The Greatest Lover in All England (12 page)

Tony looked out at the line of serving maids who carried steaming buckets. He looked up at the ceiling to the place where he knew Lady Honora and his sisters scoured Rosie. He looked down at his hand, cupped no longer in the shape of Rosie's breast, but in the shape of Rosie's womanhood.

And he grinned.

 

Sir Danny paced the gallery, hearing Rosie's wails and remembering how, in the past, he'd always raced to her rescue. Sometimes the “other” lads tormented her as a sissy. Sometimes she'd been ill. But most of all, she'd had nightmares. He'd been there for her, always, and now he'd lost that right. Without consulting her, he'd given her up to the past which so frightened her, and now events, and Tony, swept her along.

A particularly loud shriek ended in a splash of water.

When would the torment stop?

 

Hal stretched his hands out to the red flames of the kitchen fire. They tinted his thin skin scarlet and gave the flesh a transparent glow, and he wondered if the flames of hell would eat him alive. Would he see his flesh consumed throughout eternity to pay for his sins? Would demons dig at him with pitchforks?

Or had he already died, and the devil tormented him with these stabbing pains in his brain? Would he eternally try to redeem himself, and eternally find himself condemned by God, Jesus, Mary, all the saints, and his fellow man?

When would the torment stop?

 

That old fool Sir Danny had outmaneuvered him. Huddled in the shrubs below the terrace, Ludovic cursed and watched the manor. The old fool and the young lord. Together they'd conspired to establish Rosie so far above Ludovic's status he had as much chance of having her as of touching the stars.

But she wasn't happy. Her screams tore at his heart.

The laughter of the serving maids infuriated him. Even from outside the manor, he could hear the cold, precise tones of those three women, those witches who directed the torture.

What kind of man did Sir Danny and that cocky lord imagine him to be? Not a chivalrous fool like these Englishmen, but a real warrior of the north. He would show them.

Evening fell, lights glowed from the long windows, and still the cruel bath went on.

When would the torment stop?

 

“I'm not the heir!” Rosie sputtered. She stood in the bathtub as the maids sluiced fresh water over her head.

“Tony is convinced you are.” Jean lifted a gown from a trunk. “What think you, Ann? You have an eye for color.”

Ann considered the yellow silk, then shook her head. “Nay, 'twill turn her dark complexion sallow. Try to find a really vibrant red.”

Jean shook out a crimson velvet gown, trimmed in gold braid loops.

“Aye, that'll be grand,” Ann said.

“I have cuffs trimmed with black and red thread that would set off Rosalyn's hands.” Lady Honora examined Rosie's nails, then gestured to the maid wielding the well-used brush. “Scrub them.”

“I'm not wearing those clothes.” Rosie winced as her nails were scoured clean, and she wondered at her own defiance. She'd done everything these three women, these witches, had commanded so far. She'd had no choice.

She'd taken not one, but two baths. She had been sand-scraped, deloused, and washed until she expected
to see long strips of skin lying in the tub. Her protests had been ignored, her threats laughed at. Tony's two sisters, she realized, had dealt with recalcitrant children before, and such they considered her. And Lady Honora—it would never occur to Lady Honora to be afraid of anything.

“Of course you'll wear these clothes, or you'll go naked.” Jean laid out stomachers until she found one that met Ann's approval. “We burned those other rags you were wearing. Besides, these may be twenty years out of fashion, but they're yours.”

A linen towel enveloped Rosie's head, and when she emerged, hair tangled, she asked, “Mine?”

Jean explained, “You're Edward's daughter.”

“I'm not.”

“The trunks were here when Tony took possession of Odyssey Manor.”

Urging Rosie out of the tub, Ann held Rosie's splinted arm out while the maids dried Rosie from head to toe. “Of course you're the heiress. We all knew Edward. He was a favorite of the queen's, and we were Her Majesty's ladies-in-waiting.”

Rosie grabbed at the towels, trying to cover herself from what seemed like thousands of eyes. Indeed, she hadn't realized so many women existed on the estate, but everyone wanted to witness the bathing of the new mistress, and the three witches seemed to approve. “Witnesses will quiet any rumors, my dear,” Jean had told her when she protested her embarrassment. “They'll all have seen your transformation from actor to heir, and there'll be no talk of a switch.”

The maids snatched the towels from Rosie, and she found herself dry and bare as a babe. Mocking to cover her discomfort, she said, “Now you're going to tell me I look like him?”

“Not at all.” Lady Honora's deep tones disapproved of her frivolity. “You look like
her
.”

“Her?”

“Your mother.”

Her mother? She'd never thought about a mother.

“You did have a mother, forsooth.” Jean pressed her lips together.

Bewildered by the undercurrents, Rosie asked, “Didn't you like her?”

“She almost ruined Edward.” Ann dropped a cambric smock over Rosie's head, helped her pull her splinted arm through, and loosely tied the strings.

“Ruined him?”

“The queen does not like her courtiers to wed,” Lady Honora intoned, “and Edward was one of her favorites.”

“We never knew what he saw in her.” Jean wrapped a silk-covered stomacher around Rosie and when it was approved, a maid laced it to her body. “She was skinny like you.”

“And brown like you.” One by one, Lady Honora tried caps on Rosie until one, a black cap trimmed in pearls, won approval.

“No charm at all, but Edward couldn't resist her. He built this manor for her. 'Twas called Sadler House then, of course.” Ann handed her maid a petticoat of black mockado, followed by one of red serge, and the maid tied the points to the stomacher. “Then he married that woman without the queen's permission.”

“Forsooth, she was with child.” Jean peered at Rosie. “With you. Edward was quite foolishly pleased when you were born, and presented you to the queen as her future lady-in-waiting.”

“He had an insolent charm.” Ann sighed and smiled.

“You were in love with him,” Jean accused.

“As were you, sister.”

Lady Honora put an end to their squabbling. “We all were.”

“What happened to my mother?” Rosie queried.

The sisters grinned at each other slyly, realizing she'd laid a claim to the Sadler heritage, but Lady Honora said, “She died.”

“Oh.” Everyone died. Everyone abandoned Rosie. Why had she even asked?

“Edward never looked at another woman, except the queen, and we all knew he cultivated her for your sake.” Jean wrapped a bum roll farthingale around Rosie's hips. “Luckily, Queen Elizabeth never knew how much he adored you, or she would have been jealous of you, too.”

“As it was, she searched for you most assiduously when you disappeared, and mourned Edward with real grief.” Ann wiped a tear from her cheek. “She said she promised him to care for you should anything happen, and she felt she'd failed in her duty. Your arrival at court should make her very happy.”

“If we can make a lady of you,” said Jean.

Lady Honora put the period on Rosie's fate. “We
will
make a lady of her, one worthy to wed a nobleman—although not Tony. He's mine.”

“For Edward's sake.” Jean put out a hand to her conspirators, and each laid a hand atop hers.

“For Edward's sake,” they agreed.

“
Hey, Sir Danny!
Look at this costume.” Rosie skipped along the long gallery toward her guardian. Branches of candles sent a glow around the waxed and polished wall paneling and illuminated the vivid colors of the tapestries. The tall glass windows glistened, black and shiny with encroaching night, but at each end of the gallery, a huge fireplace roared with a conflagration that hurled warmth into the cool atmosphere and challenged the darkness.

Sir Danny turned from the flames, and his eyes widened at the spectacle Rosie presented as she whirled before him.

A single hand on her elbow jerked her to a stop.

“Ladies do not run nor do they prance,” Lady Honora said in reproof.

“They glide,” Jean said.

“Lest their petticoats fly up or they trip on their high heels.” Ann minced along on her own heels. “Embarrassing and all too common among women who should know better.”

“Nor do they demand admiration from their friends for their clothing.” Erect with pomposity, Lady Honora folded her hands in front of her.

Rosie stuck out her lip, and Jean pinched her cheek. “Ladies do not sulk.”

“After all, you have a responsibility.” Lady Honora nodded a greeting to Sir Danny. “You must acquit yourself well, or you'll be a disgrace to us.”

Bowing with a flourish, Sir Danny proclaimed, “These ladies are as fresh as the first buds of spring, bursting forth in color and glory to proclaim, ‘Winter is vanquished. Let us frolic in the breeze and dance under the sun.'”

“A bit much,” Rosie murmured to him, but Ann tittered, Jean inclined her head, and even Lady Honora smiled cordially.

Sir Danny shot Rosie a triumphant glance, then graciously said, “You do look lovely. I especially like the sling, which matches your gown, Rosie.”

Lady Honora cleared her throat and frowned.

“And you do look clean.” Sir Danny frowned back at Lady Honora. “I hope this ‘bath' has no ill effect on her.”

Looking equally severe, Lady Honora intoned, “A bath never hurt anyone, as long as it is administered in a well-heated room with the proper herbal additions, and not more than four times a year. But Sir Danny, I must warn you against calling Rosalyn by that dreadful name.”

“Dreadful name?” Sir Danny seemed confused.

“Rosie.” Lady Honora made it sound like an insult.

Bewildered, Sir Danny asked, “What else should I call her?”

“Her Christian name is Rosalyn”—Lady Honora pronounced it carefully as if to educate his ear—“and since she is the daughter of an earl, she should be called ‘Lady Rosalyn' by all but those closest to her.”

Sir Danny and Rosie exchanged eloquent glances.

“Since you are a mere actor,” Lady Honora continued, “you should certainly call her by that title.”

Rosie realized they were already trying to separate her from the man closest to her heart. She might be angry at him for his high-handed dominion of her fortune, but, damn it, she would decide his punishment, and not because his rank was less than hers. Furious, she demanded, “Does his position as my savior count for nothing?”

Ann clasped Rosie's free hand between her own. “It sounds cold, I know, but you must realize that the tale of your life must be strongly edited. I think we must say that Lady Honora found you living in the care of one of her kindly old aunts.”

“I have no kindly aunts,” Lady Honora said.

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Rosie muttered.

Jean was patient with her literal friend. “We'll pretend.”

“We do know how to pretend, don't we…Rosie?” Sir Danny softened his defiance with a charming smile and offered his arm. Rosie came forward to take it, but Lady Honora stepped in front of her and accepted it as if it were her right.

Ann took it on herself to explain the order of rank to the gaping Rosie. “We go in one at a time in order of the nobility. Lady Honora enters first, forsooth, for she is a dowager duchess and has inherited a barony of her own. Jean goes next. She is a dowager marchioness and
the daughter of an earl. You and I are of equal rank, both being daughters of earls. However, I married down. My husband is only a baron, so I am properly known as Lady Ann, the daughter of the earl of Spencer since that is my higher title. Since I'm older than you, and you're unmarried, I will enter next.” Observing Rosie's wide-eyed wonder, Ann asked kindly, “Do you have an inquiry?”

Rosie gulped. “How do you remember all that?”

Ann laughed, a tinkling, young sound. “Wait until you go to court. There, you'll have to remember everyone's title and the order of precedence.”

“You're going to frighten her away, Ann.” Tony's warm voice broke Rosie's horrified trance, and he swung her around with his hand on her waist. “Let me see you.”

See her? See him. See all of him, in an elegant black velvet outfit with lace at the neck and lace at the sleeves and red-thread embroidery and a small stiff ruff. Such an outfit would have worn a lesser man, but Tony wore the outfit. Maybe because she remembered how he looked this afternoon—proud and naked.

What did he think of her? She stood still, shoulders back, telling herself that his regard in no way differed from the regard of an audience. If anything, it should be easier to accept with equanimity. But somehow, Tony's regard felt different than the regard of an audience. Her skin was too clean—dry, bare, unprepared to shed its camouflage of dirt and reveal itself. Or perhaps it wasn't her skin, but her spirit which lay exposed to Tony's observation and awaiting his verdict.

But when his verdict came, it was no eloquent soliloquy, but a breathlessly simple, “You're fine as a new-minted fivepence piece.”

Rosie gathered comfort from the thought that he failed to realize how he disarmed her. He had the dazed appearance of a man drunk on good fortune and insensate to nuances. She replied with the same simplicity. “Aye. I always thought I made a good-looking woman.” Prosaically she tweaked her skirt and made her first bid for freedom. “But I don't intend to dress like a woman all the time.”

Ann cried, “But you must! You must. Why not?”

Her high-pitched dismay seemed to knock Tony from his trance, and he gathered his wit with a speed that boded ill for Rosie. “Didn't you have the clothes she was wearing burned, Annie?”

“Oh.” Ann laid one hand on her chest, sighing as if her heart tried to escape through the stomacher's ivory cross-bracing. “Burned them. That's true. We burned them. You'll have to wear your skirts, Lady Rosalyn. We burned your nasty actor clothes.”

Unable to resist Ann's fluttering goodwill, Rosie begged, “Please, call me Rosie, or at least Rosalyn.”

“Oh, my dear.” Ann petted Rosie's head, even though that head was taller than her own. “I would be honored, but we must stick with Rosalyn. It's a proper name for a lady of your stature. You call me Sister Ann, even though I suppose you're not going to be my sister.”

She looked troubled, but Rosie patted her back in return.

“Why isn't she going to be your sister?” Tony inquired.

“Because Jean and Lady Honora have decided she'll have to wed someone else.”

“I have decided she'll wed me.” Tony bent down until he was at eye level with Ann. “And who do you think will win?”

“You?” Ann pointed at him. “Or Lady Honora?”
She pointed toward the dining room, then pointed at him, then pointed toward the dining room.

She might have gone on forever, but Rosie took Ann's outstretched index finger and closed it into her palm. “Don't fret about it. No one's counted me yet.”

Tony grinned. “I'll get you on my side, then there'll be no stopping us.”

Ann squeaked like a mouse. “I don't want to be around when that happens.”

“It's not likely to occur.” Rosie threw out the challenge casually, hoping Tony took heed.

He bowed his head, according her the respect of a worthy opponent, but if he was worried, he hid it well.

“You smell clean.” He sniffed ostentatiously. “I find a clean body under a gown of silk to be a mighty aphrodisiac.”

Rosie sniffed right back at him. “If there's a trunk upstairs with ladies” clothing from Lord Sadler's era, I'm sure there's also a trunk with gentlemen's clothing. If the ladies' clothes are mine, so are the gentlemen's, so I'll have no trouble changing back.”

Tony openly admired her good sense, then mused, “I wonder what Queen Elizabeth will think when you bow to her, dressed in bean-filled canions and a doublet, and present her the petition for the return of the Sadler estate. I think she'll be amazed, don't you, sister?”

Ann's mouth moved, but no words came out. And if Ann was this agitated, Rosie could imagine the queen's shock. Defiant, she said, “I'll dress like a woman when I present the petition.”

But she could almost hear Tony's retort, and he didn't say a word. He just thought very loudly.

To claim Odyssey Manor, she needed the training Lady Honora, Jean, and Ann offered, and they wouldn't give it to a woman dressed like a man.

“Oh dear.” Ann wrung her hands. “Oh, dear, this won't do.”

“Go in and have a seat.” Tony guided his sister toward the dining room. “Rosie and I will be there in a moment.”

“But I need to explain to her—”

Tony gave Ann a little push. “
I'll
explain.”

“Oh.” Ann glanced at him doubtfully, then brightened. “Oh! You'll explain to her.”

“Aye.”

“Listen to Tony, dear.” Ann spoke over her shoulder as she moved into the dining room. “Tony always knows best.”

Ann's blind faith in Tony's persuasive abilities irked Rosie almost more than Tony's smug assurance, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I'm listening.”

Moving to the doors, Tony flung them open and moved onto the terrace. The darkness outside was absolute, flowing in on the breeze and almost smothering the candles in the gallery.

So little light. So much darkness.

“Come out,” Tony called. “I won't let it get you.”

He knew how she hated the dark, but he challenged her with his tone, his words, his action, and she wanted to be and do everything better than Tony. After all, the true heir wouldn't be afraid of anything.

On the other hand, the true heir needed to learn the correct way to behave, and her instructors remained in the dining room. On the other hand, if she left Tony by himself, he might think she shied away from him because of his seductive ability. On the other hand…taking a breath, she stepped across the threshold onto the terrace.

Darkness surrounded her like a blanket, blotting thought from her brain.

“I'm over here.”

Tony's voice guided her to the corner on her left, and she inched forward, hands outstretched. She didn't want to run into the benches and tables placed to take advantage of the sunshine, when the blessed sun was shining.

“I would be honored by your courage.” Tony sounded ironic. “But I know my sisters can be overwhelming, and Lady Honora is…Lady Honora.”

Rosie's eyes began to adjust to the dark. The light from the windows illuminated the obstacles in her path, and Tony revealed himself to her by blocking the light of the stars.

“Fighting the dark with me has to be more amusing than learning proper table ceremony.”

“Aye, you're right.” She reached his side without incident, and panted as if she'd traversed a great distance. Her stomacher must cut her too tight. Her heels must be too high. She must be too tense, waiting for Tony to confront her as she dreaded.

But he said nothing. He was nothing but a form beside her. He looked out over the estate, and she looked, too, trying to see what he saw.

There was nothing. Just the dim outlines of the land as it rolled away to the horizon, and then the great, black sky alive with strings of stars that sparkled like Queen Elizabeth's jewels.

“Look out there.” Tony whispered as if they were in church. “'Tis the prettiest spot in all England.”

“Aye.” Aye, it was. It was a dreamscape unlike any other she had imagined, with mists hiding in the hollows and great oaks whispering to the stars.

“Some nights I come out here by myself and just sit. I can almost hear the grass and crops drawing strength from the soil. Some days I come out and each ripple of ground sings with beauty and a sense of timelessness.”
His arm slipped around her waist, and she stiffened. Would he start to seduce her now? “Can you hear it?”

“I think so.” She heard a siren singing, and while the voice was Tony's, the lyrics and the long-forgotten melody enticed her.

“The land has been here forever, basking beneath the sun and reveling in the rain. To own it is to possess a piece of eternity.”

She breathed the night air and her nerves burned with more anticipation than she ever experienced when she stepped on the stage. She, who had never owned anything, who didn't even believe in her claim to this patrimony, reached out and embraced the land.

The hand at her waist tightened. “You want it, don't you?”

She put her claws into his flesh until he yelped and jerked back. “It's mine.”

His teeth flashed in the shadows of his face. “It's
mine
, and if you want it, you'll have to marry me to get your part.”

Seduction. She'd been worried that he would seduce her body. But no. He'd seduced her senses, exposing the needs she'd hidden even from herself. Naturally, she'd laid claim to Odyssey Manor, but she hadn't craved it, lusted after it, coveted it. Now she did.

The man was clever. Cleverer than she'd ever imagined. She had better never forget it, and she had better discover a way to combat it.

So she kissed him.

As she mashed her lips onto his, she tasted his astonishment, then his amusement. Pulling back, she studied the situation, made corrections to the tilt of their faces and the pressure of their lips, and tried again.