Page 36 of Wicked Rivals
She called after him, “I’m still not agreeing to anything else beyond our arrangement!”
Ashton paused in the doorway. “And I’m still giving you a week to change your mind.” Before she could reply, he was gone.
Lowell cleared his throat. “Do you wish me to leave, Your Ladyship? I usually tidy up now, but if you need to…” His face turned a ruddy color.
“Oh, I’m sorry…Mr. Lowell, is it? If you could bring Claire to me, I shall be out of your way shortly.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship.” Lowell hastily departed, and Rosalind climbed out of bed, wincing as a number of muscles twinged in protest. Her feet were still blistered and her back still sore from the grain sacks. Her arms ached from an evening of carrying dishes. Walking through the pain, she rushed to the dressing room to see to her needs before Lowell returned with her maid.
When she returned to the bedchamber, Claire had already placed Rosalind’s valise on the bed and was muttering to herself as she shuffled through the clothes.
“Your Ladyship!” She rushed over to embrace Rosalind. The intimate gesture was not at all appropriate, but after what they’d been through, it came as a relief.
“Are you well? What happened? Why did you leave me at the inn?” The flurry of questions made Rosalind’s head throb.
“I’m fine, Claire, truly. I’ll explain everything.”
As her maid ran a bath and began sorting through her travel case, Rosalind narrated the entirety of the night’s events, though she left out the more intimate moments with Ashton. There was no need to have Claire thinking she wasactuallygoing to marry the man.
“So you are to remain here then? In His Lordship’s chambers?” Claire’s keen eyes took in the understated elegance of the room. Noting something off, she pointed suddenly. “What are those for?”
“What?” Rosalind looked to where her maid was gesturing, over the bed. They came closer. Over the headboard hung a rather curious drapery. Rosalind climbed onto the bed, giving the curtain a little tug. The fabric fell away to reveal a large, ornate gilt mirror. It hung out from the wall at an odd angle.
“That’s strange. What do you suppose…?”
She covered it up, not wanting to pry, but still curious about what such a mirror could be used for. Then again, Ashton was full of mysteries. She’d have to add this to an ever growing list of things she wanted to know about him. But that would have to wait. She took a hasty bath, mindful that at any moment Ashton could return.
Her maid beckoned to a chair. “Come and sit. I’ll see what I can manage with your hair.”
Claire was putting on the finishing touches when Ashton returned. He halted mid-step, and she watched him in the reflection of the tall mirror. For a moment she swore there had been warmth in those eyes.
Perhaps I’m only imagining what I wish to see.
“Rose is a fetching color on you.” He came over, walking a half circle around her, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. “Yes, that color is magnificent.”
Rosalind frowned. She didn’t like how he behaved, as though her appearance required his approval. As though heownedher.
“Claire, find my green gown,” Rosalind said. “I shall change—”
“No!” Ashton cut her off, not sharply, but firmly. “Don’t be silly, Rosalind. Claire has better things to do than change your clothes simply because you wish to be contrary to me.”
She arched a brow. “It is not my goal to please you. If I wish to change, I may change.”
His eyes twinkled. “I agree. You have every right to change clothes. However, a woman of your intellect has far better uses for her time than figuring out how to rebel against me with petty wardrobe changes. I’d much rather put your mind to a better task. I have architectural plans for my new tenant farmhouses, and I should like to consult you on them.”
“Consult with me?”
Ashton tugged on his waistcoat. “Shipbuilding is a bit like house building, and we’ve both had a fair amount of experience with that. I’d like your opinion on whether the proposed layouts are suitable. Besides, Mother would be delighted to see us interacting on something like this. It would help convince her I’m serious about you.”
“What’s wrong with the houses?” she asked, eager to divert her attention to something else.
“They were burned to the ground two days ago. I am eager to rebuild them because the families who lived there are out of house and home.”
“Oh no. Where are they staying?”
“They are currently in my spare servants’ quarters until I can see to the new houses.”
“The families are here?” She couldn’t picture Ashton opening his home to simple farm folk. It was too…kindof him, and in her dealings with him she knew Ashton was not a kind man. Cunning, calculating, respectful of his obligations, perhaps, but not kind.
