CHAPTER TWELVE
Rose had never before attended a dinner at Faringdon Abbey as a guest.
In the months since they had arrived, she had taken dinner in Lady Caro’s study as they worked, eaten off a tray in her room and, on occasion, dined with the staff in the kitchen. Before they had arrived, Lady Caro had Rose make preparations for several dinner parties and soirees as a way to introduce herself and Sir George to the local society. Those plans had, of course, been abandoned, and while the investigation into Sir George’s death continued, when Lady Caro arranged a sit-down dinner, it was only those who resided in the house who attended. Tonight, however, Lady Caro had invited Rose and Nathanial to dine, as Lord Henry Faringdon had finally returned to Yorkshire.
Lady Caro had thought his return a good excuse to summon Rose and Nathanial so they could observe those present during Sir George’s death without drawing too much attention to the activity. Lord Henry himself had left the day before Sir George’s demise in the company of his sister. Lady Anne had remained in London to find herself a husband, a fact Rose was intimately acquainted with due to the invoices she processed for mantua makers and milliners and a dozen of others.
Such a small party meant Rose could not hide, and she shifted in her seat, uncomfortably aware of the dirty looks Lord William shot her, and the disdainful sniffs Lady William aimed in her direction. Rose could only lift her chin and suffer through it. She knew this was above her station, but Lady Caro had insisted she was a guest, and when she’d protested to Nathanial, he’d regarded her without expression and, once she’d exhausted her protest, declared he saw no issue with it.
She grimaced. She had to stop referring to him by his given name, even in the safety of her own mind.
For dinner, Lady Caro had taken her place at the head of the table, a fact Lord William clearly resented. He sat to Lady Caro’s left, shooting glares at Lady Caro when he wasn’t shooting them at Rose. Lady William sat between her husband and Nathanial, while Rose sat beside the newest arrival to the Abbey. They had finished dessert and now awaited Lady Caro’s pronouncement they could move on to after dinner refreshments. Lady Caro currently conversed with Nathani—Mr Evans—and, though she offered a brave face, Rose had seen the strain beneath. This was draining on her, and the sooner Rose and Mr Evans discovered the murderer, the better.
“My father is a bit of a blowhard, is he not?” Beside her, Lord Henry smiled conspiratorially, as if they shared a joke.
Her attention drawn, , Rose didn’t know how to respond. Before tonight, she had never once spoken with Lord Henry. When first she and Lady Caro had arrived at Faringdon Abbey, Lord and Lady William had greeted them, their children nowhere to be seen. As the weeks had gone by, she’d had occasion to see Lord Henry but rarely, but she organised payment of his debts as she did all the Faringdons, and she knew his tastes to be as expensive and aimless as the rest of his family.
She chided herself for the uncharitable thought. She should not form opinion on his character based on such flimsy evidence. Everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt, even aimless young men.
Handsome face set in a charming grin, he awaiting her response. Looking through her lashes, she returned his smile shyly, even managing to conjure a blush. “I would never presume to comment on Lord William’s demeanour, my lord.”
“Please, call me Henry. And I shall call you Rose. After all, you are in my cousin’s affections, and I know soon you will be in mine.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being forward. He still held that charming smile, and there was nothing untoward about his expression or his tone, but the words… “I am fond of Lady Caro also. I could not hope for a better employer.”
“And yet, you do not attend her. You are her companion, but you do not reside with her? It is odd, is it not, for you to be in lodgings away from her?”
“Lady Caro has asked me to assist Mr Evans with his inquiry. For simplicity’s sake, I am temporarily removed to Lowry’s Inn.”
“Ah yes, the inquiry. Such terrible business. I am devastated for my cousin.”
“I’m sure Lady Caro appreciates your condolences, my lord,” she murmured.
His white teeth flashed. “Henry, my dear Rose. You must call me Henry.” He dimmed. “But tell me, does Mr Evans’ inquiry go well?”
“I cannot comment, my—” He frowned in warning. “Henry,” she amended. “I am not privy to Mr Evans’ thoughts.” A blatant lie, but Lord Henry did not need to know the conversations she shared with Nathanial. And there was something…
He said the right things and he looked the right way, but she was not convinced of his sincerity. It was nothing he had done, per se… “You are recently returned from London, are you not, sir?”
“Yes. This morning. I visited with my sister, who is staying with my aunt. She is being brought out in society. It is a trial to her, as I am certain it is to all young ladies.” He paused. “I do beg your pardon, Rose, I mean no offence.”
She had no idea to what he referred. “I have taken none.”
“It must seem a dream to you, to attend Society, and I have spoken of my sister’s petty grievance. Truly, I beg your forgiveness.”
Did he truly believe she cared about such things? She knew what she was—the daughter of a tavern owner who had somehow stumbled into a dinner with her betters. Perhaps, when she was very young, she had dreamt of such things but she had never thought she would ever move in the circles Lady Caro did as an equal to those present. She had seen societies in all parts of the world, and she knew she belonged in none of them.
“But then again, what need of you for the marriage mart? My sister suffers so, with the constant worry about her suitors and such. Your employment with Lady Caro gives you stability, does it not? It must be nice, not to have concern about such things.”
She offered a smile, her mind racing. Sincerity or no? Did he truly wish her well?
Glancing across the table, her gaze snagged on Nathanial. He stared at her and Lord Henry, unsubtle in his regard.
Uncertain what they had done to earn such a look of ire, she shifted her attention to Lord Henry. “Your sister seeks a match, my lord?”
“Don’t all young ladies? Even my cousin, though she resisted for many years, finally was felled. Terrible what happened to Sir George. I offered my condolence in person this morning, as I had in my letter. Truly shocking state of affairs, that such a thing should occur. If only I were here to offer her comfort. Tell me, Miss Webster, has Mr Evans yet caught the guilty party?”
“He is investigating still, my lord. As I said, though, I am not privy to his thoughts, though I believe he progresses.” She flicked her gaze again to the man in question. Nathanial still stared at them, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Lady William held a one-way conversation. Rose lifted her brow in silent query but he did not respond, dark brows drawn as his gaze burned into her.
His unswerving attention unnerved her, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The move tugged at the bruising on her ribs, and she gave a quiet gasp.
Lord Henry noticed her wince. “Are you well, Rose?”
“It is nothing, Lord Henry.”
“Please, Rose, I insist you call me Henry, and I do believe you are decidedly unwell. Your face has paled, and you clearly cradle your side. Can I assist at all?”
His concern appeared genuine, and there was nothing to suggest it was not. She was imagining things, is all. “I will be well. It is merely a bruise.” She could not bring herself to refer to him by his given name.
“Ah, well if it is pain you feel, perhaps a tincture would be useful? My sister often uses a particular collection of herbs for—” He stopped, a flush appearing on his cheeks. “It is indelicate of me to mention such, but she finds it useful. A woman in the village brews it for her, and I am certain one of the servants could fetch it for you.”
“Thank you, sir. I have a remedy of my own that perhaps I will partake of. It is kind of you to offer assistance.”
Before he could respond, Lady Caro stood. “I believe the ladies will retire for tea and refreshments. Gentlemen, we will leave you to your cigars.”
Lord Henry smiled. “It was a delight conversing with you, Rose.”
“And you, sir.”
He frowned.
“Henry,” she said.
A sunny grin lit her face. “I do hope I see you again tomorrow, Rose. Perhaps I will visit Lowry’s and we can take a walk in the village.”
Did he mean…was he suggesting he court her? Confused, Rose followed Lady Caro’s suit and stood, offering Lord Henry a quick curtsey before following Lady Caro and Lady William from the dining room. Trailing behind them, she thought on Lord Henry’s conversation and his confusing sincerity.
Before she reached the drawing room, a hand caught her arm. Jerking her head around, she discovered Nathanial, still wearing that unreadable expression he’d worn at the dining table.
“I need to speak with you,” he said.
She glanced in the direction of the dining room. “We shall be missed.”
“It is of no matter. Come.”
Bemused, she allowed him to lead her to an empty drawing room. “What do you need to speak with me about?” she asked as they entered.
Dropping her arm, he turned. “What did Faringdon say to you?” he demanded.
She blinked. “Lord Henry?”
He exhaled impatiently. “Yes. What did he say?”
“Nothing of consequence. Can this not wait? I am expected by the other ladies.”
“No, it cannot wait. Why was he looking at you in that manner?”
She frowned. He appeared…agitated. “What manner?”
“He kept looking at you and smiling and he had his hand approximately two and a half centimetres from yours.”
She blinked. “What? When?”
“When your hand was on the table. He—” He glowered. “What did you speak of?”
“I don’t know what you wish me to say.”
“I wish you to tell me of what you spoke!”
She blanched.
He gentled his tone. “Please,” he said through gritted teeth.
She did not know why he was reacting such. He was on edge, his eyes almost wild. She had never seen him display such emotion. It was…almost disturbing. “We spoke of his father’s attitude. London. His sister’s entry to society. Sir George’s death. Lady Caro. Pain relief. As I said, nothing of consequence.”
His gaze sharpened. “Pain relief? Why did you speak of pain relief?”
“My ribs were troubling me and he—”
“You are hurt? Why did you say nothing?”
“Because it is nothing. Merely a bit of bruising. It will most likely be gone in the morning.”
His throat moved. “This is because of the shooting.”
She nodded.
“When I discover who shot at us, they will regret it.”
“Why?” she whispered.
His intense gaze captured hers. “Because they hurt you.”
Her breath strangled in her chest. Intensity burned on his features, his generous mouth was set in a grim line. Everything about them slowed, until all she could see was him. Her heart pounded in her ears, her chest tight, and a shiver went through her, her breasts tingling. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she wet her lips. His eyes flared, his fingers twitching as if he wanted…as if he were going to…
In the distance, a clock struck a new hour, and the world returned in a rush, the strange spell between them broken.
“I should join the ladies,” she managed.
“Yes,” he rasped. Ducking her head, she passed him by, her heart still in her throat. She did not dare risk looking behind her, for if she did, she might undertake what her lust-drunk mind wanted to haul him into her arms.
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