Page 67 of Wicked Rivals
“I don’t see how. The bloody oaf took up most of the bed and left little room for me.” And she’d been forced to curl into his body, which meant he’d wrapped an arm around her all night.Damned infuriating…wonderful man…With an angry little growl, she scrubbed a bar of soap over her skin.
“I suppose it goes back to the old days,” Claire mused as she hung up the dressing robe on a peg by the door.
Rosalind rubbed the lather of the soap over her body. “What do you mean?” The scent hit her, the masculine aroma. Ashton’s. Fresh memories from last night swept through her and she dropped the soap, splashing water out of the tub. She slicked her hair back and then dug around the bottom of the tub to find the slippery thing.
“A woman likes to know she will be safe, that someone will protect her. Hate him or love him, Lord Lennox is very much a man to protect what is his. Last night you became his, and deep down, you know he will care for you, Your Ladyship. That is why you slept so well.”
“How did you know about what happened last night? The marriage, I mean.”
Claire shrugged. “Servants always learn about these things first. Whispers are like wildfires in the corridors of any great house.”
“So the entirehouseknows we are to be married.” The thought of everyone knowing her shameful situation gave her a dull throb behind her eyes.
“Yes, but…” Claire paused. “The staff seem fascinated by the thought of their master marrying. They say he’s never shown lasting interest in a lady before, at least not with a mind to marriage, and according to the upstairs maids, he has never had a woman visit Lennox House.”
“I wasn’t exactly invited,” Rosalind reminded her. She washed her hair and glanced around for a towel. Her maid held one out.
“Well?” Claire asked.
“Well what?” Her response came out a tad harsher than she intended, but the idea of everyone knowing the intimate details of her private life had proved upsetting.
“Is it true that he is showing you favor?”
A derisive snort escaped Rosalind. “If by favor you mean to blackmail me, cause me to wager my future on a game of chess, deceive me about his skill at the game, and seduce me into bed with bloody good kisses, then yes, I’m a favorite of his.”
Claire was biting her lip to keep from laughing.
“What?” Rosalind snapped.
“Bloody good kisses? Oh dear, Your Ladyship, we mustn’t letthathappen again.” Amusement honeyed Claire’s sarcastic tone.
“It’s not funny!”
“Of course it is, Your Ladyship. He sounds like quite a man, and you’re fighting the fact that you like him.” Claire giggled.
“I do not!” Rosalind started to laugh, despite her best attempts not to. She was fighting the fact that Claire was right.
Claire smiled. “You’ll win him over. I would guess he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand in a fortnight.”
Calming down, Rosalind finished drying her hair with a cloth and went back into Ashton’s bedchamber. She found the light rose Jaconet muslin gown her maid had selected draped over one of the chairs, along with white stockings embroidered at the ankles with spring buds. A sky-blue shawl, white gloves and half boots in the same color finished her outfit. It would be elegant, yet show her figure to advantage. Claire had chosen well. If she was to suffer through this marriage business, she might as well look pretty.
“No bonnet?” Rosalind sat in a chair to pull the stockings on.
“Heavens no. It would be a shame to hide your face away on a day like today.”
Rosalind dressed quickly and let Claire style her hair in loose ringlets with a threading of blue silk in a band around her head in Grecian fashion.
“They’ll be dining at a late luncheon, if you’re ready,” Claire added as Rosalind headed for the door.
The dining room was empty save for two people, Charles and Rafe. When Rosalind saw them, she halted in the doorway.
“I hear congratulations are in order.” Rafe raised a glass of juice in her direction, then winced, touching his arm. The arm she knew she’d shot when he’d robbed her coach.
Quelling the rush of her temper, she walked over to take a chair beside him and then, without any warning, punched his concealed wound.
Rafe howled, leaning away from her, his blue eyes flashing with ice. “Bloody Christ!”
“You assured me he was a subpar chess player. Youlied.”
