Page 78 of Miss Dramatic
“Why are women always cast as temptation’s minions?” Rose left the alcove, and Gavin came with her. “You fellows can give a good account of yourselves in that department when you’re of a mind to.”
“Consider my inspiration.”
He was in the most devilish mood, while Rose felt weepy and uncertain. Widow-ish, and that would not doat all.
“I have the last of my packing to do,” she said as they approached the door of her apartment. “You will see me off?”
“Though it will break my heart, I will of course see you off. My sister would go very spare with me if I were to turn up dunderheaded at this stage. She wasn’t trying to marry me off, you know.”
“The marquess and Lord Phillip were certainly investigating that possibility.”
“They are good, simple fellows. Marriage has filled their respective cups with joy. I was not thriving here in Crosspatch. Ergo, I would benefit from a wife. As it happens, I agree with them, provided that wife is you.”
Logical romance. What had the world come to? “Will you go to Bristol?”
“Not for some time. I, too, have a harvest to oversee, and Drysdale and the Merchants will sort themselves out more easily if I’m not making an inspection tour on behalf of Lady Phillip’s investors.”
Rose wrapped her arms around Gavin’s waist and leaned against him. “I hate the word ‘harvest.’”
“No, you don’t. You excel at managing Colforth Hall, and you enjoy it. I excel at the theater, and I enjoy it. You insist I investigate those possibilities, and I insist you delight in running the whole business down in Hampshire.”
Rose straightened. “I do enjoy it. Colforth Hall has sound bones. The tenants are hardworking and conscientious and the land good and generous. You will come see me?”
“Thirty days hence. I promise, and I keep my promises, Rose.”
Gavin was not Dane. Rose would likely be reminding herself of that eternal verity for some time, hopefully with less and less frequency.
She took his hand, lifted the door latch, and drew him through the sitting room into the bedroom. They had time for other and further expressions of a fond farewell, if they—
“Timmens.” Rose’s maid was at the jewelry box. A large trunk sat open at the foot of the bed, Rose’s black shawl folded neatly atop the contents. “I thought you’d be down in the Hall making your good-byes.”
“Most has already gone,” Timmens said. “That lot out from Town wasn’t very friendly anyway. Putting on airs, talking posh.”
“You are from London,” Rose said.
“I’m from Hampshire now, ain’t I? P’raps Mr. DeWitt could summon us some footmen to haul this trunk down to the coach?”
Gavin walked around the open trunk to prop a hip against the windowsill. If he was appalled by Timmens’s bit of cheek, he gave no sign of it, but Rose wasn’t in the mood for her maid’s uppish crotchets.
“If there are footmen to be fetched,” Rose said, “you will fetch them. I don’t suppose you’ve found my bracelet?” The wretched thing had gone missing at some point before the final formal dinner. Rose might have suspected Drysdale, except that Gemma would have murdered him in his sleep for even considering the notion.
“That clasp was none too reliable,” Timmens said. “The marchioness will probably find the bracelet in some coal bucket, mark my words, madam. I’ll just be off to find those footmen.” She popped a curtsey at Gavin that had something of rudeness to it and flounced through the bedroom door.
“A moment,” Gavin said. “Timmens, you can set my mind at ease regarding one bit of old business.”
She turned in the doorway. “Sir?”
“You were with Mrs. Roberts in Derbyshire.”
Timmens’s chin came up. “I been with Missus for better than five years. She doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
“And Mrs. Roberts tells me that she also trusts you in matters of petty cash. You paid the vails in Derbyshire?”
Whatever he was on about, Rose knew that measured tone, that gentlemanly reserve. Gavin was in deadly earnest, regardless of his objective.
“How can I recall back that far?” Timmens said. “That was ages ago, and what do a few pence here and there matter when some flighty actor is putting Missus’s reputation at risk?”
“What about a few pounds?” Gavin said evenly. “What can you recall about many pounds left in Mrs. Roberts’s jewelry box?”
