Page 25 of Undercover with the Heiress
‘We’ve lived beside one another for years, yet it seems that until recently, we didn’t really know one another at all…’ Rosanna’s voice trailed off as she watched him work. All this time, she’d lived next to a man who carried out small, unacknowledged kindnesses like investing in Iris’s business and helping Arley and Vivienne… even feeding the cat. All while grumping at and baiting her father. Rather than bland, he was a conundrum.
‘I meant, what did you think aboutit?’ Mrs Redgrave leant in close, her champagne-soaked breath rolling in a slurred whisper.
‘It?’ Rosanna asked.
‘You know.It. The one-eyed snake. The shifty pirate.’ Mrs Redgrave squinted one eye, wiggled her head a little, then sniggered before taking another gulp of champagne. ‘Hisappendage. Did it horrify you? My mother hadn’t told me whatto expect, and I was completely bewildered when I dared to finally open my eyes in my marital bed.’
Rosanna fidgeted with discomfort at the memory of Phineas stripped to his waist, of the little stray droplet of water that caressed the lean lines of his chest. She had not been raised in an ignorant household—she was the eldest of ten children, after all. Her parents were pragmatic about such information, especially when it came to their daughters. But her knowledge of married life was exceedingly theoretical, consisting of anatomical descriptions and a lesson on the creation of babies. She understood what went where, and how a life began, but beyond that… What would the experience entail? Pleasure or horror? Would Phineas, all hard edges and rough skin, reveal all his secrets to her and treat her tenderly? Would he take care with an intimate education as he pressed his firm body against her? Or would he be rough and roguish and use her as it pleased him?
Heat crept along her neck. ‘I… I… Uhm… He’s very… and I was…’
Mrs Vincent laughed. ‘Leave her be. Mrs Redgrave is too brash. Look at her, still in the flush of early marriage. She’s likely still lying stiff, knees akimbo, counting down until it’s over.’
‘Counting?’ Rosanna asked. No one had ever mentioned mathematics being involved.
‘Try it.’ Mrs Redgrave took up her flute and chuckled. ‘I can’t imagine intimacies with a clerk are overly inventive.’
‘Should he be inventive, or should I be?’ Her face burned hot, and warm needles ran along her back. All three of the ladies at the table laughed, loud and unabashed. This was worse than being scandalised. Theypitiedher.
‘We all thought you were going to make an agreement with the Marquess of Hanley’s son,’ Mrs Redgrave said through the last of her laughter. ‘Such a lovely young man. Here he is now. LordRichard!’ Mrs Vincent half stood and waved across the room. ‘Join us.’
Thoughts of bodies, thoughts of married life, thoughts of anything else evaporated. Rosanna’s next breath shuddered through her as Lord Richard exchanged the usual etiquette across the table, then occupied the vacant chair beside her. Pleasantries and small talk bounced and hummed through the air, and Mrs Redgrave downed the last of her champagne. Rosanna could only try to breathe.
‘Mrs Babbage. It is Mrs Babbage now, isn’t it? How pleasant to see you.’ Lord Richard balanced his hat on his knee and twisted in his seat. He spoke with the same intimacy, the same comfort and companionship as he had the night when they’d walked through the park. When he had told her she was interesting and that he thought her family charming, when he had squeezed her fingers with one hand and reached into his pocket with the other. When her life had been dazzling and bright and her own.
Lord Richard placed a small white box tied with a pink ribbon onto the table before her. ‘I was going to leave this for you at the desk. I suppose you should think of it as a wedding gift.’
Rosanna stared at the little box. What would it be? Another flower or an animal or something surprising, like a dragon or a gondola? A kitten or a pair of scissors? How she longed to pick it up. To tug the ribbon, remove the lid, and feel the delight of being a young woman with a future opening before her. To feel fresh and new and fawned over. As she reached for the box, her wedding band glinted, and her fingers trembled.
Those days had been a lie. He had not helped her when she’d needed him. Phineas had.
Rosanna tucked her hands into her lap. ‘I am a married woman. I cannot wear jewellery gifted from a man who isn’t my husband.’
‘I hoped that maybe we might remain friends.’ He leant in a little closer, and his hand brushed against her knee, then withdrew, like it was an accident. He lowered his voice. ‘Or perhaps, something more? Despite the injury you made against me, I do think of you fondly.’
‘Against you? You left me,’ she accused. At the park, with him running, she’d been vulnerable and weak—what she hated most. Like some damsel who had to be rescued, and not by a prince but by the grumpy clerk next door. When she spoke, her voice cracked, and the sting of his rejection filtered through, bitter and too loud for polite society. ‘You justran. Everyone thought I had been compromised. I had no choice but to marry.’
‘I tried to contact you. Did you not receive my letter?’
‘I didn’t want a letter. I wanted you to call on me!’ All her indignation at being made a laughing stock, at having her dreams snatched away, cascaded through her. ‘I needed helpthen. That man hit me, and Mrs Crofts and her society were all pointing at me.’
‘Mrs Babbage. There’s a message for you at the desk.’
Rosanna kept her stare straight ahead as she tried to tamp down her frustration and her fury. ‘It can wait.’
Phineas maintained his blank expression, but fury blazed in his eyes. ‘It’s from your husband.’
Rosanna shook her head. ‘I will collect it later.’
‘The messenger wasmostinsistent.’ Phineas’s jaw clenched. ‘You absolutely must come to the desk and read it.’
Rosanna flung her serviette onto the table. ‘Fine. Let me see this message.’
Once out of view of the dining room, Phineas grasped her arm and tugged her down the service hallway leading to the laundry and drying rooms. With an irritated shove, he pushed her into an alcove. Rosanna spun and pressed her back to the decorativeglass panel. Phineas’s normally stoic expression had turned dark with fury. ‘What was that?’
‘He blamed me for everything. Said I slighted him when he was the one who ran off! That no-good, lying—’
‘What about Mrs Vincent? What did you learn?’
