Lady Be Good: Lord Love a Lady Series, Book 5 Read online

  “Merchants in a small village near Brighten. I have nine brothers and sisters.” She finally turned and smiled at Rose. “Broderick did not marry me for my dowry. It would have been best if we could have waited until he could set up his own office, taken on clients of his own. But that was not possible either.”

  At Rose’s raised brows, the countess nodded.

  Rose could not have been any more taken aback had the woman told her she’d committed murder. This woman, this most elegant and confident lady, married to the Earl of Ravensdale, had gotten herself with child, out of wedlock, and then been forced to work as a maid.

  “Do not allow your past to define your future.” She met Rose’s gaze meaningfully.

  It was the last chance they would have to speak as the room fell dark and the conductor returned to his podium.

  After that, a numbness crept through Rose’s limbs causing the spectacular music that filled the room to fade into insignificance. Josephine’s words ought to mean something to her, she knew it logically.

  And yet…

  She shook her head. Josephine did not act as though she was a maid. She held her head regally. Her speech was refined.

  Rose felt as though she’d separated from her own body, as though she might step back and look at herself through a stranger’s eyes. A girl with dark hair and dark eyes. She wore fine clothes and yet looked slightly uncomfortable as she sat beside the self-assured countess.

  She was no longer chaste and yet she remained unmarried. She was a maid, and yet she was not.

  Who was she?

  Ursula Rosamond Waring.

  In what felt like only seconds, the crowd erupted in applause and everyone rose to their feet around her. She’d missed the entire second half of the performance.

  Who am I?

  Rose and Margaret’s visit to Raven’s Park was scheduled to come to an end in six days’ time. They’d stayed for six weeks and would be leaving for London the following week. Lady Hawthorne and her husband and the baby were scheduled to depart as well for the earl’s estate, which was being rebuilt after having burned to the ground just before they’d married.

  Rose could hardly believe so much time had passed, and she would miss Josephine and Natalie, Rome’s two brothers who occasionally made appearances, Stone and Peter, and even Lady Sheffield.

  She would miss her time spent in the music room. Hours and hours that she’d taken to remind herself that there was in fact “more” to life than pressing dresses, styling hair, and tidying up after Penelope.

  But London beckoned, and Margaret was eager to open up the townhouse bequeathed to her from her late husband’s estate, and, as she bravely suggested, to begin her life anew.

  She’d declared that it was vital they meet with Madam Chantal, London’s most exclusive modiste, and order their new wardrobes in a timely fashion so that they would be able to wear them at the beginning of the Season—at Danbury’s expense, of course.

  Rose made a few attempts at protesting the necessity of such a cost, but Margaret merely waved her off, stating that she would not enjoy it nearly as much if she were to be forced to only order new gowns for herself.

  “As soon as Garrett and I have inspected the progress at Maple Park, we will join the two of you in London. I already am missing both of you.” Natalie flipped through a fashion magazine while the other ladies present idled away the afternoon crocheting and embroidering. Rose had brought down one of the gowns she’d been wearing of Penelope’s so that she could repair the hem. She did not feel right leaving such work for Hazel to attend to. She’d learned that the girl’s duties were not limited to attending to Rose. She was also required to assist below stairs with the laundry.

  “Are you expecting guests today, Mother?” Natalie set the magazine aside to peer out the window.

  Josephine rose to take a look for herself. “Not that I know of. Perhaps Broderick invited a few of his associates? I cannot keep track of that man’s endless business dealings.” But then she raised a hand to her mouth and gasped. “Rome!”

  Rose would have stuck the needle clear through her finger if she hadn’t been wearing a thimble. Natalie jumped up with a squeal. “But who is that with him?”

  They had not been the only ones to hear the impending arrivals. Lord Ravensdale appeared in the doorway looking sturdy and arrogant and not at all surprised. Rose had only had a few occasions to speak with him and he was always kind, but he did not say a great deal. He quite reminded her of his son before she’d come to know him better.

  Although not as tall as Rome, he carried himself with confidence that did not imply arrogance.

  “He’s brought Wesley with him,” he announced, staring at his wife and holding a missive in one hand. “The boy’s grandmother has passed. I only received Darlington’s letter this morning.”

  “Oh, dear.” Josephine covered her mouth with one hand and then turned to face the other four ladies in the room. “Our grandson!”

  “All of this is yours?” Wesley hadn’t spoken a great deal as they’d neared Raven’s Park. And Rome hadn’t pressed him. The boy was holding up surprisingly well although he’d not spoken much about losing his grandmother.

  In an odd twist, the Thrush outbreak amongst the herd turned out to be an ironic godsend. Wesley’s uncle, John Clapper, whom Rome had become slightly acquainted with, had not seemed to care one way or another for his animals’ health. The man drank.

  Which had given Rome the opportunity to get to know his son. No better way to do that then to toil together with a common purpose. They’d labored side by side until every single sheep was walking and grazing comfortably. It had not been easy work or clean work, for that matter. But they’d come to, if not truly know one another, respect one another.

  And that look of resentment in his son’s eyes had turned to one of cautious trust.

  From the moment Rome set eyes on John Clapper, Rome had determined he’d have a presence in his son’s life. Not just financially, but as a parent; one who offered security, affection, and guidance. He didn’t give a damn what people said, he would bring the boy home with him and Wesley would be known as his son.

  Surprisingly enough, when Rome made his decision known to Wesley, his son had not argued the point.

  The tired look in Wesley’s eyes belied that too much responsibility had fallen on him since Mr. Creighton’s death. For such a young man, he’d grown cynical, accepting of less than his due. Too tired for his age.

  “It belongs to my father,” Rome answered. Raven’s Park would someday belong to Rome, but he did not like to imagine the circumstances that must transpire for such a transfer to occur. Nothing that was entailed could ever go to Wesley. Rome was already mentally considering an unentailed property that his father might be willing to set aside for Wesley when he completed his schooling.

  “Why aren’t you married?” Wesley asked.

  “Not for lack of trying.” Rome chuckled ironically. The disappointment he’d felt when Eliza jilted him didn’t compare to the devastation he’d experienced upon Rose’s rejection.

  The young man, for truly, Wesley was no longer a boy, stared across the road at him. “Grandmother always said you would marry the daughter of a duke, or another earl, and that it would likely be arranged by your father.”

  Rome grimaced. “I had hoped to marry for love.” He would not dissemble with his son on this. He was coming to realize that the more he shared his thoughts, his ideas, the more Wesley opened up to him.

  “The one who jilted you?” Even Wesley knew about his supposedly secret engagement. Rome shook his head.

  “That was another lady, last Christmas.” And then he laughed at himself. For all his infernal title and seemingly endless wealth, he’d been brought to his knees by a penniless lady’s maid. “The lady I wish to marry has turned me down. But I still have hope… What about you? Have you broken any hearts yet?”

  Wesley smiled sheepishly with a sideways glance. “Only a few. When I left Ha
rlow Point. But none that have touched mine.” After riding a few minutes in silence, the boy asked, “Did you love my mother?”

  Rome stiffened. This was a question he ought to have seen coming. He contemplated answering in the affirmative, but no. He’d decided he was not going to lie. His son deserved the truth, at the very least.

  “She was beautiful,” he responded. “And sweet. In truth, though, I hardly knew her. But I cannot say our affair was a mistake. Everything happens for a reason. I believe you provided great comfort for your grandparents.” He stared hard into eyes that reminded him of his own. “You are the reason, Wesley.”

  His son held his gaze for all of twenty seconds before he blinked and looked away.

  “And what of this other one, the one who refused you?”

  The answer to this question ought to be an easier one. Rome had loved Rose.

  God help him, he still did.

  The fact that she’d not believed in him still left him feeling raw. Wesley’s question was simple enough. Why did the answer feel so complicated?

  “You’ll have to marry eventually, though, won’t you?” Wesley persisted as they neared his father’s home.

  “I have three brothers and any of them could take over when I pass. So, no. I don’t necessarily have to marry.” Although his parents might argue this point with him. When Pierce had arrived in Wales, he’d carried the unfortunate news that the rumor had not only persisted but was apparently spreading beyond his personal acquaintances. His mother had received more than one concerned note from her Society friends.

  Owning up to a son ought to squelch the notion, although Rome hadn’t even considered it in his decision to bring Wesley to Raven’s Park. He certainly didn’t want the boy to think that it had any bearing on his decision to bring him there.

  “Do you think they will like me?” For the first time, his son allowed some of the uncertainty he was feeling to show through, if only by asking such a simple question.

  Rome considered his family. “They’re going to love you.” He didn’t doubt it in the least.

  “Even though I’m a bastard?”Rome hated the word, and yet, it was the truth. Wesley was a bastard, but he was also Rome’s son. Rome intended to go forward with an emphasis on the latter.

  He didn’t get a chance to respond, however, because at that moment the doors of the large Georgian Manor that Rome had considered home for most of his life flew open and both his father and mother appeared on the steps.

  Natalie and Aunt Eleanor followed.

  Along with Lady Asherton. And if his eyes did not deceive him, standing beside her was the woman who’d broken his heart.

  At first, he wondered if he could be mistaken. She had changed her appearance.

  Her hair was not pulled back into a tight knot. Instead, it was pinned up loosely so that a few curls draped onto her shoulders and soft strands caressed her cheek.

  She was not a mirage. Like a blow to his gut, seeing her stole the breath from his body.

  She’d declined his offer of marriage, claiming that she could never fit in, and yet she stood beside Lady Asherton wearing an attractive gown for all the world as though she’d known his family her entire life. What game was she playing?

  Rome dragged his gaze away from her. Not only had she refused his offer of marriage, but she’d also refused his love.

  She considered herself beneath him. Rome hardened his heart. If that’s what she wanted, then so be it. She was a nobody. She was a servant.

  He would treat her as though she was any other lady’s maid.

  Chapter 20

  Family

  The young man riding beside Rome could be none other than his son; lean, dark hair, serious eyes. He’d finally done this. He’d followed his heart and would be a father to his son. How could she be anything but happy for him?

  And although he appeared tired, no one could miss the determined set of his jaw, nor the pride in his expression as he rode alongside the young man who looked so similar to himself.

  She wanted to drink in the sight of him, of Rome, but at the same time wished herself anywhere but there. This ought to have been a moment for family only.

  Turning to Margaret, she sensed the other lady felt the same. Both of them stepped backward but could not return inside without making something of a spectacle of it.

  The men drew their horses to a halt and dismounted with ease and two stable lads immediately led their mounts away. Rome’s son gazed up at the splendid manor in what could only be awe. The clenched fists at his sides belied his nervousness.

  He only dropped his chin when Rome set his hands upon his shoulders and guided him toward the steps where Lord and Lady Ravensdale stood.

  Josephine dropped the hand she’d been holding at her mouth and blinked away what Rose assumed must be unshed tears. She would not wish to make the boy uncomfortable with an unwanted show of emotion.

  Rome’s son may have been born on the wrong side of the blanket, but he was also the spitting image of his father.

  “Mother, I’d like to present to you my son, Wesley Creighton, Wesley, this is my mother, your grandmother, the Countess of Ravensdale.”

  It had been six weeks since she’d heard his voice and the memory of his last spoken words to her nearly had her knees buckling.

  Rose swallowed hard while watching the young man shake hands with Lord Ravensdale. For a moment, the earl glanced up, met Rome’s gaze and then nodded almost imperceptibly.

  In approval.

  “And my sister, your aunt, Lady Hawthorne.”

  “I insist you call me Aunt Natalie!” The young woman showed none of the restraint her mother had, which Rose felt to be absolutely perfect. Aunts and uncles ought to be the ones who get to break a few rules.

  “Lady Asherton.” Rome turned toward the shadows where she and Margaret had attempted to disappear. “You are looking as lovely as ever.”

  Margaret dropped into a perfect curtsey. “You have been on the road far too long, My Lord.”

  He’d seen Rose, of course, he’d seen her. He had assumed she was present as Margaret’s maid. Her breath caught in her throat. He’d always acknowledged her before, in one form or another.

  “You remember Miss Waring.” Margaret attempted to remedy his ‘mistake.’ Of course, he remembered her. Margaret knew that he did. He’d nearly drowned himself in a half-frozen lake in order to save her life.

  When his gaze landed on Rose, however, those blue eyes turned cold. And before she could even acknowledge him, he skimmed his gaze over her dismissively.

  He barely nodded before turning back to Margaret. “Thank you, My Lady, for your kind understanding. I hope you’ll accept my apology for my absence when I’d intended to be here to entertain you. My brothers have accompanied you when the need arose, in my absence?”

  He’d never caused Rose to feel so very low as he did in that moment. At a loss, but determined to maintain her dignity, Rose stepped sideways to where Wesley stood awkwardly with Lord and Lady Ravensdale.

  Josephine and the earl, Rose would have wagered, were more nervous than the boy.

  “I hope you had a pleasant journey,” Rose spoke into the awkward silence that had fallen between the young man and his grandparents.

  Josephine spurred to life, introducing Rose, appearing almost flustered.

  “The journey was long but we had good weather.” Rome’s son hesitated and then bowed somewhat awkwardly. “Miss Waring,” he added.

  “The weather can certainly add to the weariness of travel.” Rose smiled to herself, remembering other recent occasions in which she’d had to resort to this mundane topic of conversation.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets sheepishly and glanced around. “My grandfather would have loved the stonework here.”

  That was when she noticed the sadness. Nothing about this would be familiar to the young man. He’d lost everything that was familiar, everything that was home to him. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
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br />   Josephine added her sentiments as well. But then added, “You must be tired, and hungry? Would you care to wash up first or would you rather eat first?”

  Josephine, a former maid, who was not cowed by any of the grand dames of the ton, was obviously shaken to meet her nearly grown grandson unexpectedly.

  Wesley looked to Rome for guidance. Such a simple question and yet he was so far out of his element.

  “We’ll take tea while a chamber is prepared for my son.” Rome appeared as serious as ever. Somehow, Rose doubted he’d be adding any sugar to his drink today.

  Margaret and Rose excused themselves at that point and only after scampering away from the emotional meeting, leisurely climbed the stairs to the upper floors.

  “That poor boy,” Margaret said in a hushed tone. “To lose everyone dear to him in such a short span of time.”

  “But he has his father now,” Rose could not help but point out. A father who could make a world of difference in Wesley’s life. He would give him something the boy’s grandparents never could.

  Although they had cared for him, and had likely loved him, they’d guarded him from being known as the Lord’s bastard son, a position they’d thought would not be worth enduring, in exchange for knowing his own father.

  “He does,” Margaret agreed. “It appears he is not going to hide the boy. Is that wise, do you think?”

  Rose drew in a deep breath. She was far too familiar with the notion of living in one world and yet belonging in another. “He’ll feel out of place, for a time,” she ventured. “But if he feels enough acceptance, from not only Ro— the viscount, but from all of the Spencers, I believe he’ll feel comfortable as time passes. I’m not certain he’ll ever fit in completely. Do you think Society will receive him?”

  The two ladies entered Rose’s chamber. “Shall I order tea for us? I know we just took some with the countess, but I’m always up for another cup. That way we can leave the family alone to… work out their new situation for the remainder of the afternoon.”