Page 37 of Wicked Rivals
“Of course. They are my responsibility.”
She bit her lip. “Both houses burned down the same night? Were they next to each other?”
“Different properties, but nearby.”
“That sounds like it was not a coincidence.”
His eyes narrowed, and his gaze turned distant. “Yes, I suspect someone orchestrated the event.”
“Does this have anything to do with what led to you being shot last Christmas?”
That was something she would not soon forget. When she’d first met him, one of his arms had been in a sling. She’d gotten him to admit that he’d been shot at a brothel. To her surprise it had not been while sampling the pleasures of the ladies, but rather investigating rumors of an assassination attempt on his friend’s life.
“I’m not sure, but I shan’t let my guard down. So, will you consult with me on the house plans?”
She bit her bottom lip as she thought it over. “I suppose I could.”
“Excellent. Are you ready for breakfast? I’m famished after last night.” He gave her a roguish wink. Before she could stop herself, she was smiling, but she hastily forced her lips into a scowl.
“You’re trying to embarrass me in front of Claire,” she hissed in accusation as she joined him at the door.
He was still grinning as he offered her his arm. “I do admit to a sense of exhilaration in the art of provoking you.”
This side of him caught her off guard. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined the cool, collected man to be so…playful.
She let him escort her downstairs to the dining room. Just because he wasn’t always acting the gentleman did not mean she would stop acting like a lady.
The dining room was a lovely space with walnut-paneled walls and a host of family portraits. Two long sets of windows overlooked a garden full of roses, forsythia and a dozen other colorful plants. The sunlight bathed the room in a cheery haze of soft light that made Rosalind feel at home. The castle she’d grown up in did not have such luxuries. It was dank and dreary by comparison, a holdover of long-forgotten glories.
“Do you like it?” Ashton asked.
“Yes, very much. I was thinking of how different this is from my childhood home. My late husband’s townhouse is lovely, but I’ve always preferred the country. It reminds me of Scotland.”
Ashton escorted her to a chair and seated her, then began to prepare her a plate without even asking. Rather than be upset, she enjoyed the thought of him doing something so polite. It should have seemed out of character for him, given her experiences with him, but it didn’t.
He’d only just set his plate down when two other men burst into the room, laughing and talking. She recognized the golden-haired, rakish and handsome Earl of Lonsdale immediately. TheQuizzing Glass Gazettehad once claimed that he’d bedded thirty women in one night during a lavish party in Covent Garden. It had to be a rumor because she’d heard that men tended to fall asleep after just one encounter. There was no way he could have survived thirty.
She eyed Charles as he flashed a winning smile. He had a muscled physique much like Ashton’s. Perhaps some mencouldgo all night…
“Good morning, Lady Melbourne. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. Ash, come over and see to the introductions.” Charles nudged the second man as he beamed at Rosalind.
Ashton came to stand beside her. “Rosalind, this is Charles Humphrey, the Earl of Lonsdale, and this,” he said as he nodded at the second man, “is Jonathan St. Laurent, brother to the Duke of Essex.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Jonathan bent in a courtly manner over her hand and kissed it. Charles did the same, but with a glint in his eyes that made Rosalind nervous.
“I have heard of you both,” she said, challenging Charles with a smirk of her own.
“Only wicked things, I hope,” Charles said with a chuckle. “Sadly, only half the stories I hear about myself of late are true. Except the one about the swans—that’s most definitely true.”
Rosalind had no idea what he was talking about. “Swans?”
Ashton cut Charles off with a cough.
“Right,” Jonathan covered smoothly. “How are you feeling, Lady Melbourne? You suffered a great ordeal last night. I trust you have had some rest?”
“Yes, thank you, Mr. St. Laurent.”
“Please, call me Jonathan or Jon.” His smile was more warm and friendly than Rosalind had expected of someone who was friends with Ashton. He was so calm and cool, and she expected his friends to be equally so.
