Page 11 of A Wild English Rose
Cecily raised an eyebrow as she took a seat at the table and looked at the flowers.
“You shouldn’t have,” she said.
Thomas met her gaze. “I didn’t. My parents and I stay at this hotel on our regular trips up and back from London. The landlord has clearly taken to you and wants to wish the future Viscountess Rosemount every happiness on her recent marriage.”
A smile came to her lips as she picked up the bouquet of pink, purple and white sweet peas, burying her nose into the pale delicate flowers. “They are beautiful. No one has ever given me flowers before,” she said.
The landlord appeared with a bottle of champagne in his hand. Thomas quickly rose from his seat and managed to stop him before he had removed the cork.
“Thank you so much; you don’t have to give us champagne. The flowers were a generous gift,” he said.
The landlord looked crestfallen.
“It is a little early in the morning for us to be imbibing. We still have a few miles to go today,” said Cecily, coming to the rescue.
“Oh course,” replied the landlord. He handed the bottle to Thomas, who was left with no choice but to take it. “Please enjoy it when you reach home. And, on behalf of my wife and myself, may I offer you both the heartiest of congratulations on your marriage. I expect Lord and Lady Rosemount are delighted.”
When they were finally alone once more, Thomas set the champagne bottle down on the table. His plans for a quiet escape with Cecily to Rosemount Abbey were beginning to fray at the edges. It wouldn’t be long before everyone who passed through Huntingdon and stayed at the George Hotel would know that Thomas Rosemount had taken himself a wife.
“Finish up your breakfast quickly, Cecily. We need to be on the road as soon as possible,” he said.
“Yes, husband,” she replied with a smile.
Chapter Eleven
Cecily had experienced a lifetime of arriving at new places. Her parents were forever moving her on when they felt it necessary. Yet as the coach came down the long driveway which led to Rosemount Abbey, she felt a bubble of excitement swell up inside her.
Out the window, she could see green pastures which seemed to stretch for miles. In the nearest meadow, horses grazed. A young foal suckled at its mother. It was the perfect equine setting.
“That is the lower meadow. We tend to keep the younger mares who have just had their first foals in there. That way they are close to the main stables in the event of a storm or the foal suddenly taking ill,” said Thomas.
Tears glistened in her eyes. Memories of the happy days she had spent in Ireland came flooding back, threatening to overwhelm her.
A comforting hand was placed on her arm. “Are you alright, Cecily?”
“Yes. I had forgotten how beautiful the English countryside could be. My parents have kept me in London since my return from Ireland,” she replied.
London had been a whirlwind of endless parties, entertainment, and shopping—everything a young woman such as she could want. She was not foolish enough to ignore the fact that the city had stolen a piece of her soul, yet her first glimpse of Rosemount Abbey had her yearning for something else. A deeper connection with the world.
For the rest of the short journey up the drive, Cecily kept her gaze fixed on the view which rolled by out the coach window. The meadows slowly made way for more orderly fenced areas and buildings. When the coach made a looping left turn, she caught her first glimpse of the main house.
A magnificent Elizabethan mansion sat atop of a small rise at the end of the drive. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the sight. With towering turrets and a huge ornately carved arch over the main entrance, it was like something out of a fairy-tale.
Thomas chuckled. “It’s a bit to take in all at once, but it’s home.”
She turned to him, her heart full of emotion. “I can see why you prefer to be here than in London. If this was my home, I would never want to leave.”
The smile disappeared from his face, replaced with a look she could not put a name to. Wariness would have been the closest if she had been forced to choose.
As the coach drew up to the front of the house, servants came hurrying out to greet them.
Thomas helped Cecily down and she stood waiting while he summoned a footman. “Please take Lady Cecily’s bag up to the main guestroom. The one we use for my father’s sister when she visits.”
“I hope you like your aunt, or have I just been given the room with no windows?” she said.
“My aunt and father are very close; we reserve the best room for her. As you are my special guest, I want you to have that room,” he replied.
She turned away in the fevered hope that he would not see the heat which she felt burning on her cheeks. Thomas stirred things inside her which she was powerless to control.
