Page 24 of Marry in Secret
“Fight?” Ashendon made a scornful sound. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
Thomas gave Ashendon a level look. “I haven’t yet begun to fight.”
“Well, I’ll fight to ensure that she’s free to choose her own husband.”
“She’s already chosen. She chose me.”
“It’s my job as head of Rose’s family to protect her and—”
“I’m Rose’s husband. I will decide what’s best for her.”
“I’ve only been a member of this family for a short time,” Galbraith interrupted, “but one thing I’ve learned is that Rutherford ladies don’t take kindly to being told what they can and can’t do. Shall we go to Ashendon House and let Rose speak forherself?”
Chapter Four
Know your own happiness. Want for nothing but patience—or give it a more fascinating name: Call it hope.
—JANE AUSTEN,SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
The dog heard them arrive first, pricking his ears and then scrambling to his feet, facing the door with an expectant expression and a gently wagging tail. Then came the rumble of deep voices and the sound of crisp masculine footsteps.
The men had arrived. Finally.
All conversation died. Every face turned toward the door.
Rose had, quite unconsciously, been pleating the fabric of her dress between nerveless fingers. She looked down at the crushed fabric and tried to smooth it with her hands. It was one thing to change out of the dress she’d put on to marry another man; it was quite another to greet this one wearing a badly crumpled gown.
Oh, what did it matter? He was here. Thomas was here. Any moment now he would step through that door.
She still didn’t know what she was going to say to him. Or even how she felt. She was as skittish as a kitten. And possibly even... shy?
Which was ridiculous. She was the boldest of theRutherford girls—everybody said so. She was never shy, never nervous.
She never fainted either, except that today she’d fainted—in church, of all places.
And she never let Aunt Agatha intimidate her, and yet earlier she’d allowed her to rant on for what seemed like hours.
The door opened. “Ah, here you all are,” Cal said.
Rose swallowed. Her heart was thudding so hard it was a wonder the others couldn’t hear it.
“What took you so long?” Emm asked. “I thought you’d be here ages ago.”
Cal jerked his head at Thomas. “Beresford wanted a bath.” He sat on the arm of Emm’s chair, snagged a sandwich and munched it down in two bites.
Ned entered and seated himself next to Lily.
But nobody took any notice of them. All eyes were on Thomas, who’d just stepped into the room.
And what a sight he was. Tall and freshly shaven, with his dark hair cut short in a brutally masculine crop, he looked...Beautiful,Rose thought. A crisp white shirt emphasized his deep tan and, unfashionable as that was, it highlighted the blazing intensity of his silvery blue eyes.
They burned into her, those eyes. For a moment it felt as though there was no one else in the room, just Rose and Thomas. Thomas and Rose.
“Oh, my,” Aunt Dottie murmured. “Doesn’t he clean up a treat?”
Rose breathed again. He did, oh, indeed he did. He was wearing a neatly knotted neckcloth, a plain dark waistcoat and fawn breeches tucked into gleaming black boots. A tightly fitting coat in dark blue emphasized a pair of powerful shoulders, muscular arms and a deep chest.
He stood, surveying the inhabitants of the room with unconscious arrogance. As if commanding the deck of a ship. Or facing a firing squad.
