Page 1 of A Wild English Rose
Chapter One
Lord Thomas Rosemount downed the last of his glass of wine and headed for the terrace doors. The party was a crush of heated bodies, all pressed too close for his liking.
He managed to offload his empty glass and replace it with another full one before stepping out into the cool night air. June was the worst time to be in London. The weather was warm, and all of thetonwere still in town for the dreaded social season.
Dreaded, because every mother with an unwed daughter was out to catch the eye of an eligible bachelor such as himself. He had already fought off two insistent matrons that evening, only managing to escape after solemnly promising to dance with their accomplished and well-bred daughters.
As the night air kissed his cheeks, he took a deep breath. Accomplished though the young ladies may be, he doubted either of them could tell one end of a horse from the other—let alone understand the intricacies of breeding bloodlines.
His hope for a future wife with at least some understanding of the equine world was a faint one. He knew the best he should wish for was a woman who could stay seated in the saddle.
He moved away from the other guests who were also seeking respite in the cool air of the garden and wandered toward a dark secluded spot. Refuge from people beckoned.
“Ah, the bliss of the night,” he muttered.
Lifting his glass, he was surprised to find it suddenly flying through the air away from him. At the same time, he fell to the ground.
“What the devil?” he cried as he landed heavily on his knees.
Pain shot through his left leg, and he rolled over onto his back. His head met with the soft form of a body.
“Get off me, you great big lump!” a female voice cried.
In the dark, Thomas had failed to see the woman and fallen clean over her. He sat up, still holding onto his injured leg. “What on earth were you doing down here in the dark?”
“I waash trying to cassht up my accounts in private, before yoo decided to land on top of me,” she slurred, then hiccupped loudly.
Whoever the woman was, she was completely foxed. Thomas struggled to his feet, his injured knee threatening to buckle under him.
“I am sorry. I didn’t see you. Here, please take my hand,” he offered.
After a moment, she reluctantly took it. He pulled her to her feet, then wrapped his arm around her waist as she slumped against him.
The bright light from the terrace afforded him his first real glimpse of her. Her pale brown hair was a tangle of loose curls and missing pins. Her white gown, which had several large wine stains down the front of it, had fared little better. She was truly a disheveled sight.
As he drew her close, he was shocked to discover she was actually a young woman. At a guess, no more than his own fiveand twenty years. Her face was pallid and drawn, her brown eyes were glazed with intoxication.
She was unsteady on her feet, and it took some effort for him to help her over to a nearby garden bench. She sat down heavily before leaning forward and dropping her head into her hands. She groaned. “Oh.”
“Are you alone here? Is there someone I could find to take care of you, a chaperone perhaps?” he asked.
There were no rings on her fingers, so he hazarded a guess at her having been left alone to her own devices at the party by an irresponsible chaperone. He would be having a stern word with the person who had been tasked to take care of her that evening. They had clearly failed in their duty.
She lifted her head slowly and looked at him. “Chaperone? Good god, not a chance of one of those coming with me to a party. I think, sir, that it is a little late for anyone to be concerned with protecting my reputation,” she snorted.
She attempted to stand, but quickly sat back on the bench. Thomas’s heart went out to her. If she ventured inside the party, she would make a terrible spectacle of herself.
He had to do something to help her. “Thomas Rosemount, son of Viscount Rosemount. I think you may be in need of my assistance.”
She sighed and laid her head back on the bench, closing her eyes. She waved a hand lackadaisically in the air. “Lady Cecily Norris, daughter of Earl Norris. If you were in possession of half a brain, Lord Rosemount, you would run a hundred miles away from me right now.”
Thomas took hold of Cecily’s waving hand and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He wasn’t going anywhere. “The least I could do, would be to see you safely home. A young lady in your current condition is vulnerable, and it would be remiss of me to abandon you. I shall have my carriage brought around tothe rear mews, so you can make a discreet exit from the party,” he said.
She kept her eyes closed but reached out and patted him on the hand. “Thank you, Lord Rosemount. You are truly a gentleman.”
Chapter Two
“This cannot go on, Cecily. You look like you have been dragged through a hedgerow backwards.”
