William opened his eyes and closed them quickly when pain stabbed through his eye sockets. He tried lifting his head, but there was a regiment of soldiers tramping through his skull. Completely disorientated, he lay without moving. He tried to remember the events of the night before that had rendered him senseless.
He remembered being at the institute with Rosa and Dhanu. Kapoor was there. He remembered the constables coming and taking him away and very little after that.
Images presented themselves one after another, pictures vibrant and strange. Dear God, what had possessed him? Carefully opening his eyes, he glanced about the room, seeing his clothes strewn over a chair, forcing himself to remember, to concentrate on certain things. Rosa’s face came to mind. Had she brought him here? Yes, he remembered climbing the stairs—and there was something else he had to resurrect, something to do with Rosa, something that was deliciously warm and passionate. Images of what had happened between them began to infiltrate his mind, images of how, even in his drugged state, he had made love to her. A mixture of incredulity and amazement worked slowly across his face. His heart pounding with disbelief, he experienced a wrenching pain of unbearable guilt and a profound feeling of self-loathing. Had she given herself willingly—in all truth he really could not remember—or had he forced himself on her? If he had, then how could he ever forgive himself? In a fit of lust he had robbed that beautiful, laughing girl of her innocence.
Rosa had informed Mrs Loxley of Lord Ashurst’s presence. She was clearly shocked to learn that Miss Ingram had brought a gentleman back to the house and allowed him to stay without her aunt and uncle’s permission, but apart from a few disapproving tuts she kept her opinions to herself. When Lord Ashurst appeared on the stairs and asked to see Miss Ingram, she directed him to the drawing room.
When he entered, Rosa rose from her chair by the window, where she had been flicking through some magazines. Surprisingly calm, she looked at him for a long moment, her face serene. All the way down the stairs he had been rehearsing in his mind what he would say to her and now he was with her he couldn’t remember a thing.
‘Good morning, William,’ she said, moving closer to him, trying to maintain a strong semblance of control while feeling somewhat weakened and vulnerable after what had happened between them. When she looked at the harsh, lean planes of his face, his jaw set and rigid, a vision of the tumble of dark hair against the white sheets, and the long, powerful limbs sprawled alongside her own invaded her mind. The growing ache in her heart attested to the degree of her feelings, of her love. To her at that moment, never had he looked so handsome—so unattainable. ‘How are you feeling this morning? Better, I hope, now the effects of the drug have worn off.’
‘All things considered, I am remarkably well,’ he assured her drily, fixing her with a level stare, ‘for a man who has made love to a woman and is unable to recall little of the incident. Do you mind telling me what happened last night?’
‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Some of it and I have to tell you that it does nothing for my male ego, my self-esteem or my pride. Only the remembrance that the woman I made love to was passionate, warm and responsive acts as a balm of sorts. You are right, I was drugged, that I do know. Why did you not take me to Grosvenor Square?’
‘I brought you here because you told me you didn’t want anyone to see you in that state. You were most adamant. Besides, you were on the verge of total collapse. This house was much closer than Grosvenor Square and I thought while you were able to walk at least I could get you into the house and put you to bed. Archie fetched Aunt Clara’s doctor to take a look at you. He was certain you had been administered a narcotic of some kind and that you would sleep it off.’
‘I see. You have gone to a lot of trouble. I am grateful.’ Remembering that this was what had happened he looked at her in appalled silence as a vague memory of this woman, naked and warm with desire lying in his arms, took shape in his memory. ‘When I awoke this morning to a small degree I was still under the influence of the narcotic. I was in a somewhat nebulous state. My memory of the night was unclear, with disjointed, faceless shadows flitting about in my mind. I was certainly not myself so tell me exactly what happened.’ When she didn’t reply his voice was quiet and controlled when he spoke. ‘You did stay with me, didn’t you?’
Inhaling deeply and raising her chin a notch, she nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Did you have control over what so obviously happened between us?’
‘Some.’ A little smile played on her lips. ‘You can be very persuasive.’
‘Did I hurt you?’
Rosa considered his question. Her body ached and still throbbed with a strange kind of tenderness. But she had wanted him to make love to her and he had been as eager as she had been—even if he couldn’t remember any of it. ‘You didn’t hurt me.’
‘There was a trace of blood on the sheets. You were a virgin.’
Rosa winced at the fierce tone of his voice. ‘Yes. Does it matter?’
A muscle flexed in his jaw. ‘It does—to me. It should also matter to you.’
‘Please don’t feel any sense of guilt.’
‘How do you expect me to feel? I have wronged you—dishonoured you.’
‘I don’t feel in the least wronged or dishonoured. If that is how you feel, then that is unfortunate and for you to deal with. You needn’t worry. I have no intention of demanding that you do the honourable thing.’
‘Do you bear malice towards me—for what I did before? Is that why you remained with me last night.’
‘Malice?’
Briefly Rosa closed her eyes. It was painful to recount his rejection of her, especially when she had become so accustomed to burying her thoughts—or trying, for no matter how hard she had tried she had not succeeded. Secretly she had missed him more than she would have believed possible, for how could she ever forget how volatile and rakishly good-looking this man was. She recalled the pain she had felt when told the wedding would not take place, the hurt and humiliation of it. Never again would she allow herself to be so treated. Besides, how could she be certain of anything with Lady Willoughby hovering in the wings?
Reaching deep inside herself, she pushed thoughts of his rejection away. Thinking like this served no purpose. ‘I don’t bear malice. I can understand why you did what you did and as far as I am concerned it is over.’
‘And you are sure about that, are you? Don’t you think that what happened between us last night has changed matters somewhat?’
‘What are you saying—that you have had a change of heart and will marry me now?’
‘The way I see it we have no choice.’
‘I disagree. I do have a choice and I see no reason for us to marry.’
‘And if there is a child from our union? What then?’
Dear Lord! Rosa had not thought of that. Her hand immediately went to her abdomen and something stirred inside her—a wistful hope and fear. ‘I will not have my destiny or that of my child—if there is one—dictated by circumstance.’ As she made a move to turn away, he reached out and placed a hand on her arm. Looking down at his hand, she shook her arm free. ‘Please don’t touch me.’
William dropped his hand as if he had been burned.
‘I think you should leave now, William.’
She crossed the room and opened the door, only to find it slammed shut when William came up behind her with the sure-footed skill of a panther. She stood there, anchored between his strong arms. Unable to turn, she could feel his closeness, the muscular hardness of him, the vibrant heat of his body pressed close against her back and his warm breath on her hair. She didn’t move as he shoved her hair aside and ran a finger down the back of her neck, trailing it round to her chin and along the smooth curve of her jaw. It was a smoothing caress that awoke tingling answers in places she tried to ignore.
The betrayal of her body aroused vexation in her. His touch burned her flesh and seared into her heart, reminding her how deeply she had come to love this insufferable man. It was a hard fact for her pride to accept, especially after he had rejected her so coldly. She trembled as she felt his mouth on the soft warm flesh on the back of her neck. Her heart was pounding and for a moment she was tempted to turn and let him capture her lips with his own, but she must not. She must be strong.
‘Please don’t do this,’ she said tightly, trying to control the beat of her heart, which was thundering in her ears.
‘Why? The damage is done, Rosa. What are you afraid of?’
You, her mind screamed. You, and what I might let you do to me.
William had come to London to try to win her back and he was not prepared to let her go so easily—especially not after what had happened between them last night. With desire crashing through him in waves, he looked down at her bent head, his lips brushing her shining hair. Slipping an arm about her waist, he drew her tight against him, feeling a shimmering tremor in her slender body.
‘This is a mistake. Take your hands off me and don’t ever touch me again.’
‘Don’t fight me, Rosa. You are emotional.’
‘I am not emotional. I am angry, while you are the most ill-mannered, arrogant, inconsiderate man I have ever encountered,’ she upbraided him coldly, ‘and I thank my lucky stars that I did not become your wife. Now please do as I ask and let me go.’ Without waiting for him to do so, she violently thrust his hand away.
William’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Reluctantly he stepped back. ‘I dare say I am all you accuse me of being. It goes with the title.’
Rosa was in no mood to be mocked and when she turned to face him she could see by the gleam in his eyes that he was doing exactly that. ‘Then with you as an example, I can only hope that Dhanu will soon be back in India. When you left me in Berkshire I fervently hoped and prayed I would never have the misfortune to set eyes on you again. Unfortunately that did not happen. Despite what has happened between us, nothing has changed. Such an outward display of temperamental frustration I regard as a sign of ill breeding...’
‘I think I have the picture,’ William drawled.
‘Good. Then I needn’t go on—but how I wish I’d never come to England and met you.’
William’s eyes, which had been soft and full of passion a moment before, now held a feral gleam. ‘Really! How easily those words trip off your tongue and how ready you are to insult me. Perhaps I am an uncivilised being marked by the life I have led in India—but how would you know what such a being is like, raised as you have been in the privileged, cocooned world of genteel drawing rooms you have inhabited all your life. Trained as a soldier, I do all manner of things you would call ungentlemanly and ill bred, things you disapprove of. And you are the most infuriatingly outspoken woman I have ever met. How dare you say these things to me—things you know nothing about?’
Rosa’s eyes sparked with anger as she faced him. ‘I did not realise when I brought you here last night instead of taking you to Grosvenor Square that you would be unable to control your inner cravings and seduce me after casting me off so brutally.’
‘For which I apologise—although it would appear that in no way did you object to being seduced. You could have walked away, but you chose not to. Where Dhanu is concerned, I thank you for everything you have done for him. He became very attached to you in Berkshire and has missed you not being there. In future I shall make sure he is kept safe, so you need not concern yourself.’
‘Not concern myself?’ Her face became suffused with fury. ‘How can you say that to me? Of course it concerns me. Had I not been present on the two previous occasions—the first when he almost fell foul of those two assassins—he would be dead now.’
William looked at the proud beauty who was glaring at him like an enraged angel of retribution and realised that she was on the brink of tears. His conscience smote him. ‘I know he would,’ he said softly.
Desperate to get away from him before she broke down and made a complete fool of herself, without another word she turned and opened the door, waiting for him to pass through.
In deep reflection William stood perfectly still, unable to believe the tempestuous, brave young woman who had stood up to him so proudly. Her stormy eyes were shining with unshed tears. He felt a consuming, unquenchable need to see her again soon when her ire had died down, to put things right between them. His attraction to her was disquieting. He was unable to put her from his mind. The sweet fragrance of her perfume lingered everywhere, drifting through his senses, and the throbbing hunger began anew.
He walked slowly to the door, where he turned and looked back at her.
‘Would it make things easier for you if I were to tell you that I am in love with you?’
She was thrown completely off guard and everything in Rosa’s world halted. Her shock and surprise were genuine. Dumbstruck, she stared at him. The declaration hung in the air between them as the blood pounded in her ears with all the force of a summer storm.
‘Oh!’ was all she could think of to say. He couldn’t possibly mean it. Could he? ‘Are you really?’
‘Absolutely,’ he assured her, in such a matter-of-fact voice that she could be forgiven for doubting it.
‘I—I am shocked. I—don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t?’ He laughed softly. ‘You surprise me. I’ve never known you to be lost for words.’
‘But when—How?’ She gave him a sceptical look. ‘You—you are not joking?’
‘No, Rosa, I am not joking. I do love you—quite desperately, in fact. When I thought I’d lost you it was a terrible feeling. I love you. I love you with my whole life.’
She looked at him hard, trying to read what was in his eyes. His words and his expression filled her with such confusion that she was forced to look away.
With a little smile playing on his lips, he turned from her and strode across the hall.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, taking a hesitant step forward.
‘Home.’
‘Home? But—you can’t say something like that and then just leave.’
‘I can and I will. Think about it, about what I said. I told you, you are as stubborn as a mule, so stop kicking. I know you feel the same as I do—I felt it when I held you in my arms, so don’t spend too much time on analysis and dissection. Follow your heart, Rosa, and not your head. I know my declaration has taken you by surprise and I am willing to wait for what I want from you—which has nothing to do with your wealth. I always get what I want in the end.’
To find herself tongue-tied had never been part of Rosa’s character. William’s unexpected declaration had changed everything. It had toppled her precarious assurance and with it all the judgements she had made of this man who said he loved her. With a small gasp she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and looked away, but not before she had caught the smile on his face and observed him raise an amused eyebrow at her confused image.
She stared at the closed door for a long time after he had gone. Had he been serious? What on earth made him think that he loved her? Such a declaration she had never imagined she would hear from him and she was unsure how to respond. Nothing had prepared her for this and she was as afraid of her own feelings as much as his. With him there would be no reserve on her part, no subterfuge for the sake of self-preservation.
What was she to do? Everything lacked reality. How should she deal with this? Her mind returned to the period between his kiss at Ashurst Park and him coming to tell her that he would not marry her. How happy she had been then, having discovered feelings for him and could live in the hope of her feelings being returned. Those days and all her hopes had fallen to ashes. Suspicion had taken place of hopes and dreams, suspicion that came in the form of Lady Caroline Willoughby.
But if he was in love with her, Rosa, she must have been completely mistaken about that?
Rosa’s aunt and uncle returned home shortly after midday. Mrs Loxley was quick to inform Rosa’s aunt about Lord Ashurst’s visit and was surprised when her employer appeared to be extremely pleased by his night-time visit instead of being shocked. Clara immediately sought out her niece, who seemed somewhat preoccupied. She carefully considered the strained smile Rosa had pasted on her delicately structured face. As much as she made the pretence, her niece couldn’t hide the effect that Lord Ashurst’s visit had had on her.
‘Tell me what happened last night, Rosa. Under what circumstances did you feel compelled to invite him to stay here?’
Rosa was still reeling from William’s incredible confession, trying to analyse it, afraid to hope and unable not to. Drawing a long breath, she began telling her aunt some of what had transpired—about Dhanu and the two men, how one had escaped and the other was arrested, and how Lord Ashurst had come to be drugged—but she did not tell her what had transpired between them after that.
‘What made you bring him here? Why not go on to Grosvenor Square?’
‘He—he didn’t want anyone to see him in that state—and your house was much closer.’
‘And yet you managed to get him up the stairs.’
Rosa lowered her gaze lest her aunt saw the truth in her eyes. She must not know that anything improper had occurred. ‘Yes. He—he passed out almost immediately. Archie fetched Dr Walsh to examine him. He was convinced he’d been administered a narcotic and that he would sleep it off.’
‘And this morning? How did he seem?’
‘If he was still suffering the effects of the drug, then he gave no indication of it. So much has happened that I could never have believed would happen.’ Her aunt was silent and attentive as she told her about William’s declaration of love. ‘I’ve asked myself what it can possibly mean. He seems to have had a complete change of heart and it’s left me so confused I don’t know what to think.’
‘It’s quite incredible, I agree. Did he propose marriage?’
‘I don’t think he would have told me he loved me if that was not what he intended.’
‘I think you are right, but I remember how angry you were when he called off the wedding.’
‘Of course I was. But since he left me earlier, I’ve had cause to scrutinise and analyse my feelings. One thing that has become clear to me is that my initial outrage was due to wounded pride and humiliation rather than injured virtue. Does that make sense to you?’
Clara returned her smile with understanding and settled herself more comfortably in her chair. She suspected Rosa hadn’t told her everything, that there were some things she preferred to keep to herself. ‘So where does Lady Willoughby fit into the picture?’
‘I no longer think she does. I might have been mistaken where she is concerned.’
‘What will your answer be if Lord Ashurst proposes marriage? Will you be prepared to give him a second chance?’
Rosa sighed deeply. ‘In truth, Aunt Clara, I don’t know.’
‘Then what are your feelings with regard to him?’
Relenting, Rosa sighed deeply and confided some of the thoughts that were beginning to trouble her. ‘In the beginning he saw me as little more than a means of paying his debts and financially securing his future. Now there is no longer money involved—truly—I have no idea how I feel. But what I do know is that there is something between us that seems to draw us together. He fills me with such confusion that I do not know what to think. He has a habit of encroaching on my thoughts when I least expect it.’
As the days slowly slipped by, much to Rosa’s surprise and impatience and apprehension there was no word from William. A gold-embossed card arrived from Lady Willoughby. It was an invitation to Mr and Mrs Swinburn and their niece Rosa Ingram to attend a ball at Willoughby House, Lady Willoughby’s mansion in Piccadilly.
Since coming to London Rosa had frequently attended parties at the houses of her aunt’s friends, but this was her first ball. She was apprehensive and voiced her reluctance to attend to her aunt.
‘William is bound to be there. Not having seen or heard from him since he left the house that morning, I am reluctant to come face-to-face with him at such a public occasion.’
‘Of course you can. Besides, my instinct tells me Lord Ashurst might have had something to do with us being invited. To be invited to such an important occasion is an honour and a privilege and a true mark of distinction, for Lady Willoughby is only ever seen in the choicest circles and her friendship with prominent members of royalty means that her invitations are not to be refused. You must attend.’
Taking her courage in both hands, Rosa gave in, but she was uneasy.
It was at a soirée Rosa was attending with her aunt when she next saw Lady Willoughby. Rosa was about to rise from the sofa where she had been taking a quiet moment when Lady Willoughby put out a bejewelled hand and stopped her, her shrewd eyes assessing her from a tranquil face.
‘Please don’t get up, my dear,’ she said, perching herself next to her. ‘I saw you arrive with your aunt and I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to speak to you all evening. I’m so pleased you are to attend the ball I am giving before returning to Berkshire. William will be there, which should please you.’
Rosa stared at her. ‘I—I beg your pardon?’
Lady Willoughby laughed her deep warm laugh and patted Rosa’s hand. ‘Forgive me, my dear. I do tend to be frightfully outspoken—too outspoken, my husband was always telling me, but that is my way. I know William quite well—from the days when he came from India to stay at Ashurst Park. He is always appreciative of a beautiful woman. The way he looks at you with particular interest tells me he has singled you out. In fact, you are the first woman he has shown a serious interest in since that unfortunate affair in India. You know about that?’
‘Yes—he did tell me.’
‘You will be good for him. You are just what he needs.’
‘I—I’m sorry, Lady Willoughby, but...’
Lady Willoughby must have followed the thread of thoughts on her face, for she smiled knowingly. ‘If it is any consolation to you, I know that William is very much attracted by you. I also know the two of you were to marry before you left for London.’
‘He—he told you?’
‘Oh, no, not William. The vicar of Ashurst—who was to perform the ceremony. I will not ask you what happened—that is your affair—but when I saw you together in Hyde Park I could see there was something between the two of you still.’ Tilting her head to one side, she said, ‘You are in love with him, aren’t you, my dear?’
Rosa stared at her mutely, and Lady Willoughby could read, by the sudden colour that sprang to her cheeks and the confusion in her eyes, that she had hit upon the truth.
‘You can rely on me not to let what you say go beyond these four walls, if that is what’s worrying you.’
Yes, Rosa thought, she could trust Lady Willoughby. She liked her and felt comfortable with her, as though she had known her all her life. It wasn’t difficult to see why William valued her friendship.
‘I do love him, Lady Willoughby.’
‘I thought as much—although I don’t think he is an easy man to love. Unlike many men of William’s background, he is a private man and stays away from frivolous intrigues, even though several ladies have made their availability known to him. When Charles died so tragically, William was quite beside himself with grief. It will take him a long time to get over what happened and to adjust to his new life. Charles was a highly likable young man, although somewhat wayward. He was the life and soul at any event, but he had a weakness for gambling and lost a considerable sum of his inheritance at the tables.’
‘Why are you telling me this, Lady Willoughby?’ Rosa asked, her face impassive.
‘Because you are different and I like you. Raised in the Caribbean you do not altogether understand the way of things here or society as we do. In that you and William are alike—and I suspect he is in love with you. William is my dear friend as well as my neighbour, and I do so want him to be happy with the right woman—especially after what happened to Charles. He needs a woman by his side to share the burden of restoring Ashurst Park to what it was. My instinct and my judgement—which is hardly ever wrong—tells me that you are that woman, Miss Ingram.’
Realising that she had misunderstood William’s relationship with Lady Willoughby, Rosa smiled. ‘Thank you for saying that.’ She lowered her eyes, a faint flush mantling her cheeks. ‘And now I feel that I must beg your forgiveness. You see—I—I thought that you...that you and William were...’
‘What?’ What Rosa thought dawned on Lady Willoughby, which she clearly thought was hilarious. When she stopped laughing she sat back and took a deep, fortifying breath. ‘Oh, my dear, how wrong you were—and quite naïve,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘I am far too old for William—although with one husband and a string of lovers behind me, I am easily tempted by a handsome face. At this present time my passions are directed to Lord Frampton—who is much older than me but he has a marvellous sense of humour, shares my passion for horses and is dangling his fortune before me like a carrot to a donkey.’
Rosa found herself laughing. ‘You are quite incorrigible, Lady Willoughby.’
‘I agree with you,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I have a dreadful habit of stepping forward instead of back. I have been incapable of learning by experience to conduct my life in less turbulent waters. Goodbye, my dear, and I am so looking forward to seeing both you and William at my ball.’
Rosa watched her cross the room to join a group of ladies, strangely touched by her concern for her well-being. Her words had dispelled any notions she had that she and William’s relationship was anything other than platonic.
The night of the ball finally arrived. Rosa spent a great deal of time over her appearance, having sat for what seemed to be hours before the dressing-table mirror as Dilys swept her hair up into intricate, tantalising curls and teasing soft tendrils over her ears. Her gown was a dream of pale lemon chiffon, with a low bodice displaying more of her swelling breasts than she thought was proper, but her aunt didn’t appear to think so. With a twinkle in her eyes she smiled with undisguised approval as Rosa fastened a diamond necklace around her throat and drop diamonds danced in her lobes, diamonds that had once belonged to Rosa’s mother.
Fingering them lovingly, Rosa smiled at her reflection. ‘Do you not think the diamonds are a little extravagant, Aunt Clara? Young, unmarried ladies don’t usually wear diamonds.’
‘No, Rosa.’ Clara’s eyes were sparkling with admiration as she looked at her niece. Her beauty was something to behold. ‘You must wear them. After all, what is the point of having beautiful things if they are to be kept hidden away? A necklace of such beauty should be seen and appreciated and tonight is such a grand occasion, don’t you agree? Now come along. Michael is impatient to see you in your finery. He will be so proud to escort such a beautiful woman on his arm. You look breathtaking. Why, look at you—daring, elegant and special, and so lovely. Any man, even one in his dotage, who sees you tonight, looking as you do, will surely find his heart going into its final palpitations.’
Laughing lightly, Rosa stood up and kissed her aunt tenderly on the cheek. ‘Two beautiful ladies, Aunt Clara,’ she said, looking fondly at her aunt attired in a gown of saffron silk and gold lace.
The preparations complete, they went downstairs to join Michael. He watched his two favourite ladies descend the staircase and the vision of loveliness he beheld made his heart swell with pride. When they were summoned to the coach Dilys carefully folded Rosa’s velvet cloak about her shoulders. Despite her apprehension at seeing William—for she was certain he would be there—she was excited and light-hearted. It promised to be a glittering occasion.
The celebrated parties and balls given by Lady Willoughby when she was in town were typical of the London social scene, helping to draw some of the gentry from their country estates. Tonight’s ball was to be a lavish and grand affair, with the cream of London society invited. The mansion was ablaze with lights and the roads around it crowded with vehicles. Footmen in powdered wigs and crimson and gold livery, bearing torches, met the guests and escorted them up the front steps to the house. Enormous bouquets of sweet-scented flowers in tall stands were placed around the hall.
From his vantage point on the gallery overlooking the hall, William lounged against a pillar and watched Rosa arrive with her aunt and uncle. He smiled to himself, a mischievous, calculating smile, a smile those who knew him would be wary of. She was a cool vision of poised womanhood and undeniably the most lovely young woman he had seen.
As if sensing his eyes upon her, pushing back her hood Rosa looked up and saw him. His gaze slid slowly over her face. He inclined his head towards her, feeling an instant response to her beauty, her femininity, seeing how the light from the many candles lit up her hair like a silken sheath as she passed gracefully inside.
Caught in the spell of those compelling blue eyes, Rosa could not look away from him. He had given her two weeks to consider his declaration of love. Now she was faced with him she was overcome with relief and a strange light-heartedness, her fears and uncertainties vanishing like the morning mist. She paused a moment before following her aunt and uncle to where Lady Willoughby stood in the centre of the hall greeting her guests, continuing to look up at him. Holding her eyes with his own, a strange smile playing on his lips, he didn’t move an inch.
He was attired in an exquisitely tailored claret jacket and pristine white cravat, the whiteness emphasising his dark, lean features. The meeting was more difficult than Rosa had anticipated. So much time had elapsed since she had last seen him—the events of that meeting, of their loving and how he had left her after telling her he loved her, still vividly clear in her mind.
Dragging her eyes away from his, after handing her cloak to a servant she proceeded to join her aunt and uncle to be received by Lady Willoughby, but she could not stem the wave of happiness that swept over her, making her forget the doubts that had assailed her during their time apart, driving out the anxieties. She yielded to the sudden temptation to let herself enjoy the evening, which already held the promise of enchantment.
Full of vibrancy and a striking presence, Lady Willoughby was full of smiles as she received them. ‘Good evening, Mr Swinburn—Mrs Swinburn,’ she said in her deep, throaty voice, her eyes beaming a welcome to Rosa. ‘And Miss Ingram. How nice of you to honour us with your company. I am so delighted you were able to attend.’
‘Thank you for inviting us, Lady Willoughby,’ Uncle Michael said, inclining his head as he took his hostess’s outstretched gloved hand.
They climbed the wide staircase to the grand ballroom, with its highly polished parquet floor, Venetian mirrors and crystal chandeliers. Between the long French windows opening on to a balcony were huge urns on pedestals, bursting with a profusion of flowers. Elegant gilt chairs were placed at intervals along the walls. Footmen passed among the guests with salvers of champagne. Inside the supper room tables were laden with an amazing feast—a riot of plenty to be eaten off Sèvres plates and wine to be drunk from Venetian glasses. The whole was an elaborate display, exquisitely beautiful, for this ball being given by Lady Caroline Willoughby.
Rosa was dazzled by the fashionable company, recognising several faces from her drives through the park and visits to private drawing rooms with Aunt Clara. She felt a sudden shyness on joining these distinguished, sophisticated members of society—this gay, rakish and exclusive set who graced the echelons of London society. Looking like a vision from heaven, she entered the ballroom on her uncle’s arm and almost immediately drew the attention of most of those present.
Michael gently squeezed her hand in the crook of his arm, sensing her hesitance. ‘Don’t be nervous, my dear. Within no time at all your dance card will be full. But make sure you save a dance for me. I do declare this is going to be the most enjoyable evening I’ve had in a long time.’
He was proved right. Within minutes Rosa’s dance card was almost full, although she was disappointed that there was no sign of William. Laughter and frivolity surrounded her and she found herself responding to it automatically. It was during her second dance, her partner a flamboyant young lord with an impudent grin, when she next saw William standing on the edge of the ballroom. She could feel his presence with every fibre of her being and an increasing comforting warmth suffused her. A strange sensation of security, of knowing he was close at hand, pleased her.
On his way to the ballroom William had been accosted by some friends and acquaintances, one after another eager, male and female, demanding his attention, which had prevented him from seeking Rosa out. He had watched her take to the floor with her partner and his heart wrenched when he looked on her unforgettable face, so poised, so lovely that he ached to hold her. Her whole presence seemed to blaze across the ballroom at him, eliminating all else.
Clara had watched him from the moment he had entered the ballroom. Countless young women vied for his attention all the time. Lord Ashurst, she noted, treated them with amused tolerance, for his attention was on only one female.
‘Lord Ashurst is here, Rosa,’ she murmured to her niece when she concluded her dance. ‘He looks at you a great deal.’
Rosa glanced in his direction. She saw his head above the crowd and instinctively knew he was looking for her. When his eyes locked on to hers and he smiled, a lazy cocksure smile, she felt her heart turn over exactly as it always did when he looked at her. She saw the glow in his half-shuttered eyes kindle slowly into flame and deep within her she felt the answering stirrings of longing, a longing to feel the tormenting sweetness of his embrace and the stormy passion of his kiss.
She watched the tall, daunting, devastatingly handsome man head in her direction with a feeling of anticipation, not in the least surprised when the throng parted before him like the Red Sea before Moses.
After politely greeting her aunt and uncle, he settled his attention on Rosa. ‘As you do not appear to be taken for this dance, I wonder if I might—’
‘Oh—but my next dance is with Uncle Michael.’
‘I don’t think he will mind if I steal you away,’ he said, looking to her uncle for permission.
Michael laughed. ‘You have my full permission, Lord Ashurst. You will make my niece a far better partner than I.’ He looked at his wife, holding out his hand. ‘Clara—shall we?’
Rosa watched as the two of them swept onto the floor. At the same time William slipped a hand beneath her arm to whisk her into the dance as the orchestra struck up a waltz.
‘Come. I would have this dance with you before you are swept away by yet another overzealous swain.’
On the dance floor Rosa abandoned her waist to his encircling arm. It was as steady and firm as a rock. He held her close to his firm body, closer than was proper, she thought, but she could not have objected if she wanted to. Feeling as if she were in a dream, she placed her gloved hand in his and looked up at him as he whirled her round with a relaxed grace. He was a superb dancer. As he spun her into the dance she seemed to soar with the melody. It was as if they were one being, their movements perfectly in tune.
They danced in silence for a few moments, a silence in which William noted the strange lights dancing in her shining hair and her slender shoulders gleaming with a soft, creamy lustre. ‘You look ravishing,’ he murmured. ‘And this is pleasant, is it not, Rosa?’
Feeling his arm tighten about her, Rosa looked into his eyes. ‘Do you usually snatch your partners away from their chaperons in that way?’
He raised one well-defined eyebrow, looking down at her. A faint half-smile played on his lips as if he knew exactly what was going on in her mind. ‘Only when I think they might need rescuing.’
‘And what made you think I might needed rescuing?’
‘Come now, Rosa. Admit you would rather be dancing with me than your uncle. Besides, I could not resist the opportunity to dance with you—the most beautiful woman in the room.’ His hooded eyes captured hers. ‘So, have I given you enough time to consider what I confessed to you on our last meeting?’ he asked, twirling her round.
‘Yes—although I’m disappointed that you left it so long to see me,’ she admitted, feeling the music possessing her as her body moved to the melody, melting into him.
‘Can you not now agree that if we are to get to know each other on more intimate terms,’ he went on, lowering his head so that his mouth was very close to her ear, ‘it should allow us privileges above the usual stilted decorum of strangers.’
‘But you and I are not strangers, are we?’
‘Have you missed me?’ he asked.
Gazing up at him, she was happy to see his eyes were serious and devoid of his usual arrogance. His question and the anticipation of her answer was warmly evocative when he spoke and she felt as if she were dissolving inside when those soft, mellow tones caressed her senses. She wanted to tell him that she had missed him more than she would have believed possible, that she had missed his presence, his quiet strength, his lazy smile and the way he was looking at her now.
‘Yes,’ she admitted softly, feeling his warm breath fan her cheek, which was almost her undoing. ‘After saying what you did, when you left me I was so confused I didn’t know what to think. Before I left Berkshire, when you came to tell me you were not going to marry me after all, I was too hasty to have you gone. I’m sorry. I was hurt and upset, but I realise now I should have given you the opportunity to explain in more detail why you had changed your mind.’
‘I should have made the opportunity. I should have told you. I should have made you listen. I want to explain everything to you—when the music ends I will.’
‘Thank you. I would like that.’
‘You are not still angry with me?’
‘Why? Should I be? I know I said things—we both said things...’
‘Forget them. It was a misunderstanding. A silly, pointless misunderstanding. Everyone says things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment—and as I recall,’ he murmured, a spark of laughter in his eyes, ‘the temperature was definitely heated on one particular occasion that I strive to recall all the pleasurable details.’
Rosa flushed and her heart began to throb in deep, aching beats. The reminder of that night she had lain in his arms, his touch, had been branded on her memory with a clarity that set her body aflame. She raised her eyes to his, seeing them darken and his expression gentle. ‘How could I possibly forget.’
William’s lips curved in a soft, satisfied smile and tenderness washed through him at the sincere honesty of her reply. ‘As an experienced man of the world I never would have believed that I would fall victim to a beautiful, innocent young woman who has the power to amuse, enchant, bewitch and infuriate me as no other woman has done before.’
The tenderness in William’s eyes warmed Rosa’s heart.
‘You dance divinely, by the way.’
‘So my two partners have told me.’
‘Saucy minx,’ he murmured, smiling.
‘And you dance very well, too.’
‘Praise indeed,’ he quipped, sweeping her into another dizzying whirl.
Content to let the music carry them along, they fell silent. Rosa gazed up at William’s achingly handsome face and into his bold, hypnotic eyes, lost in her own thoughts, before she realised that his gaze had dropped to her lips and his arm tightened around her waist, drawing her against the hard rack of his chest.
‘Don’t look at me like that unless you want me to kiss you, Rosa,’ he murmured huskily, his eyes dark with passion.
Rosa’s cheeks burned. The reminder of his kiss, his touch, had been branded on her memory with a clarity that set her body aflame. She raised her eyes to his, seeing them darken and his expression gentle.
‘You, my love, are blushing.’
‘Any female would blush when you say the things you do and look at them like that. Please stop it, William. People will notice.’
‘Then let us go somewhere more private.’
Before Rosa knew what was happening, William had deftly danced her through one of the French windows on to the balcony, drawing her away from the light and standing close beside her near the balustrade. Warning bells began ringing inside her head, telling her of the impropriety of being on the balcony alone with him, but she felt far too light-hearted and happy to object and refused to listen to them.