produced a beautiful, pink silk covered box of sweetmeats for Rose, tied up with a pale blue ribbon. Rose opened them immediately and chose a confection of almonds.

She was brimming with excitement to be at the London opera and eagerly chatted to Benedict as she asked him questions about the orchestra and all the different instruments that were being tuned. The conductor arrived and bowed so low to his audience that his powdered wig nearly fell off. Rose giggled as a cloud of powder dust floated into the air. Benedict produced his mother of pearl opera glasses and handed them to Rose so that she would enjoy a better view of this evening's entertainment.

The singing was quite wonderful to listen to at first, but it was not one of the most captivating of operas. After an interminably boring hour of rather dull singing, Rose began to shift about in her seat. Benedict grimly watched her as she wriggled. She wasn't watching the opera at all now. She was using her opera glasses to study the other patrons seated in other boxes. The music soared and Benedict resisted the urge to cover his ears as the soprano on stage rose to a particularly high pitch. His attention was again drawn to Rose when he heard a sharp intake of breath. She jumped and nearly dropped the glasses she held to her eyes.

"Rose, are you indisposed?" Benedict asked in concern.

"Yes… um, no! I dropped the opera glasses, pray do not concern yourself. I shall sit further back in the box." Hunched over, she moved from the seat next to him and into the shadows of the box. She slunk to a seat in the back. Benedict turned suddenly and plucked the glasses from Rose's hand. He put them to his eyes and trained them in the direction that Rose had been looking.

Henry Randolph gazed back at him through his own opera glasses. That wasn't the worst of it; Mr. Randolph was sitting next to Lady Amelia and her daughter, Lady Margaret. Benedict swivelled about to look at Rose accusingly. He had known that something was up when he witnessed her strange behaviour. He handed the glasses back to Rose.

"With a sigh may cry 'poor T-om'"

"With a si-gh may cr-y 'po-or T-om'"

The final verse of the first half was sung and the crowd clapped as the curtain fell, indicating the interval. Benedict turned to the footman standing discretely at the back of the box. "Hopkins, fetch up the champagne for us now, if you please."

"My Lord," Hopkins bowed and left the box soundlessly. Benedict immediately swung around to face Rose; it wouldn't do for any of their conversation to leave this box.

"So your father was indisposed was he?" Benedict asked mildly as he picked at an invisible piece of lint on his crossed thigh.

"Um, er, we-ll he did seem out of sorts today, so y-es, I suppose one could actually say that he was indisposed."

"Really…"

"Yes."

"I see. Rose, you are aware that lying to me is one of the more punishable offences. I do so hate to be lied to."

"Oh, so do I, Benedict, so do I, such totally unacceptable behaviour, lying!"

"Rose..."

"Yes, Benedict?"

"You have until the count of five to avoid a trip over my knee."

"Ooo, but I really did believe that father was indisposed today. He was so very horrible to Nancy today and I thought he would be much too upset to attend the opera!"

Benedict sighed. "Oh, please, not Nancy again,"

"Whatever do you mean, not Nancy again?"

"Rose, this has to stop. Nancy was nothing but a guttersnipe before your rescue; she has now been raised up to an enormous social height, being placed in training with a senior servant such as a ladies maid no less. She is not your family and she will suffer greatly if you make her believe such a thing. Do you understand what I am trying to explain to you?"

Rose frowned. "Y-es, I hear you. In fact, Eloise explained much the same thing to me today. You need not concern yourself any further for Nancy is sleeping in the servant quarters from now on."

Benedict's eye brow shot up. "What? Pray tell where was she sleeping before this?"

Rose flushed pink. "Um, in a bedroom next to mine but she has been moved, it was only a temporary measure."

Benedict gave a patient sigh. Rose meantime, had picked up her opera glasses and had the lenses trained once again upon the box directly opposite theirs. "What is father doing here with those two witches?"

"That is quite enough spying for now Rose. You may ask your father later on why he was with the Beauchamp ladies tonight but my guess would be that the two witches cajoled your father into joining them simply to gain credence within society. Those two are most unpopular since I asked them to leave Merriton. Let us put this subject aside for now though, Rose. There is a small but serious matter that I need to discuss with you…"

"Ooo, they are all standing up and leaving the box!" Rose squinted and reached for the glasses again. Snatching them from Benedict's hand, she placed them to her eyes.

"Rose!"

"Where are they going? Oh, do you think they are coming over here! Oh no! Quickly let us leave immediately, Benedict. I am not enjoying this opera… so please can we just leave now?" Rose hopped to her feet in agitation.

Benedict stood to his feet to thwart her efforts to leave. "Sit down and behave at once! Look, your father is down below us, he appears to be greeting a man and his wife down in the stalls." Rose moved to stand beside Benedict and peeked over the rail.

"Why, it is Captain Littleton and that must be his wife, oh bodkins, she's so fat! Benedict, he was the Captain of our ship The Gwendolyn, the one that we travelled over to England on, you know."

Hopkins returned, carrying a silver tray on which were two champagne glasses, brimming with sparkling liquid. He bent at the waist, with one hand behind his back and bowed low, offering the tray to Rose, who reached out and took one of the crystal flutes. She took a quick sip before she swivelled back to peer over the edge of the balcony once more. Lady Margaret and Lady Amelia were now standing below with her father and both looking most awkward to be seen down within the stalls with the hoi polloi. Margaret moved until she was directly below their box.

There was a high pitched shriek from the stalls below. Benedict stuck his head over the balustrade and peered beneath their balcony. Three furious faces glared upwards and met his gaze.

Henry Randolph, Lady Amelia Beauchamp and the most furious of them all, Lady Margaret, whose décolletage appeared to be soaking wet, met his eyes. Benedict drew back, casting an astonished look at Rose.

Rose's eyes rounded with feigned innocence. "Whoops, I spilled a drop or two, never mind, no harm done!"

Benedict stood up. "We are leaving now. Hopkins will follow with our belongings." He grasped Rose's upper arm none too gently. "Come along, my dear!"

He almost dragged her from the box and down the deserted corridor. They descended the sweeping stairs, went out through the foyer and arrived at the waiting coach. Williams, the coachman, was catching up on some sleep but was soon startled awake by his master's voice. He leapt down at once to open the door of the carriage and help Rose inside. She was quickly followed by Benedict.

Rose beamed nervously at the stony faced Lord Mortimer. "Well, at least we can talk privately now. What was it you were going to tell me, sir? Something important I think you said?"

Benedict swallowed, he was absolutely livid with Rose. There was no doubt at all in his mind that she had deliberately tipped her champagne right down the front of Lady Margaret's dress tonight.

Irritably, he banged on the roof of the coach with his cane. "Home please, Williams, but take a roundabout route."

All in all, it had been a most unsatisfactory evening. Nevertheless, Rose was his responsibility and she had behaved appallingly tonight.

"I wish to discuss your behaviour this evening, Rose. You have behaved like a rude little hellion tonight, and I cannot in all conscience, let such behaviour pass by without correcting you." Benedict patted his lap meaningfully.

Rose gaped at him. "Now, Benedict dear, do not be hasty over my little bit of funning!"

"Fun! Rose, everyone was watching you tonight and assessing your potential as my Countess. However low Lady Amelia and Margaret stoop, it behoves you, as my affianced, to rise above such petty behaviour. You have earned correction and you are going across my knee right now, so come here."

Rose shuffled along the seat squeezing herself as far into the corner as she could but Benedict's long arm snaked out and he snagged her wrist with ease. Rose gave a squeak as she slid all too easily along the leather seat. She found herself dumped across her intended's hard and unforgiving lap.

Sweeping up her cloak and garments, Benedict gulped when he realised that he had bared Rose completely. Her bottom and legs laid bare, glowing creamily in the dimness of the candle light from the carriage lantern. Without thought, his hand cupped an orb of her nether cheeks caressing the silken skin. His pego reacted like a rapier, upright, swift and true, causing a discomforting tightening of his breeches.

Benedict groaned, her womanly cleft beckoned him and he found his fingers sliding gently downward, unable to resist that tempting, shadowed divide. A mewl from beneath the pile of petticoats and clothing, bought him to his senses and angry with himself for losing sight, even for a moment, of the fact that he was a gentleman and no cad, Benedict bought his hand down on Rose's soft behind harder than perhaps he first intended.

She shrieked and bucked. "I am bare, Benedict, I am bare. Cover me, cover me up!"

Benedict chose to ignore Rose's outburst. She deserved this lesson and he determined that she should feel it to its fullest advantage. His hand continued to rise and fall with precision and accuracy. He could see quite clearly in the flickering gleam that his individual hand prints were joining up with one another, turning Rose's rear crimson, in fact, her bottom positively glowed. She cried and squirmed most delightfully against his swollen rod. He continued to spank her until they turned into Wilton Crescent, whereupon he allowed her upright.

Rose gazed tearfully at Benedict as he righted her hair and wiped her wet face with his silk kerchief.

"Why did you not let me cover myself? That was indecent and so humiliating for me!"

Benedict grinned, infuriating her further. "I thought you deserved to be spanked on the bare, a little humility seemed in order after your attitude and conduct tonight. Perhaps you will begin to realise that your actions have consequences and think before you behave like a common hoyden in future. Now dry your tears, Rose, and I will see you on the morrow, when I do hope your demeanour will have improved."

Before she knew what he was about Benedict swept her into his arms, clasped her to him and kissed her soundly. Rose could not understand her physical reaction to this, her body craved more from him and she melded into his embrace. Somehow her sore bottom only added spice to the encounter, which only served to confuse her further.

Chapter Fourteen

"….but why, I don't understand this at all! Merriton is simply enormous; surely there is plenty of room for everyone!"

They were sitting together in the morning parlour of Benedict's London house.

"Rose, I have explained this to you over and over again, so I will do so once more and then this conversation is finished, is that understood?" Benedict took a deep controlling breath; it would do no good for him to lose his temper with Rose about this. After all, he must remain patient and understanding of his Rose. However, right at this moment, he would dearly love to turn his Rose over his knee and smack her saucy arse!

Rose harrumphed crossly. She appeared completely unaware just how close she was to getting her bottom warmed, especially after her mischief at the opera the previous evening.

"Due to the political nature of our wedding, I have no other recourse left to me as a peer of the realm. If the King himself insists that we are married, as is usual for an Earl and a cousin of the King, than it must be within Westminster Abbey and I must comply. I know this is not what you wanted, but that is how it has to be. Ours is a political union, Rose, and must, therefore, be seen as such by society. It will not be onerous for you in any way.

"Your father will guide you down the aisle to where I will await you. We shall then be married by the Archbishop of Canterbury after which we shall leave together and travel by carriage to the Queen's House, Buckingham House, which is almost visible from here in Wilton Crescent."

"Ooo, I have a brilliant idea, Benedict! Why don't we just elope and…"

"The deuce we will! Be quiet, Rose, and do not presume to interrupt me again! Now where was I? Ah, yes… there will then be a champagne reception given by the King and Queen at the Queen's own house, Buckingham House, which will last possibly about two hours. During that time, we will be greeted by well-wishers. Footman with champagne and silver platters full of assorted dainties and sweetmeats will serve our guests.

"You shall change into a leaving outfit and we will depart the throng, leaving them to dine with the King and Queen. We shall return to our own apartment in our London house, Brunswick Gardens. There will be an intimate supper laid out ready for us and only a skeleton staff for at least a week, so that we shall have time to enjoy our newly wedded state. My mother and Imogene will be staying with my mother's cousin, Elizabeth."

"Please, please, Benedict, let us elope, it would be so romantic!"

"Rose, I cannot, we cannot. It would not be romantic at all and most likely we would be cut from society for the rest of our lives!"

"Well, good! Who cares! We can live happily at Merriton, just the two of us!"

"What then of Imogene? How will she find a husband and what of our own children, condemned by society? How will they meet appropriate suitors if they are 'beyond the pale' of society?"

Rose blanched; she hadn't thought of the consequences of her own selfishness. Surely she could manage to walk down the aisle with her father? Albeit an extremely long aisle, one inside the fabulous, but oh, so daunting Westminster Abbey. After that point, Benedict would be with her, supporting and guiding her. Yes, maybe she could manage this state wedding after all.

"I had not thought of any of that, Benedict. I think that I understand now. If you promise me that you will stay by my side and guide me, then I think I might manage."

Benedict was glad he had taken the time to persuade Rose properly, she was simply scared by the enormity and pomp of this marriage. Oh, how his loins tightened at her sweet words of submission. She had no idea of the effect she had on his libido when she spoke of his 'staying by her side and guiding her'. He would guide her all right. Benedict had so much to teach Rose, so much to show her. How he wanted this wedding behind him, so that he could make her his own, slaking his lust on her curvaceous body, finally teaching his Rose the delights to be found within the marriage bed together.

His pego was iron hard now and pressing uncomfortably against his fall. To cover that fact, he pulled Rose down onto his lap and squeezed her waist, kissing her lovely neck. She giggled and squirmed delightfully and Benedict knew his wedding night could not come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

"Thank you, my sweet Rose, I knew that once you understood the whole of it, you would agree!"

Benedict saw Rose home, and on his return, he immediately sought out his mother. "You may stop worrying, mother dearest. Rose has agreed to a London wedding!"

"Oh, Benedict, this is wondrous news, my dear. I was so concerned about how to manage arrangements at Merriton. It makes so much more sense, but however did you manage to persuade Rose? She seemed so adamant a few days ago… Oh, you didn't…"

Benedict chuckled. "Have no fear, mother dear! I simply explained that due to the nature of our marriage being a political arrangement between the King and the Colonies, we have no choice in the matter. It is imperative that we do as the King commands. Rose is a bright young woman and she saw the political necessity of obeying the King's edict."

After that, the wedding seemed to take on a momentum all of its own. There were endless fittings for Rose's dresses, hats and shoes and she barely saw anything of Benedict.

Benedict was also busy. Unbeknown to Rose, he had several meetings with Henry Randolph, her father, about business matters; in particular Rose's dowry and Henry's last will and testament. It seemed that until Rose had a husband, should anything happen to Henry, then his entire estate and the duty of guardian to Rose, would go to his brother James, Rose's bachelor uncle. That is, apart from a small cash legacy set aside for Rose from her mother's family and her dowry from her father. Once Rose had a husband, then the will altered in favour of Rose's husband.

Benedict wanted Rose to have an income all of her own, however, one with which she could buy any dresses, gifts or fripperies that she desired, without the humiliation of coming to ask him for money all the while. He met with his man of business, Arthur Griffin, and between them, they organized the arrangements to put his future wife's allowance in place. After Griffin had gone, Benedict whistled to Holly; she needed more exercise. The dog had become tubby and complaisant of late, no doubt missing that dreadfully behaved terrier of Rose's. Holly padded over to him, her tongue lolling and her intelligent green eyes excited at the prospect of a walk. Benedict scratched her head, reached for his greatcoat and they left the house together.

The days passed quickly until finally the big day finally arrived. The groom was full of anticipation and excitement while the bride was full of nothing but nerves and feeling a sense of dread.

As tradition required, on the morn of her wedding, Rose placed the final stitch into the hem of her wedding gown thus ensuring harmony within her marriage. Her wedding gown was made of the palest pink silk, tiered with the finest organza in a shimmering gold. Perfect silk roses of differing pinks ranging from a deep dusky rose to a soft baby shade were sewn one after another in a line from the centre back of the dress to the start of the ruffled skirt. The centre front panel of the dress was embroidered with roses in the same pink tone as the silk ones running down the back of the dress.

On the rim of the bodice of Rose's wedding gown were similarly coloured rose buds sewn in a repeating pattern about the edge of the low cut gown. Rose's décolleté was modestly covered with a white fichu of lace. Rose chose to keep her jewellery simple and wore only her mother's pearl necklace. Her headdress was a white lace mantle sewn with scattered pink and white pearls. Her silk slippers were pointed and backless, made from the same pink silk of her gown.

Rose had four attendants in all. As was the custom, they were each dressed in the same pink silk but the gowns were made of a plainer style than her own. The belief was that evil would not be able to distinguish between the bride and her attendants and thus the bride would remain pure and undetected by the devil and his minions.

As the footman helped the chilled Rose up into the ornate golden carriage made available by Queen Charlotte, she lifted her face skyward and sent a prayer into the heavens that she would be happy within this union. A soft dusting of snow settled upon her cheeks and nose, causing Imogene, who was the only one of her attendants she knew, to cry, "Good luck and fertility for the bride, it has snowed upon her, how very lucky that is, dearest Rose!"

Chapter Fifteen

As the coach neared Westminster Abbey, Rose could hear the wonderful mellow pealing of the old bells, tolling in hers and Benedict's honour.

Her father helped her down from the carriage himself and placed a gentle kiss upon Rose's cold temple. "You look quite stunningly beautiful, my dearest child. I hope that you will be as happy in your union as I was with your dear mother." Rose reached out and hugged her father before she placed her hand upon her father's arm. Taking a deep breath, they stepped forward together, heads held high as they moved into the entrance of the medieval magnificence that is Westminster Abbey.

They gathered themselves in the huge entrance leading to the nave. Rose's attendants placed themselves, two deep, either side behind Rose and Henry. Imogene handed Rose the family prayer book to hold, carried by all previous Mortimer brides on their wedding day. Inside the Church, chanting began their cue to move forward and walk down the seemingly never ending aisle of Westminster Abbey.

Rose stared straight ahead ignoring the concerted stares of the English ton who had turned out to watch this unusual occurrence, an English earl marrying a commoner and an American colonial to boot!

The sporadic blue winter sunshine lit the tiny dust motes and fine powder spilled from the many wigs worn by the hundreds of guests seated within the Abbey. Tiny specs were suspended in the air, adding a sprinkling of magic to the already fairy tale feel of unreality for Rose.

As Henry and Rose finally reached the inner sanctum of the Abbey, the chanted Psalm: 33 came to an end.

Silence filled the Church. Henry first led Rose to where King George and Queen Charlotte sat on their church thrones. Henry bowed his head showing his respect, but as a colonial man, felt unable to execute a full bow. Rose, who had been practicing the perfect curtsy, now executed the low dip of her body from the waist.

Benedict stood awaiting her at the altar steps. Henry gently placed her hand on Benedict's arm, kissed his daughter's cold cheek and turned away to find his seat.

Rose gazed uncertainly at Benedict; he looked quite unlike himself in a white dusted wig. He was dressed with a cornflower blue frock coat, white shirt, silver waistcoat and white breeches. In his pale blue silk cravat, a large sapphire pin twinkled with his every gesture. The blue of his ensemble bought out the azure in his eyes and Rose thought he looked like some exotic prince of old.

The actual ceremony passed by in a haze that was almost a dream for Rose but as Benedict placed a heavy gold band upon her finger, Rose's eyes met those of her new husband and a calm serenity washed over her in a gentle wave. It was done, Benedict, Lord Mortimer, the Right Honourable Earl of Straddock was now, and forever after, her husband. With a jolt, Rose realised that she was now an English Countess.

Benedict led Rose to be seated next to him while Handel's anthem of the Psalm: 128 was sung by the all-male choir. It was a beautiful and moving sound as the young voices soared high into the stone carved eve of the Abbey. When they sung the verses:

'Thy wife shall be as the fruitful vine upon the walls of thine house. Thy children like the olive branches round thy table'

Rose felt laughter bubbling inside her, oh dear god, do not let me giggle, she prayed. Luckily, she was able to stifle her merriment and the rest of the prayers and blessings passed without a hitch.

After the National Anthem of God Save The King was sung, Benedict led his new Countess over to where King George and Queen Charlotte sat together. Rose executed a low and elegant curtsy and Benedict made a leg. Queen Charlotte rose from her seat and kissed Rose's cheek before the King stood and took his wife's arm, leading the way toward the entrance of the Abbey, with Benedict and Rose following on behind their monarch.

As they moved in stately procession back toward the knave, the choir's voice again soared in celebration of the nuptials and the bells of Westminster Abbey rang out joyfully.

They travelled to the Queen's Palace in Benedict's dark blue coach with his crest, their crest now, painted on each door of the carriage. They were followed by the Golden Coach which took the attendants.

When they arrived, having driven around for some time in order to allow their Majesties enough time to arrive first, Benedict lifted Rose from the carriage and set her down gently on the red carpet that led into the small palace.

He bent to kiss her lips, cupping her head with his large hand. "Mmm, delicious, I look forward to much sweeter kisses later, my love. You look so gorgeous, wife, and I am truly the proudest man alive today!" Rose flushed, even as her teeth chattered.

"You are frozen, my love! Come let us get you into the warmth. Take my arm and we will enter together. Tell me, Rose, how does it feel to be a Countess?"

Rose turned to survey the Palace building before answering Benedict. It was a built of solid honey coloured stone. Palladian steps overlaid with red carpet, led up to the main entrance of the palace, a stone pillar stood either side of the grand entrance.

"Rose?"

She glanced up at Benedict, giving him a shy smile. "I feel very strange, I cannot explain it to you right now. I need time to digest everything later when I am alone."

Benedict lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath warm on her frozen cheek, his voice husky with pent up desire.

"I do assure you that you will most certainly not be alone later, my Rose… come now, their Majesties are waiting to greet us." Benedict slipped his hand under Rose's elbow and led her up the steps and into the Palace.

Rose was hot now. She had stood for what seemed like hours smiling and smiling again at hordes of the British elite and frankly, by now, she had enough. Benedict was conversing with Squiggleworth and his cronies and Rose needed to use the powder room. Excusing herself quietly, she made her way across the enormous reception throng toward the wide sweeping staircase which led up to the designated powder room.

A woman's lacy clad arm suddenly barred her way. Rose stopped as the owner of the arm sank into the deepest of curtsies, her powdered head lowered so that Rose could not see who the lady actually was.

"I offer you my fondest congratulations, my Lady. and I beg that you forgive me for any past slights that may have offended you." Rose stared at the back of the woman's head; she seemed slightly familiar but Rose was still unsure of her identity.

"Of course I forgive you, after all it is my wedding day and I wish for nothing more than everyone should enjoy the day, please do arise."

As the woman straightened Rose swallowed a gasp, oh phish, it was the hateful Lady Margaret. What a fool she had been not to recognize the woman.

"Thank you, your ladyship, your forgiveness shall go a long way in restoring me to my rightful place within society," she simpered.

"I do not understand," Rose whispered.

"'The Cut,' m'dear! You and your husband have seen to it that we are persona non grata but if I am seen to be talking with you as I am now, then others will follow and my mother and I shall be restored to our former place."

Rose sighed, oh bodkins, she was useless at this British peer etiquette system. She was also furious to have been tricked in such a simple way by Margaret Beauchamp. Well, she was an English Countess now and copying Benedict's best and most chilling voice, Rose replied as coldly as she could, "What has been done can also be undone."

She noticed panic in Margaret's eyes as she started to move away. Hastily, Margaret followed Rose, staying behind her all the way up the stairs to the enormous room set aside for the ladies' use.

Inside, several Chinese screens had been set up along the longest wall of the rectangular room, a china chamber pot stood behind each screen. At the far end of the room, three chaise-lounges were set spaciously around a large ornate dressing table holding a silvered and scrolled mirror. On this table stood a number of cut glass jars, with hinged, solid silver tops, each containing lead whitening face creams, powder and patches. There was also the very naughty addition of a pot of rouge.

Maids were on hand to help ladies use the necessary, lifting and holding the ornate gowns out of the way of the chamber pots. After Rose had made use of their services, she went to the dressing table and pondered Benedict's reaction to some rouge and perhaps a very small heart shaped patch? Would he approve, she wondered?

"You are really most kind to forgive me. I realize that I misjudged you completely, my lady. I am sincere don't y'know and to prove my sincerity I shall share with you a little known secret. The child that you rescued from the gutter…"

Rose spun around incensed to find Margaret by her side yet again. "How do you know about that?" she asked heatedly.

"I rather think our entire set knows about you and your strange little visitor! Especially since Benedict has been at such pains to keep you both apart. How hilarious it would be if it weren't so terribly tragic!"

"What on earth do you mean?" Rose asked in a leaden voice, a feeling of doom trickling coldly down her spine.

"Why, Lord Mortimer's by-blow, my dear, the very child that you rescued and brought into your own home… as I said, it would be too funny if it were not so very tragic."

Rose felt chilled to the bone but she straightened her back and stared Margaret in the eye, replying as haughtily as she could, "I fail to see what business any of this is of yours, Lady Margaret. However, I will say this. Nancy is a most welcome addition to our household and she will never leave our protection again. I bid you good day, madam!" With that, Rose swept from the room leaving Margaret grinding her teeth in rage.

At least half a dozen of her compatriots had overheard the exchange between the two women and Margaret knew that this latest piece of gossip would not help her return into society. After the entertaining sight of Lady Margaret wearing Rose's champagne at the opera, coupled with the juicy gossip about being flung from Lord Mortimer's country estate, on their return to London, both Lady Amelia and Lady Margaret gradually found themselves cut from every hostess's guest list. They had been singled out by their peers for ridicule, estranged from society, thus enduring the unthinkable, 'The Cut'.

On returning to the reception below, Rose's mind reeled, could it be true? Was Nancy really Benedict's love child, would he do that to her? A footman passed by with crystal flutes brimming with creamy champagne. Rose reached out and took two, downing one, she replaced it on the tray. Picking up another, she downed that too and placed the empty back with her first glass, ignoring the shocked look upon the young footman's face. She pushed through the throng and sipped a third glass of champagne while musing on the gossip that Margaret had imparted.

Could it be true? Benedict had not wanted her to rescue the girl, he had wanted to give the man that Nancy called her brother, money. Was this guilt? Rose was too shocked to think straight, but when the crowd around her gave one unanimous gasp, she turned to see what had caused the consternation amongst the guests.

On the staircase stood the Lady Margaret, and bent on one knee at her feet was Benedict's friend Wiggington, Squiggleworth. As Rose watched, he reached for Margaret's hand. The lady herself was moaning and shaking her head in frantic denial. Rose realized that Wiggington was talking and she strained to hear what he said.

"…do me the very greatest of honour in becoming my wife!" he finished triumphantly. There was silence for a moment and then much clapping and laughter which then suddenly died away as the King and Queen returned to the reception. The crowds fell away bowing and curtsying leaving a pathway open to the sweep of the stairs. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, King George called up to Thomas Wiggington, who was still kneeling as Margaret balanced herself with her hand placed upon his shoulder, steadying herself since she too had curtsied, as etiquette demanded as soon as the Royal couple had entered the room. Thus, the picture they presented was one of a happily engaged couple.

"My dear Wiggington, our sincere congratulations sir, come join us and introduce us to your future wife, Lady Margaret Beauchamp, is it not?"

Obviously fuming at the impossible situation she had been placed in, Margaret had no other option but to obey, and once the King and Queen had given their Royal approval, the deed was done and she would indeed be affianced to a pauper with impeccable blood line but with absolutely no coin.

Rose still didn't understand what was happening, partially due to feeling somewhat foxed by all the champagne she had drunk rather too quickly.

A hand snaked about her waist and Rose realized with a jolt that it was Benedict, grinning inanely from ear to ear. "Went like clockwork, just as we planned! We landed the fish, hook line and sinker! Even the King was in on our plan! I told you I'd sort Margaret out for you, didn't I, Rose!"

Rose stared up at him somewhat befuddled. "But I still don't understand. Whatever is the point? Margaret will simply break off the engagement later on."

"Huh, no she won't, the King has approved it d'you see? Social suicide. If Margaret breaks her engagement now, no one else would have her and she'd have to leave London because of the disgrace!"

Rose shook her head. "I shall never ever understand the rules of English aristocracy."

"You don't have to; you just obey your lord and husband as you promised to do today!"

"Oh phish, I did promise you that didn't I? Surely you won't expect me to obey you all of the time?"

Benedict frowned. "Well, yes, actually, Rose, I do expect exactly that… I say are you all right, you look a little green…"

"Oh, uh, I do feel a little odd and a bit... sick…"

When Rose came to after her faint, she was lying on a chaise-lounge in the ladies' powder room, stripped down to her underwear and surrounded by maids.

"What happened?" she murmured, her head thumping.

Beatrice, her new mother-in-law swum into her view and said, "You fainted, child, how d'you feel now, m'dear?"

Rose put a hand to her head. "The room is spinning and I feel sick."

Beatrice clicked her fingers and a large wide china bowl was passed to her by a maid. "Here, Rose, take this and sit forward." Rose did as she was bid and promptly vomited into the bowl.

"That's right, my Lady, bring it all up and you'll feel right as rain again!" The maid held Rose's head until the nausea had passed and then offered a glass of water for Rose to sip from. There then passed the most uncomfortable half hour in which Rose, who still feeling extremely unwell, was pulled and prodded into her 'going away outfit', a pale blue striped confection. The whole change of clothes seemed utterly ridiculous to the protesting Rose, since she was only to leave here and travel no more than a mile to Benedict's London house, her new home!

Chapter Sixteen

By the time they arrived back at the house in Brunswick Gardens, Rose was exhausted, both emotionally and physically. Benedict carried her over the threshold, more as a necessity, given her current state, than a romantic gesture. Carrying his bride up to their private apartment, he gently placed her on the bed before calling for Eloise to come and undress her mistress. Leaving instructions for her to ensure that Rose accept a little nourishment before she slept, he then sought out Roberts to order a bath to be prepared in two hours' time, ready for his wife when she awoke.

Rose opened her eyes and stretched languorously. She started as she realized that Benedict was watching her from where he was seated on the side of her bed. What on earth was he doing in her bedroom? He gave her a slow wide grin that crinkled his eyes sexily.

"Feeling better?" he asked as he stroked her forehead. Rose sighed, they were married. Everything came flooding back as the last vestiges of sleep left her.

She frowned. "Should you be in here?"

Benedict tapped her nose. "Of course, we are man and wife and you shall be in here with me from now on. I don't hold with this modern fashion of man and wife using separate bedchambers. You have a dressing room of your own and also an adjoining withdrawing room."

Rose stared about her realizing for the first time that she was in Benedict's own bedchamber and not her own.

Her gaze swept over the sumptuous room filled with furniture made from expensive burgh yew. The soft furnishings were all of deep turquoise brocade. Her gaze returned to her new husband. He was wearing a dark red silk banyan and the oddest looking slippers Rose had ever seen. They were claret silk with highly pointed curled up toes. She giggled. Benedict looked down at his feet where Rose was staring.

"I'll have you know that these are extremely rare, they are from the Far East and very exotic. I am one of only a few gentlemen in England to own a pair."

Rose snorted. "I am not surprised. I shouldn't think many men would want them!"

Benedict frowned and studied his feet. "You dislike them?" He sounded so young and so hurt that Rose gave in and howled with laughter. Benedict grinned and though she protested, giggling and squealing for mercy, he easily rolled her over. A couple of smacks landed on her wagging bottom before he proceeded to tickle her mercilessly. Spluttering with mirth, Rose managed to roll over onto her back and Benedict grabbed each of her wrists in his hands. He held them above her head and suddenly they were laughing no longer.

An intense, predatory look swept across Benedict's face and Rose swallowed nervously. There was no time for nerves because he lowered his head and took her mouth with his. He kissed her as he had done only once before—the time that he had thrashed her with his father's riding crop. The kiss was full of hungry urgency that uncoiled a hither to dormant need, one deeply hidden within Rose's female core.

The moment her husband's hand cupped her breast and his thumb began circling, stroking and teasing her virgin nipples, Rose mewed. Shock as well as wonder filled her as incredible sensations began awakening within her body. For the first time in her life, strong, male hands took the hem of her nightgown and slowly drew it up to expose her naked body for his pleasure—and for hers. Fingers encircled her ankle and then began to slowly slide up her leg, caressing every inch of her skin, stoking the fire beginning to burn inside her hotter and hotter. A strangled gasp came from her throat when his hand cupped her mound and squeezed gently and rhythmically. The kiss that had started it all changed as his tongue came into play, lancing in and out of her mouth, matching the rhythm of his hand upon her soft center. As a single finger dropped and pressed against her clitoris, Rose arched and very nearly unseated Benedict from the bed. "Easy girl… easy," he murmured against her mouth.

"I am not a darn horse!" Rose retorted pulling herself upright irritably. Truth be told, she was frightened of her own wanton response to Benedict's intimate touch; surely these powerful feelings were abnormal for a well-bred young lady such as herself? After all, Rose might not be English aristocracy born and bred, but she was a gently born colonial girl of some means and worth.

Benedict cursed himself for spoiling the moment. Still, they had all night and best to take it slow with a virgin, a first for him, and he certainly wasn't about to ruin Rose's first time by rushing things. He had taken the urgency from himself by seeing to his hungry pego while Rose had slept. This meant that he could control the pace of their lovemaking with his brains and not solely his voracious cock.

There was a knocking at the chamber door. Benedict rose from the bedside and went to open it. Two maids carrying a copper bath traipsed in, placing the tub on the far side of the room, away from the large four poster bed. They were followed by what seemed to be a never ending line of footmen all carrying pails of hot water which they tipped into the bath before leaving, each with a respectful nod of their head toward their master.

Rose pulled the bedcovers up high under her chin. She would never get used to having this number of servants and Benedict had called this 'a skeleton staff'!

Benedict instructed the head footman to leave a tray of supper outside their door in an hour's time. He ordered they be left undisturbed for the rest of the night, unless he called for someone.

Rose slunk down under the covers after everyone had left. "I shall need Eloise to help me with my bath."

Benedict shook his head negatively at her as he moved across the room to the bed. Rose shivered, he looked so very masculine, his dark hair loose about his shoulders, his eyes glittering in the flickering candle light and a determined set to his jaw. He was standing over her now and for the first time Rose realized that he was probably naked beneath his robe. She felt flushed and uncomfortable, unsure of her new husband's expectations.

Without so much as a by your leave, Benedict ripped the covers back from Rose's quaking body and scooped her up into his arms.

"You can't, put me down! Benedict…" Rose protested before falling silent—realizing that he could and he had. He seated himself in an easy chair by the open blazing fire with Rose held on his lap. Benedict stroked her arm.

"In a moment, darling, I am going to remove your nightgown and place you into the bath. I shall bathe you tonight and I have no doubt many more times in the future. You will listen to my commands and obey them without question, Rose. Tonight I shall make you my wife but I promise that I shall go at your pace and if anything I do frightens or indeed worries you, then you are to tell me. Do you understand?"

"Well, I…"

Benedict shook his head and tapped her hand. "Do you understand, Rose?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now stand up." Benedict pulled Rose's nightgown up and over her head, flinging it away onto the bed. Rose moved to cover her breasts and her mons but Benedict shook his head again.

"No, place your hands by your sides. I wish to look at you, for you are a veritable goddess, my darling." Embarrassed but flattered, Rose did as he bid and dropped her hands to her sides.

All Benedict's senses drank her in, from her swelling bosom, her curving waist and the swell of her hips to the delightful golden curls that covered her mound. She was delicious and she was all his! Leaning forward, he kissed her shell-like belly button and Rose gently hissed with surprise.

Next he led his bride to the tub and helped her into the hot water. As she slid into the enveloping warmth, Rose sighed contentedly. Benedict took the skein of her hair and twirled it expertly into a knot on the top of her head, thus protecting it from the wet.

"How do you know how to do that?" Rose asked curiously, frowning with the returning memory of Margaret's insinuation.

"I have a young sister if you recall. She adored sitting upon my lap, insisting that I play with her hair when she was younger."

Benedict soaped his hands and ran them over Rose's shoulders, and she groaned with pleasure.

"What is that heavenly scent?"

"Lilyofthe Valley. I thought that it would suit you. The water has been scented with Lily of the Valley bathing oil as well."

"Benedict?"

"Yes?"

"Why does Thomas Wigglesworth want to marry Lady Margaret? She's such a horrid, sour faced girl!"

"We-ll, Thomas's grandfather was a wastrel and a gambler, he lost the family fortune and the hereditary right to the title 'Sir' was stripped from their family. It was the most dreadful disgrace. Thomas needs funds, which Margaret has but he also has need of prestige. I think that if Thomas makes a good marriage, the King may well reinstate the hereditary 'Sir' once again. King George likes Thomas, but he dislikes Lady Amelia and her daughter Margaret, so he was only too happy to join in the conspiracy to trap Margaret."

"Poor old Squiggleworth. She will make his life a complete misery. He is such a gentle soul and with his nervous stammering and stuttering…" Rose jumped, startled by the bark of laughter that erupted loudly from Benedict.

"Like most other ladies, you have totally misjudged Thomas. Lady Margaret is in for one enormous shock. Thomas loves rude, arrogant ladies. He fell in love with Margaret years ago when she first gave him a crushing put down. Let me tell you that Thomas's choice of implement for correcting wayward young ladies is a cane. In fact, he has a whole arsenal of canes and switches. Mark me, the Lady Margaret will become a different woman after she is wed to dear Thomas and I'll wager she might be one we might even come to like!"

Rose squirmed a bit causing the water to ripple around her. "Oh! Um, though I think Margaret's behaviour is sour and vitriolic, I can't imagine something so dreadful. Though I suppose it won't be that awful through all the many petticoats she wears."

Benedict stopped his shoulder massage. "She won't be wearing any clothing if she is caned, sweetheart. Punishment for wives is always given on the bare."

Rose had no idea how to reply to her husband's information. It was several moments before she murmured, "Ooo, that is even… Oh..."

Benedict grinned as it dawned upon Rose that this would now apply to her as well. He took the opportunity of her momentary distraction to slide his hands down from her neck to cup her rosy tipped breasts, soaping the soft mounds and tweaking the burgeoning buds with his fingers.

"Mmm, hmm, all naughty wives, even you, Rose, are spanked on the bare. It behoves you to behave and then such a thing will never even occur."

Benedict knew that at some point his lovely Rose would end up with her bottom bared ready for his hand or strap or, at the very worst, his riding crop… but never the cane. Benedict had never liked the implement much but he acknowledged that each gentleman was entitled to his own preference.

"Yes, yes, of course, that will never happen to me, I shall be such a model wife." Rose nodded her head emphatically, emphasizing her point. Benedict grinned behind her back. His bride was adorable in her naivety. Slowly he let his left hand slide down between Rose's parted legs. He cupped her mound and trailed a finger into her folds. Rose sighed but made no protest and, after a moment or two of toying with her, Benedict stepped back and shed his banyan.

"Sit forward, my darling; I am climbing in behind you." Rose looked up sharply and wished then that she had not… for Benedict was naked and his pego was simply huge!

Benedict slid into the tub behind Rose and pulled her back into his embrace. The water had lost its heat but was still warm and pleasant. His hands covered her beasts and toyed with the buoyant, luscious handfuls. After a while, he slid one hand down to her mons and resumed circling her clitoris with his thumb in a languid and rhythmic motion, not too fast and not too slow, building and building again that tension within his bride's virginal folds.

When Benedict could hear her soft gasps and feel Rose's body's response to his manipulation, he inserted a finger inside her slick quim. Rose gave a delightful little mew and Benedict's cock gave a spasm in response. Faster and faster he plunged with his finger until he felt Rose coil and gasp. Knowing she was at the precipice of an orgasm, he pressed her nerve filled nubbin harder with his thumb. That was all it took for Rose to experience her first amazing, exquisite and ecstatic release.

While she was still boneless and biddable, Benedict flipped his wife forward, her head and shoulders hung bent over the edge of the tub. He told her to brace her hands upon the carpet. Benedict then reared up behind her delectable arse and lined his aching member up with her pink and pouting folds. Benedict thrust, pushing home, onwards through the barrier of her hymen, until he was finally seated deep within his wife, Rose was his… finally. He knew that he would not last long but that didn't matter, the difficult part was over and he could take his time exploring his wife's body and teach her new tricks without the fear of hurting her. Her barrier was breached and Rose was his for now and ever more. His hips jerked as his essence roiled from inside his shaft, the violence of his release making Benedict shout aloud with the almost agonizing pleasure.

After he dried her and tucked her into bed, Benedict had fetched Rose a tray filled with small delicious treats, vol au vents, tiny beef puffs, sweetmeats, tiny spiced sausages, sugared fruits and chocolate dipped nuts. As Benedict fed her and petted her, Rose felt muzzy, dazed but elated. She had mated, it had not been difficult and now it was done.

When Benedict removed the tray and laid down beside her, pulling her into his arms Rose assumed it was to sleep and so she was shocked when she felt the turgid length of him rising up against her hip. Before she could question, Benedict's mouth descended onto hers and she was lost again in a sea of passion and sensation that overrode any other thought or deed.

This time, Benedict placed his head between her thighs. He nibbled and licked her womanhood until Rose was sure she would rip the hair from his very head with the depth of her excitement. When finally he entered her, Rose thrust her hips with an involuntary movement which seemed to encourage Benedict to surge powerfully in and out of her slippery core until Rose wanted to bite and scream and… then it happened again… the overwhelming ecstasy that picked her up and flung her high up into the stars. Rose loved it all so much that Benedict most obligingly sent her soaring several more times that night, before exhausted, they fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, twined in one another's arms and utterly satiated.

Chapter Seventeen

The happy honeymoon continued and Benedict was delighted that Rose was such a willing pupil to his erotic tutoring. His final lesson had been in the art of fellatio. Benedict knew that Rose needed to practice this particular act to become proficient and it was a tutoring task he much enjoyed carrying out.

Trouble arose on the final day of their honeymoon, when Rose decided that the time had come to raise the thorny problem of Margaret's insinuations about Benedict's relationship to Nancy. They had breakfasted in the dining room for the first time that week. Up until that morning, they had been eating together in the massive four poster bed.

Breakfast within English stately homes was generally a more casual arrangement, with breakfast food set upon the sideboard, the family helping themselves to what they wanted. It was an informal meal, the only meal in which the servants did not wait and serve. Consequently, it was an ideal time for Rose to raise the issue that Margaret had slyly mentioned.

She waited until Benedict had eaten his cooked meal and was buttering toast before she spoke. "Benedict, when I was in the powder room at the Queen's Palace, Lady Margaret accosted me and told me a secret that I need to ask you about."

"Hmm…?"

Benedict was deep in thought as he'd just opened an interesting note from a well-known jockey, Fred Jones, who ridden horses for him successfully once before. The man had written to ask if he could ride Devil in the Trial Stakes at Ascot next year. Should he allow it? Was the horse ready for such a race?

"Ben! You're not listening to a word I say!"

"Hmm..?" Benedict looked up and gave an absent minded smile before lowering his head to his letter again. A sudden pain on his forehead caused him to look up, at which point he was hit full in the face by a hot, but not scalding, cup of tea.

Rose took one look at her husband's face and giggled. That would teach him to ignore her! Her laughter faltered when Benedict wiped his face with a napkin and got to his feet. A thunderous expression darkened his face. Rose decided that perhaps now wasn't the moment to question her husband about Nancy's parentage. Picking up her skirts, she dashed from the table and ran for the stairs. Benedict's furious roar followed her, almost stopping her in her tracks with fright. Continuing her flight, Rose decided it would be sensible to allow the gentleman time to calm down before she approached him on the subject again.

Benedict could barely believe that Rose had first lobbed toast at him, followed by dowsing him with a cup of tea. Well, at least it meant that he not been proved wrong when he initially thought that by the end of the week, his lovely new wife would end up across his knee. She would appear eventually he knew and then, by Hades, he would punish her. He would enjoy disciplining her wholeheartedly for her hoydenish, childish behaviour. Rubbing his hands in anticipation, he went to retrieve his note from Fred Jones, the jockey. He sincerely hoped that it wasn't ruined by the wet tea as he needed to reply forthwith.

Rose explored the enormous London house that was now her home having relaxed after she realized that Benedict was no longer chasing her. Really it was a delightful house, much larger than she had first imagined. There were thirty bedrooms in all, which she supposed was nothing compared to the two hundred or so bedchambers at Merriton but nevertheless, for a city home, it was impressive. Benedict's and Rose's own five roomed apartment was separate from the rest of the house. Up on the first floor, through its own entrance door on the landing, was situated Benedict's bedchamber—and hers too now, she supposed—Benedict's dressing room, her dressing room, his withdrawing room and her drawing room.

Beatrice and Imogene shared a same sized apartment on the opposite side of the house to theirs and the entrance door to that apartment stood directly across the landing from Benedict and Rose's own.

On the ground floor, there was a dining room, a study, a library and two reception rooms, one a morning room and the other a withdrawing room. Below stairs, there were the usual kitchens and sculleries, boot room, silver room, butler's pantry and housekeeper's sitting room. Up on the second floor, were all the guest's bedrooms and above that were the servant quarters, where Rose was now heading. She had decided that if she was to be mistress of so very many servants, then she would ensure that all those who served her should live in rooms as pleasant and comfortable as she could make them.

When Rose pushed open a bedroom door on the women's corridor, she froze with shock.

There was no covering on the wooden floorboards; the two narrow beds had metal bed ends. Each bed was covered over with a couple of grey blankets but with no linen sheets. The thin pillow placed on each bed, had a threadbare, plain white cotton cover on it. There were wooden pegs on the back of the door and a battered chest of drawers stood in the corner. There was no heat source in any of the rooms. Rose closed the door and moved along the corridor to the next room. She found that all of the rooms were exactly the same.

Incensed and quite forgetting about the breakfast debacle, Rose charged down the stairs looking for her husband.

She found Benedict in his study. Whirling inside and all but slamming the door behind her, Rose launched into an impassioned diatribe against Benedict and his family for consigning their servants to such cold and austere rooms. At first, Benedict thought that his wife had come to apologize for her earlier behaviour but no, now she was berating him about his servant's bedrooms!

Benedict simmered and steamed until his lid metaphorically 'blew off'.

"Enough!" he roared and crossed the room taking a firm hold of Rose as he towed her to his desk. Rose's eyes grew wide and she stared at him as if he had developed another head!

"You will bend yourself across my desk and grasp the far side until I give you leave to let go! Do you understand me, madam?" Rose blinked, how did this situation suddenly come into being?

"But..." she said, quailing.

"No! You do not get to speak—or indeed shout at me—further! Over my desk, right now I say!" Benedict enunciated each and every word clearly.

Rose had always thought that she would run from Benedict should he command her to do something of this nature.

However, now that he was here in the actual flesh, Rose found herself compelled to obey her husband. He was obviously absolutely livid with her and all over that silly tea throwing lark at breakfast. It was all too ridiculous for words!

Trembling nervously, Rose leant across the desk as her husband demanded and stretched her arms out over the polished wood to hold onto the other side of the desk edge. Unfortunately, this left her standing upon tip toe, which was a most uncomfortable position to be in.

Benedict was cross with Rose but most of his anger was bluff so that she would obey him. It would do no good for her to sense weakness within him now or at any future date or his discipline would be doomed to failure.

His father's voice came back to him, 'with horses as with women, start as you mean to go on, oh and Benedict… never, ever let either horse or women sense any weakness within you'.

"Your behaviour at breakfast was atrocious and intolerable and your shrieking insults now have sealed your fate, madam. I am forced to teach you yet another lesson in manners. Since this is a repeated lesson, we will move onto the strap and see if that has the required result in modifying your unacceptable behaviour. As I once told you before, my darling, this will most certainly hurt you far more than it will hurt me!"

Benedict walked to a cupboard set into the wall to the left of his desk. Rose lifted her eyes and watched apprehensively as Benedict removed a long leather strap from inside—one of the ends appeared to be split. Benedict's personal knowledge of the Scottish tawse meant that he was aware that the fearful strap was a daunting deterrent. His father had used the very same implement on his own boyhood buttocks when severe correction had been required.

"Rose, if you move your hands or stand up, we will begin again. Fifty lashes with the strap, twenty five for your behaviour at breakfast and twenty five for your more recent behaviour. Do you understand?"

Rose nodded. "Rose, please answer me."

"I understand but I have to say…ooh"

Benedict swept up Rose's skirts and petticoats baring her bottom, taking a moment to admire his wife's comely posterior and thus allowing his manhood a moment to wake up which added to his further lusty enjoyment. Benedict took hold of his swollen pego and gave it a goodly squeeze and then took up the best position in which to deliver punishment to his unruly wife.

He bought the strap down with a crack against Rose's delightfully curved sit-upon. As expected Rose reared upward with a shriek.

"My dear, you have let go of the desk and so we shall begin again. The next lash will be number one. Perhaps it would be easier if you counted out each strike. So then, let us begin again shall we? Ready?"

Hearing his bride give a small whimper from her position over the desk, Benedict sincerely hoped that after this spanking, his wife would take the opportunity to think before she acted in the future.

Chapter Eighteen

How could my husband have spread my legs for pleasure within the privacy of our bedchamber and now treat me in this dreadful way. To be laid bare and spanked in this humiliating position is completely inexplicable. How could this even be the same man?

"Ouch, ten!" The man who caressed her so intimately…

"Ahh... eleven!"The same man who had buried his head betweenmy thighs and… "Twelve… Oh God, Benedict!"

The pain of this strapping is intense; the searing burn of each stroke is almost unbearably painful. However, after the tenth stroke, this punishment is doing strange things to me. This virile man,indeedmyvery own husband and the memory of all that they shared within the bedchamber… That same man baredmybottom and is punishingme… it hurts like the very devil… but… oh God… I am becoming... so wet. I can feel moisture between my thighs… thisis dreadful! Benedict will see—he will know….

"Do I need to begin again, madam?"

"No, no, please no! Thirteen… Ahh… I'm sorry…"

The scalding stripes continued to fall and Rose called the numbers as they landed. Tears leaked permanently from her eyes. How could I have known that a strapping could hurt as much as it did? Yet, the whole session was becoming cathartic somehow…

"Forty five… I am soo sorry, sir."

Only five more to go… only four… three… two… one…

"I'm sorry… so sorry… sorry… so sorry…"

"You did very well, Rose. Stay as you are, please."

Rose felt Benedict move to stand behind her and then his hands clasped her fiery buttocks, kneading her flesh. She cried out and then moaned with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Then his hand dipped to her quim and there was the most embarrassing sound, a juicy noise that made Rose shrink inside herself with mortification.

She stayed silent, other than her weeping, because really what could she say?

Then there was a moment of fullness at her womanly entrance and Benedict's manhood slid home, pounding her ignominiously. Rose lay splayed, red arsed and split asunder. Open for him to use her as was his husbandly right. Then as Benedict's loins slapped against her punished rear end, Rose felt the most powerful orgasm that she had yet experienced tear through her very core, leaving her shaken but most thoroughly stirred.

Afterward, Benedict held Rose on his lap as she wept copiously into his shoulder. He suspected that she felt shame at her body's response to her punishment. Even though he had taken the trouble to explain to her that nothing she could do would change her reaction to her spanking and that some women did become sexually aroused by their punishment, she was still feeling an element of shame, of that he was certain.

For Benedict himself, it was a delightful surprise to find his wife so slick and ready for him. He had thought to take her to their room and have her suckle him, giving her practice in fellatio, but discovering her so aroused, Benedict had gladly taken his wife as he had, thus proving his husbandly dominion over her.

Taking Rose as he had—immediately after her correction—reinforced his role as her lord and husband. Perhaps in the future, Rose would show him due respect whenever she next took it into her head to begin throwing things at him. She would remember today and her husband's firm, uncompromising response.

"Benedict?"

"Yes, Rose,"

"Do you, do you now hate me?"

Benedict chuckled. "Deuce no, my darling. I shall always love and adore you—but know this. If you ever behave in such an appalling manner again, I shall not hesitate in correcting you and exactly the same will occur, I will take the strap to your naughty backside."

He lowered his head and kissed her; pleased that Rose returned his kiss and snuggled into his shoulder with a contented little sigh.

Rose still thought about the changes that she had wanted to make in the servant's quarters. They seemed so terribly stark and cold. She mused endlessly over Nancy's parentage as well. Rose was unsure what to think and the niggling doubts that Margaret had dripped as poison into her ear continued to go around and around in her head.

It was a shock to find that Benedict was so strict as a husband but since it was far too late for thoughts of 'if only', Rose reconciled to accept her life as it now was. Her marriage was a fait accompli and if anything, Rose suspected that Benedict would further settle into the role as lord and master over both her and his household. Her bottom was still sore and ached when she sat, but as time went on, the tenderness was easing.

Rose wanted some time alone to process all that had happened to her in such a relatively short space of time. She needed time to rest and recover from her punishment. She needed to think about everything that had occurred and to reflect on her position within Benedict's world. She wished she had a confidant to share her troubles with, and as it so happened that very morning, she was afforded just such an opportunity to escape and discuss her misgivings.

A knock sounded at the dining room door just as Rose had poured her morning tea. The inlaid mother of pearl caddy sat unlocked beside her and remembering Benedict's instruction to lock the tea caddy to keep the precious and hugely expensive tea leaves away from the servants, she hastily locked it once again before calling out, "Come in."

Roberts stepped to the table with a silver tray. Rose looked curiously at a note that lay upon it addressed to her. She had no idea who should be writing to her. "Roberts, would you mind handing me the letter opener from the secretary?"

"Of course, Madam." Roberts crossed to the top drawer of the secretary and handed Rose the slender sliver opener.

Rose sliced the seal from the letter with precision and handed it back to Roberts.

"Will that be all, milady?"

"Oh yes, thank you, Roberts. Please inform Cook that these thin lemon biscuits are divine with my tea this morning."

"Certainly, madam." Roberts clicked his heels and disappeared.

Rose waited until the butler had left before eagerly reading the missive that she held in her hands.

Dearest Lady Rose,

I hope this letter finds you well. I read in the London pamphlets of your engagement and marriage. I hope that you do not mind my contacting you, now that you lead an elevated life.

I thought of our time aboard ship and the friendship that we forged during the crossing together. I wished to convey to you and your husband, my very good wishes for your future together.

It so happens that Miss Endicott and I are also overwintering in London. Bath has become far too damp for Miss Endicott this year. It seems that she owns a small house on Brewster Street and we are lately come there.

I am happy living with the dear lady and Miss Endicott is very good to me.

Now that you are a Countess (imagine that!) I do not wish to presume upon you. However, I wished you to know that I am always at your disposal.

Respectfully yours,

Emily Jones.

Oh my, how marvellous. Emily, here in town, what great good fortune! Rose had not realized how very lonely she had been for the companionship of someone who had known her before her marriage to Benedict. She could simply be herself once again. She would return a note to set up a time when they might visit together. Rose looked around at the sumptuousness of her London house. She didn't want Emily coming here and feeling overwhelmed and Emily surely would not want to meet at Miss Endicott's house. Miss Endicott might wish to sit with them and they would be unable to converse freely. Rose went to her secretary and seated herself. She took out a quill pen and dipped it in the ink well before smoothing the crested paper and starting to write.

Dearest Emily,

How delighted I was to receive your letter. I am overjoyed by the fact that you are residing here in London. Brewster Street is not at all far from Brunswick Gardens. I have been terribly lonely for companionship and would love to meet you somewhere. Let us find a neutral spot, however. Do you think you could get away at about half past two, Tuesday next? We might meet in Kensington Gardens at that time for I will be exercising the dogs there.

Yours sincerely,

Rose. Lady Mortimer.

Rose sealed her note with sealing wax stamped with the Mortimer seal, addressed it and left it on the silver tray along with all the other post awaiting delivery. She clapped her hands with excitement. It would be simply wonderful to see Emily once again. Every day that passed by, Rose eagerly awaited a reply from Emily. Two days later, one finally arrived.

Dearest Lady Rose,

How overjoyed I was to receive your invitation. I will see you in a few short days. Kensington Gardens Tuesday next at two-thirty.

Emily.

Two more days and they would be together. How very amiable it would be to chat with her friend in an easy and open manner as they had aboard The Gwendolyn. Rose sent Eloise to purchase a couple of small gifts in preparation, a small bottle of Rose water and a beautiful silk handkerchief, embroidered with Emily's initials. Although excited about the forthcoming assignation with Emily, Rose felt on edge with the waiting, expecting something to go awry with her plans.

That morning she had tried to talk to Benedict at breakfast but he seemed otherwise occupied. He read the morning post and only responded to her questions with grunts.

Rose grew tired of being ignored. "Benedict, I truly have something of grave importance that I wish to discuss with you and I would appreciate it if you set aside your correspondence for just a moment."

Benedict looked over the top of the note he was reading and regarded Rose. "Whatever in the world is it, m'dear? You know I prefer our breakfasts to be relaxing. Could we not discuss the matter later on in the day?"

"No, Benedict, we cannot. You are so busy all the while that I never have a chance to catch you. I wish to speak with you about adding a bit of comfort to the servant's quarters. Not too much mind you, just a bit of warmth. Some hearths and new down blankets would do well for a start."

Benedict folded his letter and set it down. The frown upon his face did not bode well for peaceful discourse.

"Rose, we have had this discussion before. The servants quarters are the way they are because that is the way they have always been. They were good enough for the time of my father and therefore, they are good enough for me. Do not attempt to discuss this again." Benedict disappeared again behind his correspondence.

Rose mumbled under her breath. "This is just like our discussion about the subject of Nancy's parentage. You don't wish to discuss anything that I feel is of importance."

The paper he held immediately crinkled, as Benedict set it upon the table. "What did you just say?"

Rose drew in a deep breath. "I stated, Lord Benedict, that just like the subject of Nancy, if you don't want to discuss something it doesn't get discussed at all, and actually, I grow tired of your attitude."

Benedict rose, eyes narrowed as he placed his hands on the table as he leaned toward Rose. "Nancy, again is it? Well, my dear, you may have noticed that, as a peer of the realm, I am always out and about raping and pillaging the poor of London. I also require my servants to live in abject squalor. Is this truly what you think of me, Madam?"

Benedict's attitude seemed so severe; Rose felt her stomach flip flop. She swallowed nervously. She had not meant for the conversation to turn into a confrontation. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of the strapping she had received at his hand, really all she wanted to do was some good. Why was that so difficult for Benedict to understand?

Looking down at her plate, Rose mumbled an apology. "I assure you, Benedict, I shall never try to bring up the subject again." Slowly, Rose made her way up to her own drawing room. She just wanted to take a break from her husband. She would never find out the truth about Nancy if Benedict would not answer her or even listen to her when she tried to raise the subject. Rose sighed; she would simply have to resign herself to this life that she had been thrust into and make the best she could of it.

Rose made herself scarce for the next couple of days. She managed to keep herself busy and did not see Benedict again during the day time. Other than late at night in bed together, when Benedict rampantly made Rose forget any resentment toward him as he exhausted her body with pleasure, she rarely saw him. Consequently, she awoke late each morning, long after her husband was up and gone. Rose took to eating a light breakfast in bed delivered on a tray. She found that when she did descend later in the morning, Benedict was out, attending to his own business and he remained elsewhere for the entire day.

Tuesday finally arrived and Rose could simply not wait to see her dear friend Emily. She was up early but the wait seemed interminable. It was snowing outside but the park was not far and Rose was determined that the weather would not hinder her plans for the day.

Finally the clock in the hall chimed two and Rose requested that Williams fetch her light weight gig to be brought around. At just that moment, Benedict arrived home.

Rose was standing in the foyer with the dogs running circles of excitement about her feet, they were all ready to depart, when Benedict came stomping up the front steps covered in snow. He handed his hat, great-cloak and gloves to Roberts and continued to brush snow from his breeches as he removed his boots with the aid of the iron boot pull.

"You're dressed ready to go out, my dear, but by Hades it is blowing hard outside and it is extremely cold. Wherever are you planning to go in this snowstorm?"

Rose was so aggravated. She had so hoped to be away before he returned home. Now she would have to explain her plan to her husband. "I have an appointment with a dear friend, a Miss Emily Jones. She is a fellow American I met aboard The Gwendolyn and we are meeting in Kensington Gardens at two-thirty, while I exercise the dogs this afternoon. I assure you, sir, that I will only stay a moment and will be home well before dark."

"Don't be ridiculous, Rose; my heavy coach struggled through this blizzard. The sky looks as if snow will continue well on into the night. Your light gig has no business being out in this weather. I am afraid you'll have to send word to your friend that you won't be able to attend and rearrange your walk with her for another time."

Rose was furious. He just had to take this away from her…. She gave up. Why bother saying anything at all to him? He quite obviously thought her utterly ridiculous and immature, and she obviously annoyed him as well.

"Very well… if you insist, my Lord!"

Benedict's eyebrow lifted at her icy tone. He was taken aback by her quick capitulation but before he could reply, Rose had turned and already disappeared up the stairs.

The-the… autocratic bastard! She would meet Emily if she had to walk there! Rose dug through her wardrobe and found her warm fur boots. She discarded her fashionable cape and wrapped herself in a warm fur robe. Peeking over the carved wood balustrade, she watched until Benedict, the dogs and the servants were clear of the hallway and front door. It would be easier to exit there than to go around to the back entrance. The kitchens were full of servants and there was no telling where Benedict might be.

Rose slipped across the hall, down the stairs and out the front door as quietly as a mouse.

Chapter Nineteen

The bluster of a strong winter snow storm met her and nearly blew off her hat. She snuggled deep inside her robe and tied her hat on tighter. Rose had studied a map of London that she had discovered in Benedict's desk drawer. It should only take about half an hour to reach the gardens on foot. She would be a little late but she was sure that Emily would understand. The walking wasn't as difficult as Rose had expected.

The snow had kept most people at home. Indeed, there were very few carriages and the odd hackney struggling through the ever deepening snow on the roads. This was an advantage to Rose as she didn't have to dodge horses or people. However, she found the deepening snow more and more difficult to walk through. Thank goodness she had thought to wear her practical fur boots. Her soft kid leather shoes wouldn't have lasted a minute in such conditions.

Rose walked ever onwards around the higgledy piggledy streets of London and it seemed to her that she got no closer to her goal. She looked to see how far she had come and saw something struggling through the snow a few yards behind her. It was some kind of animal, no, two animals. What in the world? As soon as she heard a familiar deep throated bark accompanied by a little sharp bark she knew instantly. Holly and Pippin had both followed her! How in the world had they gotten out of the house?

She stopped right where she was and waited as they braved the deep snow to catch up with her. The little rascals! Both dogs panted from their exertions but happily greeted her. Pippin ran in circles and Holly stood still as Rose rubbed her soft head.

"Oh, you dear ones, what shall I ever do with you two?" Home was much too far behind her to return the dogs and after all they did need some exercise. She looked down at the pair. "Well, I guess as originally planned, you shall have your walk after all!"

Rose had no idea how much time had passed but she was getting tired. She could see Kensington Palace in the distance. Perhaps if I sit here and rest, just a moment, I shall be able to go on. Rose found a bench covered with snow. She swept off what she could and settled down. Holly and Pippin curled up beside her. She pushed her freezing hands deep inside her fur muff. If only Benedict had lent her his coach but he would never have done that. He would have insisted on accompanying her and she wanted to be alone with her thoughts and with her friend.

The streets were becoming deserted and the sun was dropping behind Westminster. Rose was sure it was far past two-thirty, and she knew that at this time of year, it would be dark by four p.m. Emily had surely given up on her and returned home. A tear trickled down her face and angrily, Rose wiped it away. I refuse to return home. I would rather spend a night in a common boarding house. At least there I shall have some time to myself for reflection. Rose had brought her coin purse with her. She had plenty of money to pay for a night of meal and board.

She felt herself becoming very sleepy, and shaking her head to clear it, she announced to her canine companions, "Come, you two, we shall have to find a place to stay. We cannot sleep out here tonight in this bitter cold and snow."

Rose stood once again and began the difficult trek through the accumulating snow. All she could see were houses with the streets of London snaking in all directions. Rose was tempted to simply knock upon a door. There was no boarding house that she could discern anywhere nearby and she had no idea how to go about finding one.

The snow continued to fall and was coming down fast in thick fluffy flakes. The wind blew in sideways making her squint as she attempted to see as she trudged ever onwards. Rose became so tired that she couldn't be bothered to look too far ahead; she simply stared at her feet and struggled to place one foot in front of the other. Surely soon she must come upon a place to stay.

Rose stumbled and fell into a crumpled heap. She had fallen beside an alley that offered some protection from the cutting wind. She pulled herself along the ground, around the corner of the alleyway wall. Rose curled her feet beneath her as Pippin snuggled in close. Holly lay across her tucked up legs at the back of her knees. With the two dogs almost covering her, Rose almost felt warm. She struggled to stay awake but her head nodded forward until she sunk into a deep, unhealthy sleep.

Benedict was beside himself. Rose could not be found anywhere in the house. After his return, Benedict had retired to the sanctuary of the library to work and had spent the entire afternoon buried in books and ledgers. When four o'clock came, Benedict expected to take tea with Rose as he usually did when home but she did not appear in the withdrawing room.

Benedict climbed the stairs to their bedchamber but Rose was not there either. Calling the servants together he questioned them as to when they had each last seen their mistress. They had each and every one replied that they had not seen her for the entire afternoon. In anger, Benedict strode to the coach house only to find all the horses and carriages in their rightful places. Perhaps she is in a huff and is simply hiding from me. Benedict recalled that she hadn't been as easy with him since he had strapped her. Well, that won't stop me from teaching the naughty besom a goodly lesson when I get my hands on her!

In the meantime, Benedict decided the best course of action was to simply ignore her. Rose would come out when she was good and ready and he had no intention of feeding her little fit of temper by giving her any attention over it.

After working another hour, he noticed that Holly was not in her usual place under his desk. He knew it was time to feed her and she was not begging for her meal. He glanced around the room, Pippin was also missing. By this time of day, the dogs would have been notifying him and all the staff, that it was time for their supper. A feeling of unease began to creep over Benedict.

Benedict quickly arose from his desk and made a thorough search of the house. No dogs and no Rose to be found. "Roberts! Have my carriage readied and brought around front immediately!" He hastily donned his heavy great coat, boots and a fur lined hat. Real worry began to gnaw at him and guilt ate into him as he realised that he should have looked for Rose earlier in the afternoon. It was growing so dark outside. Surely she would not have been so foolish as to try and walk to meet her friend in this dreadful weather? Benedict only hoped that the dogs were with her.

He stepped out the front door and was met by a blanket of silent snow. Every path and footprint was completely covered. Only a very few stragglers were still out and about. Where did she say she was going? Ah yes, to Kensington Gardens, but by Hades, in this snowstorm? Rose, you sweet little ninny!" Benedict jumped to sit up beside his coachman Williams. The added height would help him to spot Rose and the dogs if they were about. Giving his coachman directions, Benedict scanned the area with quick and alert eyes. There was no sign of Rose anywhere. The carriage moved slowly onwards through the deep snow. There was no way to track which direction Rose had taken.

A stab of fear now clenched Benedict's heart. A person could easily freeze to death in weather like this extremely quickly. He again swore at himself for sitting at home and not looking for her sooner. On they went, trying to follow the general path, always keeping the direction of the Gardens in front of them, hoping beyond hope that soon he would spot sight of Rose or one of the dogs.

A familiar sharp bark echoed down the street just ahead. Benedict squinted but could see absolutely nothing in the dark. Again the sharp bark of a small dog sounded. Benedict looked at Williams. "Do you hear that, man?"

"Yes, sir, I believe there's a small dog up ahead but for the devil of me, I can't see a very thing."

"Stop!"

Benedict jumped down from the carriage and ran through the deep snow which crunched under his feet as he ran awkwardly toward the barking and yipping that came from somewhere up ahead. The animal was visible but unrecognizable, snow clumped its fur and all Benedict could just make out were a pair of coal black eyes and a small pink tongue. The snow was as high as the dog's stomach. Benedict followed the small creature; it took off with difficulty, struggling through the snow drifts. It kept stopping, seeming to wait for Benedict to catch up, then gave a little bark and continued onwards, finally stopping at what appeared to be a heap of rubbish lying in the snow.

As he drew near, Benedict could just make out what looked to be a rumpled heap of clothing with a brown and white fur lying atop it, Benedict knelt down. Sad green eyes gazed up at him. "Holly, by gad, what the deuce are you doing out here in the cold, girl?"

The little dog who had led him here gave a sharp bark. "Pippin, so that is you? Oh my God… Rose?"

Benedict quickly reached down and brushed the mound of snow away and saw Rose lying there, as still as death but breathing shallowly, slumped against the wall of the alleyway.

He quickly reached down and lifted her against his chest. Tears of dread tracked their way down Benedict's cold face. "Come on dogs, good dogs… wonderful dogs!" The dogs followed as Benedict carried Rose to the carriage. He opened the door and with Williams' aid, managed to lift Rose into the carriage where she now lay against her husband who was busy chaffing her arms and legs in an effort to bring some warmth back to her extremities. The two dogs shook the snow from their coats before settling at Benedict's feet.

"Home," Benedict shouted up to Williams, "as fast as you can go, man!"

Chapter Twenty

A dark forbidding shadow knelt over her bed and Rose could not escape. She thought it was her father and then the shadow turned into the frowning image of Benedict. She tossed her head from side to side on the pillow. "I must get home, I must get home, I cannot find my way!" Rose clawed at the sheets.

Benedict leaned down to take her gently in his arms. "Hush, my love, you are home, you are safe now." Rose tried to pull away. "Easy now, Rose, easy, my love." Benedict placed his palm upon her forehead. She was burning up. The doctor had already been in today, the sixth day. He had told Benedict that it was fortunate that Rose had survived the exposure at all. Any further delay in finding her would have meant certain death.

Rose gave a congested cough as he laid her gently back upon her pillows. Pippin watched over his mistress as he sat guard on the end of the bed. Holly was ill and was bedded down in the warm kitchen where the devoted staff attended her.

Benedict rinsed out a cloth with cool water and gently patted Rose's forehead. He was beside himself with worry. When he'd arrived home that night, Rose was completely frozen from the cold. He had stripped her and placed her into a warm bath. It had brought some colour back to her white and frozen flesh but she had talked nonsensically as the fever gripped her. Benedict was sure that he had lost her—that his Rose would never come back to him.

He kept vigil beside her bedside remembering their quarrels but mostly remembering the joy Rose had brought into his life. Before he met his little colonial Miss, his life had been well ordered but extremely dull. The thought of losing her sent waves of panic coursing through him.

Rose tossed her head again and mumbled. "I want to go home, I want to go home." Grimly, Benedict wondered if Rose was longing for Virginia. His only desire now was for Rose to return to him. He would show her that England was her home now. She would want for nothing, including his love. He grasped her hand and bought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly.

"Come back, my love, come back to me." Rose turned her head toward him. Her eyes slowly fluttered open. "I love you, Rose." She stared back at him and for the first time in a week Rose spoke with clarity.

"You do… really?" she croaked.

Benedict squeezed her hand with elation and said gently, "Of course I do, sweetheart, I love you with all of my heart and soul. Oh, my dearest Rose, can you ever forgive my behaviour and impatience?"

"If you love me, I can forgive you anything."

Benedict reached out a hand, testing Rose for fever to discover her forehead was cool to the touch for the first time in a week. He reached across and poured her a glass of water and placing a hand beneath her shoulders, he helped her to drink.

"What were you doing out in the freezing snow, Rose? You nearly died, my darling."

"Oh, Benedict, I wanted to see my friend Emily who travelled over on The Gwendolyn with me. She is residing here in London for the winter. I was so angry with you but it seems so long ago now, I can't even remember what I was angry with you about."

"I think that our Holly and Pippin probably saved your life, my love."

Rose raised a hand to her head. "Oh my goodness, so they did, I remember, they followed me out of the house but I didn't realize it until it was too far to walk back. Did you find them still with me?"

"Indeed, I did. They are both fine, in fact, more than fine. I have a wonderful surprise for you, Rose. Here, let me prop you up upon some pillows. The doctor will be by this afternoon. He will probably order you to lie abed and keep warm and quiet. However, Rose, know this, your disobedience nearly cost you your life and so at some point in the future, when you are fully recovered, you will face a spanking across my knee."

Rose smiled weakly. "That I can cope with, my Lord, but I heartily fear your leather strap."

Benedict gave her a grin. "That is what a deterrent is for, my dear one."

He then fluffed her pillows and gently leaned her back against them. He left the room only to return immediately, carrying a lidded basket.

"Look what Holly brought home with her, for our Christmas present." Benedict brought the basket and set it beside Rose upon the bed. Holly and Pippin followed close by. They both jumped up on the bed to sit on the far side of her. Pippin licked her hand lovingly; he seemed to know that Rose was fully on the road to recovery. Rose peeked over into the padded basket.

Inside were five squirming three day old puppies. Each coloured with the brown and white of Holly but textured with the wiry terrier hair of Pippin. Their eyes were still closed as they squirmed about searching for their mother's milk. Holly gave a whine as she lay on her side; Benedict placed the puppies in a row beside her ready for her to nurse.

"Oh, Benedict, Benedict, I can't believe it, Holly was pregnant and with five puppies!" Rose looked across at Pippin. Ever the proud Papa; he panted happily watching his family as he sat on their bed. "Pippin, you are such a little devil." Pippin gave a happy bark and Rose and Benedict laughed easily together.

"It seems, my sweet, that Pippin was far busier than we both imagined, taking a honeymoon all of his own!"

Rose smiled. "I can't believe Holly would allow such a thing but since I allowed much the same liberties with his master, well, I can hardly blame her can I!"

Benedict chuckled as Rose scooped up a wriggling puppy and rubbed its soft downy head against her cheek. "Ah, you sweet little chickadee," she crooned.

"Rose, I know that you are not happy in London, so would you like us to live at Merriton with a full staff next winter? We need not return to London again if you would prefer. I want you to be happy, Rose, and on that note, I want to say once and for all that I am emphatically not Nancy's father."

Rose tipped her head to one side and smiled. "Thank you. I think I already knew that, Benedict. Does this mean that I can remodel the servant's wing at Merriton too?"

Benedict grinned. "So long as you ask the staff what they would like to be done and then discuss it with me, then yes, of course you may... oh and, Rose."

"Yes?"

"Before you ask me, we can keep all of the puppies at Merriton… but only if you manage to sup a bowl of broth right now."

"Oh, Benedict, I will I promise. I am actually a little peckish."

One of the puppies tugged on a sibling's tiny ear. "Look, they are so very adorable and funny, what a simply wonderful Christmas present they are!"

"Christmas Eve is tomorrow, Rose, so you haven't missed it. I shall send a note to your friend Emily Jones forthwith to explain what has occurred. Shall we invite her to join us for Christmas luncheon tomorrow? Would you like that, my love?"

"Oh, yes please! Emily will be so delighted and I do so want to see her again. Thank you, Benedict!"

"Now there are a couple of anxious visitors waiting outside the door. May I send them in?"

Rose nodded and he went to the door where she heard the murmur of voices and then Imogene came and kissed Rose. She was followed by Beatrice, who gently hugged her daughter in law.

"You gave us such a fright, child, promise me if ever things become so bad that you need to run away again, you will come to me. I assure you that I will be impartial for I know only too well how bloody minded men can be!"

Rose smiled. "I assure you that I did not run away, Beatrice, but I will remember your kind words and come to you whenever I need protection from Benedict!"

Imogene frowned. "Phish, whoever needed protection from Benedict?" A sudden hard slap on her bottom from her brother, elicited a squeal of outrage from Imogene, prompting everyone to laugh and Imogene to revise her former statement about her brother.

Eloise arrived with a tray of broth along with Nancy carrying a dish of finely sliced bread and butter. They curtsied prettily to the family and Rose waved them to her side where Eloise placed a kiss upon her wan cheek before ushering Nancy out of the room before her.

"Come, ladies, my wife needs rest, I am sure that you have presents to wrap ready for Boxing Day, so take your leave now and let Rose rest."

After Beatrice and Imogene had left, Rose gazed up at her husband with shining eyes. Benedict studied her, his eyes serious now as he said earnestly, "You are truly my beloved, Rose Mortimer, and I shall never let you forget that again, not as long as we both shall live. I promise that I will do whatever it takes to make you happy!"

Rose Mortimer, the Countess of Straddock would like you all to know that Benedict didn't forget his promise to her and they did live happily ever after at Merriton Hall—which over time, became filled with their own children and also a never ending number of dogs and their puppies.

The End

A MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERY ONE!

If you enjoyed this tale, then please take a moment of your time to review this book and encourage others to read it and enjoy it too!

Be looking for the new series, Masterful Georgian Husbands coming in 2016 from Vanessa Brooks and for a new trilogy by Beth Bennett. Escaping into a new book is a wonderful way to welcome a new year!

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