Page 46 of Grasp the Thorn
That did the trick. Up went her chin, and her lips set before she counter attacked. “Mr Gavenor, I…”
She had every right to heap recriminations on his head, but he couldn’t bear to hear her call him ‘Mr.’ as if they had not become friends through their letters. As she paused for a breath, he broke in, “I deserve you should be so formal. I wasn’t here when you needed me. I jumped to assumptions when I did come home.”
“Mr Redding was not…”
“I know. I knew almost immediately.” She had not stepped away from him, and the anxious lines were smoothing. He took advantage of her proximity by capturing one small hand in both of his. “I know that I owe you a grovelling apology, and you shall have it, but first I want to tell you I will support whatever you want. For your aunt. Tell the vicar your requirements for the funeral and I will make sure it happens.”
“Mr Ga—”
He raised her hand to press a kiss on it and she blushed.
“Hugh… You don’t understand. I don’t deserve…”
He unfurled her fingers and pressed another kiss into her palm. “You deserve every good thing, and have been left to carry your burdens alone for too long. Let me help, Rosa. It is my duty and my delight. Come. We cannot leave Mr Snaith alone much longer or he will take to his heels.”
The vicar insisted that Mrs Clifford had died a sinner. “If she did,” Bear pointed out, “then so did the Marquess of Raithby, and he was buried with full honours from St Georges.”
“If she did,” Rosa added, “you must accept part of the blame, since you refused to bring spiritual comfort to my aunt when I sent for you.”
They negotiated a plot near Rosie Neatham’s, in the far corner of the churchyard, and a funeral service two mornings hence, at an unfashionable time of day, which Snaith clearly thought might save him from the village’s censure.
At last, Rosa and Bear were alone. Now is the time for that grovelling apology. Before Bear could find the right words, Rosa spoke. “Hugh, I need to tell you…” her voice trailed off. Bear was not the only one struggling to put feelings into words. Perhaps they should leave this discussion until tomorrow, until she had caught up on some sleep.
He put out a gentle finger to trace the blue marks under her eyes. “You need to rest. When did you last have a solid night’s sleep?”
Rosa stamped her foot. Hugh suppressed a grin. She would not appreciate it, his little thorny fairy.
“Hugh, you must listen to me.” A defiant lift of her chin, which looked eminently kissable. “It is true. What the villagers said? About my aunt really being my mother? It is true. So, you see, I am not a fit woman to be your wife.” So that was the maggot in her head. Moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes before she veiled them with her lashes, looking down at the hand he had recaptured. “I am sorry, Hugh. Are divorces very expensive?”
“Very. Do you want a divorce?” He pulled her a little closer so he could kiss her brow. “I know I have been an abysmal husband, but I promise I will do better. I have been taking lessons from a married friend. I forgot them for a moment the other day. But I remember now.”
Rosa lifted her face to give him access to her eyes and her cheeks. “You are not paying attention. I am the daughter of a fallen woman. I have been living a lie all my life. Aunt Belle sent me to her sister and her husband to raise as their own.”
“Yes. That is what I guessed. Does it upset you, Rosa? It doesn’t worry me. According to my friend Lion, your mother did the best she could with the circumstances in which she found herself. Your aunt, I should say. Your Aunt Belle may have birthed you, but the Neathams were your mother and father.”
Rosa evaded his lips to ask, “Do you not mind? That a notorious courtesan gave birth to me?”
Bear, encouraged by her lack of resistance to his advances, cupped her face in his large hands and looked deep into her eyes. “I don’t know what drove her to that life. I do know that you are kind, and good, and gentle, and that I am not fit to clean your shoes. But I am lucky enough to have you for my wife, and I shall spend a lifetime making sure you feel lucky, too.” He lowered his lips, and this time she rose on her toes to meet him.
CHAPTER 31
Sometime later, Rosa, now seated on Bear’s lap and considerably flushed and rumpled, said, “Pelman.”
“He won’t bother you again.”
“Not him,” Rosa said. “His father. Pelman senior drove my aunt to that life, when he courted her in secret and then became betrothed to her cousin.”
“Like father, like son! Don’t tell me Pelman senior was your father.” The previous baron had thought Rosa his great niece, but only Mrs Clifford would know for certain.
Rosa drew away from him, wrinkling her nose as if at a foul odour. “No! No, that is a disgusting thought. Surely, he would draw the line at seducing a possible sister? The current Lord Hurley did, in any case, when he came to hear the will read. He avoided me, and left almost immediately, so I suppose my Lord Hurley let out the secret in his will, and Aunt Belle confirmed it. Matthew Hurley, my baron’s nephew, ran off with my aunt after Pelman ruined her.”
“The will left Rose Cottage to you and your father. Yes, and a lump sum to invest. Hurley told me. He and Pelman conspired to cheat you, but I have the deed to the cottage. Not the lump sum, I’m sorry. Hurley is in the suds.” The idiot, addicted to gambling, had lost everything, including the price Bear had paid for Thorne Hall. A distraint on his remaining property would fetch them very little, but at least Rosa’s name on the deed for Rose Cottage had kept it from being lost with the rest.
“Rose Cottage is ours?” This time, Rosa initiated the kiss, and by the time it ended, Bear had her bare to the waist.
“We had better stop now, my dear wife. I do not mean to press for your favours until you are ready.”
“I am no longer wincing when I sit,” Rosa pointed out. “Will you come up to bed with me, Hugh? I so want to find out the ‘more.’”
