Page 81 of Miss Dramatic
“That is not our Roland,” Rose said, making short work of the terrace stairs. “What have you done with your horse, Gavin?”
She wrapped her arms around him, and all equine thoughts flew from Gavin’s mind. “I’ve missed you so, Rose Roberts. Missed you until I ache with it.” He followed up that ringing statement of the obvious with a protracted kiss, and devil take any gawking neighbors, servants, horses, or grooms.
Rose stepped back all too soon. “I’ve missed you too, sir. Has my nose flattened for being pressed against the glass watching for your arrival?” She touched the tip of her proboscis and smiled up at him.
“You are lovelier than ever. All of Crosspatch Corners sends their regards and hopes you’ll visit again soon.” The lectures from their rubbishing lordships had been endless. “I carry letters from Diana and Caroline and standing invitations from the marchioness and my mother.”
“My correspondence has exploded since I was in Berkshire,” Rose said as a groom approached from the downwind side of the house. A stand of maples obscured what was doubtless a sizable stable and heaven only knew how many other outbuildings.
“As has mine. A certain loquacious coachman got to expounding about Roland’s speed all up and down the London road. Roland has acquitted himself splendidly in his opening meets. He’s being called the Second Eclipse, but more to the point, our boy is having a grand time.” Also earning much more than the predicted tidy packet, bless him.
Half the proceeds had gone to investing in the Players, the other half to Lady Phillip’s sailors’ homes.
“Be warned,” Rose said, linking arms with Gavin, “I intend to have a grand time with you. I have missed you dreadfully.”
Gavin mounted the steps beside her and paused before the front door. “I’m not here to frolic, Rose.”
She looked him up and down, and Gavin could see the joy in her eyes dim. “Explain yourself.”
He had planned to have this discussion after some pleasantries, a meal, perhaps a tour of the Hall, but that would all be so much dithering.
“I want to marry you, but you gave me a challenge to complete before my hopes in that regard can be raised. I was to reconcile my love of the theater with my responsibility to my family and my love for you. I’d like you to read something before we…”
“Don’t frolic?”
“Before we decide the nature of my call.”
Rose put a hand on the door latch. “You’re sure we’re not to frolic? That was a very frolicsome kiss we just shared in view of God, the countryside, and half my staff.”
“I’m sure that I’d like you to read what I’ve brought for you, and beyond that, I cannot think.”
The door swung open to reveal a youngish, blond butler. “Madam. I’ve put a tray of lemonade and comestibles in the family parlor for you and Mr. DeWitt.”
The garrison had clearly been on high alert.
“Thank you, Platz. Please inform the laundry that a bath might be needed in an hour or so.”
“Very good, madam. Sir, your hat?”
Gavin handed over hat and spurs and asked that his saddlebags be brought to the family parlor. Platz bowed without batting an eye at that odd request.
Rose escorted Gavin to an airy, high-ceilinged sitting room that managed to be both elegant and inviting. The ceiling fresco was all winged creatures and fluffy clouds. The walls were hung in pale green silk. The bouquet on the sideboard included delphiniums the color of Rose’s eyes and trailing vines of sweet pea.
The vista beyond the open French doors included old-fashioned formal parterres and a shaded walk along an ornamental lake.
“Your home is absolutely lovely, Rose.”
“I’ve always thought so, but the place was going to seed when I arrived. Putting the house to rights became a cause with me.”
“Because you were trying to please your husband?” How many hurts had Dane Roberts done to his wife, hurts the man would never atone for?
“At first, yes. If I could just make Colforth pretty enough, grand enough, cheerful enough… but several years of diligent effort proved my theory ridiculous. From that point on, I made the house comfortable enough, pretty enough, and well run enoughfor me. You miss Roland, don’t you?”
What an odd, insightful question. “Yes, but he’s as happy as a hog in slop galloping his competition to flinders. The village swears Mr. Dabney is two inches taller as a result of Roland’s successes.”
“But your day no longer starts with thrilling gallops, and you can’t philosophize to your steed on quiet afternoon hacks. What have you been doing with yourself, Gavin?”
A footman bearing a pair of dusty saddlebags appeared in the open door.
