Книга - A Vow For An Heiress

A Vow For An Heiress
Helen Dickson


The vow of a lordIn exchange for an heiressWith his bankrupt and crumbling estate, Lord Ashurst and his situation are well known to the ton. He needs a wife, and she must be rich! He leaps at a marriage of convenience with heiress Rosa Ingram. She might be beautiful, kind and brave, but when he discovers the truth about her past and her family wealth he’s torn by his sense of honour. Should he marry her now?







The vow of a lord

In exchange for an heiress!

With a bankrupt and crumbling estate, Lord Ashurst’s situation is well known to the ton. He needs a wife, and she must be rich! He leaps at a marriage of convenience with heiress Rosa Ingram. She may be beautiful, kind and brave, but after discovering the truth about her past and family wealth, he’s torn by his sense of honor. Should he marry her now?

“An intriguing and uncommon opening will have readers wondering what could possibly happen next.”

—RT Book Reviews on Carrying the Gentleman’s Secret by Helen Dickson

“A Cinderella-like tale, Dickson’s newest is one of healing and hope.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Foundling Bride by Helen Dickson


HELEN DICKSON was born and still lives in South Yorkshire, with her retired farm manager husband. Having moved out of the busy farmhouse where she raised their two sons, she now has more time to indulge in her favourite pastimes. She enjoys being outdoors, travelling, reading and music. An incurable romantic, she writes for pleasure. It was a love of history that drove her to writing historical fiction.


Also by Helen Dickson (#u54a72797-1281-514b-a2cb-e93b11619e2c)

The Devil Claims a Wife

The Master of Stonegrave Hall

Mishap Marriage

A Traitor’s Touch

Caught in Scandal’s Storm

Lucy Lane and the Lieutenant

Lord Lansbury’s Christmas Wedding

Royalist on the Run

The Foundling Bride

Carrying the Gentleman’s Secret

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


A Vow for an Heiress

Helen Dickson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08863-3

A VOW FOR AN HEIRESS

© 2018 Helen Dickson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#u9c452678-7d09-5c5f-b3dc-32ec8dd7af24)

Back Cover Text (#u06090875-bf94-52a5-a05b-81b55cc65921)

About the Author (#u3944fe29-5263-562a-a0a8-e97e5bd7becb)

Booklist (#u548dcd88-d3ea-5334-800c-6288d82d2a6c)

Title Page (#uc7a6f94f-59b7-547c-afd7-32f0944c1e88)

Copyright (#ua50782e0-e787-58f4-bb1c-3cd077717775)

Prologue (#u4a4d269e-6b37-5530-b3f9-118667bac3a7)

Chapter One (#u2887828b-a1f7-5328-b212-c5b8004d807c)

Chapter Two (#ubaebfdde-9b61-5b5d-ae3d-ffe0b3280350)

Chapter Three (#ue414696f-ac6d-5d8a-a412-2f1e6aed7435)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue (#u54a72797-1281-514b-a2cb-e93b11619e2c)

1816


The Indian sunset was magnificent, illuminating the towers and domes of the Rajinda Palace in a princely state in the north of India. They caught the light—bright gold in the flaming glory of the setting sun. On the wide horizon the gold gradually turned to rose and purple. It was a vision of fantastic splendour—one William had marvelled at since he was a boy. A deep, aching sadness touched his heart. He was soon to leave this beautiful country, the land of his birth—his home, never to return.

Having served as an officer with distinction in the honourable East India Company, William’s ambition and ability elevating him to the position of Colonel, on receiving a letter informing him of the demise of his cousin, bound by the ties of family, he had resigned his post. He was to go to England to take up the position of the sixth Earl of Ashurst, an event he looked on with little joy. India held his heart and his imagination, and it would be hard adapting to life as a member of the English aristocracy.

Throughout the years with his regiment he had been motivated by a sense of adventure and driven by the excitement of battle, but the sights of the battlefields and the loss of his friends had left their scars.

He passed through an enormous gated entrance, large enough for elephants two abreast and an army to pass through. Being a familiar figure at the palace, allowed to come and go at will, he was not apprehended. The vast, marble magnificence of the ornately decorated royal residence with its orchards and groves inside the massive, crenellated Mogul walls never failed to impress him. He walked beneath tall archways and through scented courtyards full of statuary and on through marble pavilions to a place where a cool breeze drifted through detailed latticework from the flower-scented gardens. Colourful ring-necked parrots graced the branches of mango trees, loud with quarrelling monkeys and squabbling mynah birds.

As a surgeon in the British East India Company, William’s father had come to the palace on the request of the Rajah—the present Rajah’s father—to treat his youngest son, Tipu, who had been thrown from his horse and almost trampled to death. His medical skill had saved the boy’s life, although the accident had left him crippled. His father had been highly thought of by the Rajah and he had brought William with him on many occasions to spend time with the Rajah’s youngest son.

William watched as a figure materialised from the shadows. This was his friend Tipu Chandra, dressed in silks and winking jewels. He was small and slight, his eyes brilliant and watchful. Tipu was intelligent and imaginative, a man of brains and breeding whose enthusiasm for life had been broken by the crippling riding accident. He was twenty-six years old, yet he shuffled towards him like a frail old man, dragging his injured leg behind him. There was close friendship and brotherhood between them, and a great measure of mutual respect. The two men embraced, then Tipu stepped back.

‘William, my friend. I am so glad you have come. I understand you are to go to England.’

‘I am. I have had word that my cousin has died. I am his heir and must return to take over the running of the estate—such as it is at this present time. According to his solicitor it is practically bankrupt, so you understand my haste to leave India.’

‘Knowing you, my friend, you are most reluctant to leave. I know you look upon India as your home.’

‘You are right, I do, and I would not have left without seeing you, Tipu.’

‘And you will not forget me when you are no longer in India?’

‘I could never do that.’

‘That is good. You are much changed from the boy who came to the palace with your father all those years ago and took pity on the crippled child.’

‘I never pitied you, Tipu. You know that.’

‘I do and thank you for it. I always looked forward to your visits and valued the time you spent with me. Few people wanted to spend time with a cripple, but you were different.’

‘I’d like to think I saw beneath your disability. You are my lifelong friend and I shall miss you. I got your message saying you wanted to see me. What about?’

‘My nephew—Dhanu. I have an important and rather delicate task for you to do for me. In fact...’ he paused, studying William’s face ‘...it is a task I am taking a tremendous risk in entrusting to you. But I know that you can do it. If anybody can, it is you. I want you to take Dhanu with you when you go to England.’

William’s eyes opened wide. ‘What? Why would you want me to? Tipu—has something happened?’

‘I am afraid for his safety. Here anything might happen to him. It is not only wild beasts that prowl beyond the walls that are a danger to him. It is here, within the palace. My brother’s wife, the Rani, and her brother Kamal hate him. Kamal is ambitious. All he wants is power, lots of it. He is greedy and cruel and if he could get rid of my brother so much the better, once he has dealt with Dhanu. He will use his sister’s children like counters in the games he likes to play and once he has achieved his aim, he will sit upon his achievements like a large spider and weave his plots. The boys will be like pawns in his games, to be put forward as bait, to draw rich prizes into his web. I do all I can, but I cannot watch Dhanu all of the time.’

William knew Kamal Kapoor and how throughout the years he had taunted Tipu mercilessly about his crippled state. He also knew how much Tipu loved the boy, the five-year-old son of his brother, Rohan, the Rajah. He also knew how deeply he had loved Zoya, Dhanu’s mother, how devoted to her he had been. But her ambitious family had overlooked the crippled Tipu in favour of the more able-bodied, more powerful Rajah. Something in Tipu’s eyes caught his attention. Ever since Zoya had died, he had seen a deep sadness in his friend’s eyes. But now it was worse. It was more than sadness—it was fear. Fear for Dhanu.

When Zoya had died, the Rajah had taken another wife, Anisha. She was very beautiful. Her position was strengthened by the birth of their twin sons. Courtiers flattered and fawned on her and hastened to ingratiate themselves with the new power behind the throne—not so Tipu. Intrigue and ambition haunted the new wife’s quarters. Anisha was a devious woman, a woman whose heart would never rule her head. She would not rest until she had put her firstborn son in Dhanu’s place, such was her jealousy of the boy.

Unfortunately, the Rajah was besotted with his new wife and he did not see what was happening. On the birth of their sons, suddenly his firstborn was of less importance. He would do anything to please her. She held him in the palm of her hand. Her hatred of Dhanu knew no bounds. She would not be secure in her position until the Rajah’s eldest son was removed. Accidents had begun to happen and Tipu now employed an official taster for the child lest she try to poison him.

‘Steps have to be taken to protect Dhanu,’ Tipu said. ‘He is still grieving deeply the death of his mother—he misses her every day. Take him with you—in secret—until it is safe for him to return.’

‘And his father—the Rajah?’

‘My brother is weak. He would do anything to please his wife. Despite my own aversion to the woman and other differences, as brothers we have always been close. He has agreed to let me remove him from the palace.’

‘But not to have him go to England.’

‘He is so blinded by his love and susceptible to his wife’s influence, I doubt he will notice he is gone. I will deal with him when he finds out what I have done.’

The Rajah’s deep affection and his protection of his younger brother could not be denied, but how he would react when he discovered Dhanu had been spirited out of India William could not imagine. ‘You have been more of a father to Dhanu than his own, Tipu. Zoya should have married you.’

A sad smile touched Tipu’s lips. ‘No. She was very beautiful—such beauty would have been wasted on a cripple. It was enough for me that I could be near her. You are my good friend, William. I beg you, do this for me and you will be suitably rewarded.’

‘You and I are friends, Tipu. I look for no reward.’

‘Nevertheless I will not forget what you have done for me, my friend—or your father. Had he not treated me when I was thrown from my horse when I was a boy and everyone almost gave me up for dead, I would not be here now. Better to live the life of a cripple than to have no life at all. So—you will do it, you will take Dhanu with you?’

‘Yes—I will take him.’

‘You will protect him, I know.’

‘I will protect him with my life. You know that.’

‘Do not underestimate Kamal Kapoor, William. You know the depth of his cruelty, his deviousness and his mastery of poisons and debilitating drugs. Keep what you are to do to yourself. If he hears of it, he will strike before you have a chance to board ship.’

William’s expression was grave. ‘I will not utter a word, although I would not put it past him to follow me to England to do the deed—or hire someone to do it for him.’

‘That is my concern. Take care, William—of yourself and Dhanu. You are precious to me, both of you. Because of our friendship Kamal hates you enough to tear your life to shreds. Be warned.’




Chapter One (#u54a72797-1281-514b-a2cb-e93b11619e2c)


Having left the ship that had brought them from India, William Barrington, the Earl of Ashurst, escorted the child and his Indian nurse, Mishka, along the busy wharf of the East India Dock. The air heavy with the odour of hemp and pitch, it was a seething mass of noisy humanity. A number of heavily armed Company-owned vessels were at anchor in the deep water. Tall masts and webs of rigging swayed with the motion of the River Thames, the charcoal-grey water lapping at the great hulls. Workshops and warehouses all within a mile of India House stored all kinds of exotic commodities from the east that stirred the imagination. Ropes and barrels were piled high and stevedores carried trunks and crates from the ship.

Dhanu, the five-year-old child, had difficulty keeping up with William’s long strides so he hoisted him up into his arms. Tall, lean and as olive skinned as a native Indian, his hair dark, thick and curling, William was a man who inspired awe in all those he met.

His mind was very much on what he had to do now he was in London. After much deliberation and letters passing to and fro between him and his solicitor, there was only one solution that he could see to satisfy the creditors. He must marry a rich wife, a prospect he little relished after his ill-fated betrothal to Lydia Mannering. Lydia was the only daughter of an Englishman who had made his money in India as countless others had done and continued to do. Lydia was beautiful, witty and fun to be with, he had adored her, believing she would fulfil all his yearnings and dreams and light up his life with love and laughter and children. She was impressed to learn he was the cousin of the Earl of Ashurst and enthralled with the idea of going to London and mixing with the cream of society. Despite his aristocratic connections, William came from the poorer branches of his parents’ respective families. He did not have a private fortune and did not give a damn for titles, when all Lydia’s mercenary heart cared about was wealth and rank.

How utterly stupid and gullible he had been to let himself believe she cared for him. On returning from a long tour of duty he was devastated to discover Lydia had married someone else, an officer whose credentials and wealth far outshone his own.

William was the last in a long line of Barringtons. If he didn’t produce a legitimate heir, the title would become extinct. It troubled him more than anyone realised, and he knew he could not ignore the issue. He would marry with great reluctance, unless he could find a wife who would bear his children and make no demands on him. Hurt and angry by Lydia’s betrayal, with grim determination he had forced himself to come to grips with what she had done, managing to keep his emotions well hidden. Never again would he let his emotions get the better of him, and he vowed that he would not allow himself to be so weakened by a woman’s body and a pair of seductive eyes. His heart was closed to all women.

Apparently his solicitor had a wealthy client, the mother of a man—Jeremiah Ingram—who had made his fortune as a sugar cane planter in the West Indies, and she was looking to marry her two granddaughters to titled gentlemen. He was to be introduced to the eldest of the two before he left the city for Berkshire. William was single-minded and completely unreadable, and at that particular moment he had an uneasy feeling of being watched. His stride was unhurried and, apart from a muscle that ticked in his clenched jaw, there was nothing about him to betray the fact that every nerve and faculty was tense and alert. His sharp, bright blue eyes observed everything that was going on around him, looking closely at individuals and probing the shadows for the dark faces of the two men who had followed him from India on another Company vessel, two men who posed a direct threat to the child.

As he left the docks he was unaware of the two figures that emerged from the shadows. One of the men was Kamal Kapoor. His dark eyes held a steadiness of sinister intent as they followed in William’s wake.



Glancing out of the window of her grandmother’s well-sprung travelling chaise, Rosa Ingram wished the weather wasn’t so depressingly dull and cold, with rain falling heavily. Clouds darkened the sky, obliterating the sun as if it was probably too afraid to show its face.

Rosa felt no attachment to England. With its depressing weather and capital city a confusion of people and noise, it was a world away from the vibrancy and gently waving palms against the splendid vivid blue sky of her plantation home on her beloved island of Antigua, where she and her sister, Clarissa, older than her by two years, had been raised. A lump appeared in her throat when she thought of the circumstances that had brought them to this day, of the anguish that had engulfed them, almost drowning them in a sea of despair when their beloved parents had been laid to rest.

Abiding by their father’s wishes, they had come to England on his demise to live with their paternal grandmother at Fountains Lodge in Berkshire. With just her maid, Dilys, for company, Rosa was travelling to Berkshire after staying with Aunt Clara and Uncle Michael in London.

Their grandmother was resolved to find suitable husbands for both her granddaughters before her death, which, since she suffered ill health, could happen at any time. She was afraid that should it come to pass before she had seen them both settled, as immensely wealthy young women they would be besieged by fortune hunters. It could prove disastrous with no one to guide them. She was assured their beauty and wealth would secure some penniless nobleman.

But how Rosa wished she could put her share of their father’s wealth to better use. Shoring up some penniless nobleman’s estate seemed a dreadful waste of money when so many people were in want. Deeply concerned with the sorry plight of London’s destitute children, Aunt Clara was involved in charity work. It was the kind of work that appealed to Rosa, something she could apply herself to that would be both worthwhile and rewarding. When she had broached the subject with her aunt, much as she would welcome the funds that would benefit her charities, she had refused, telling Rosa that she was far too young to become involved with such things. Besides, Rosa’s father had made his mother, Amelia Ingram, her guardian. It was up to her to decide what she should do.

And so Rosa had set off for Berkshire. Clarissa had protested tearfully against marrying the Earl of Ashurst, openly declaring her love for Andrew Nicholson, a young man she had met on Antigua. He had been visiting friends on the island and had travelled to England to visit relatives on the same ship. His family home was on the island of Barbados, where his father, like their own, also had a sugar cane plantation. The Nicholson family were wealthy and well connected and held considerable influence on the island. Clarissa had appealed to her grandmother to let them wed before he had to return to Barbados, but she had dismissed Clarissa’s entreaties, stubbornly refusing to discuss the matter further.

She believed she had found the perfect match for her elder granddaughter in William Barrington, the Earl of Ashurst. Having distinguished himself as a soldier in the East India Company, he had recently returned to England to fill the role of the next Earl of Ashurst, heir to the vast Barrington estate in the county of Berkshire. Unfortunately it was almost bankrupt. To avoid closing the house and selling land and the Barrington town house in Grosvenor Square, an enormous amount of money must be acquired—and quickly. With no means of his own, William Barrington had agreed to his lawyers’ suggestion that he found himself a wealthy wife.

The Ingram family’s small land portion bordered the Ashurst estate. Miss Clarissa and Miss Rosa Ingram’s widowed grandmother had been in London for the sole purpose of calling on the Earl’s lawyers to propose a match between the Earl and her eldest granddaughter. Matters had been approved but nothing signed, and following a brief meeting between the Earl and Clarissa, their grandmother had returned to Berkshire with Clarissa. Unfortunately, Aunt Clara had taken to her bed with a severe cold. Concerned for her aunt, Rosa had remained behind until she was well enough for her to leave.

The travelling chaise pulled into the yard of a busy inn, where coaches going to and from London stopped for their passengers to partake of refreshment. Rosa uttered a sigh of relief. The journey was proving to be long and tedious, made worse by her maid’s sniffles and coughing. The poor girl did look most unwell. The sooner they reached their destination and the girl was in bed the better.

‘Come along inside, Dilys,’ Rosa urged as they climbed down from the coach, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head to protect herself from the relentless rain while stepping round the deep puddles that had formed in the yard. ‘Something to eat and a hot drink will probably make you feel better.’

The inn was thronged with a rumpled assortment of noisy travellers, trying to get close to the warmth of the crackling fire as they waited to resume their journeys. Seeing her dismay on finding the inn so crowded, the driver sought out the landlord. After speaking to him they were shown into a less crowded room.

Rosa found a quiet corner for herself and Dilys while the driver left them to take care of the horses. After removing her fur-trimmed cloak and bonnet and ordering their meal, she glanced at the other occupants. Her gaze came to rest on a foreign woman and child seated across the room. She was conspicuous in the silk tunic of an Indian lady and she was trying to coax the child of the same race to eat. She was perhaps nearing thirty. A purple silk scarf was wrapped around her head, framing and half-covering her face. She appeared to be ill at ease, her eyes darting around the room and constantly looking towards the door.

Rosa’s observations were interrupted when food was brought to them, but she did notice the gentleman who came into the room and went to sit at the same table as the foreign woman. His eyes flicked around the room. They met Rosa’s briefly and without undue interest, then moved on.

Distracted, Rosa found herself staring at him. She judged him to be about thirty years of age, and he was tall and impressive—over six foot and lean of body—in the athletic sense. His skin was a golden olive shade—almost as dark as those people of mixed race on her island home. His hair was near black and thick, but it was his eyes that held her attention. They were piercing and ice blue, darkly fringed with lashes beneath fiercely swooping brows.

Unlike her sister and most of her friends Rosa was not a romantic at heart, but she thought him to be the most handsome man she had ever seen. He had an unmistakable aura of authority about him, of forcefulness and power. He also had an air of unease and the deep frown that furrowed his brow told her he didn’t appear to be in the best of moods. Her attention was diverted when Dilys was suddenly overcome with a fit of sneezing. The man shot a glance of irritation in their direction before concentrating his attention on the boy.

Having eaten and eager to be on her way, Rosa left the inn. Dilys excused herself and disappeared into the ladies’ retiring room. The yard was busy with carriages and people alighting and some setting off. Holding her skirts free of the puddles, she pushed her way through the people mingling about. The woman and child she had seen inside the inn were among them. Rosa heard the sound of hoofbeats and could feel them pounding the ground. She saw the crowd break up and part and then she saw a coach and four careering madly towards them.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement next to her and two hands seemed to leap out of the crowd beside her. The next thing she saw was the little boy suddenly propelled into the path of the horses. Without conscious thought she leapt forward and grasped the child, pulling him back before the horses galloped past and came to a halt. The child began to cry and the woman, who had been distracted and was looking the other way, turned back and took his hand.

‘What are you doing? You must be more careful.’

The woman spoke crossly in a voice whose faintly sing-song intonation alone betrayed the fact that it was not an Englishwoman who spoke.

The dark, frightened eyes of the child overflowed with tears. ‘I—I was pushed,’ he cried. ‘Someone pushed me.’

The woman focused her attention on Rosa. On seeing the flush on her face and her closeness to the child, she immediately assumed Rosa to be the guilty party, having no idea that she had just saved the child from being trampled to death. She was unable to truly comprehend what had just happened but the look she cast Rosa was cold and accusing.

The small, silent boy, who now had tears streaming down his cheeks, stared up at her, clasping the Indian woman’s hand. He was a strikingly attractive child, his Indian ancestry evident in his features and his jet-black hair. What entrapped Rosa more than anything was the compelling blackness of his eyes. They were large and widely spaced and fringed by glossy lashes. The woman began to drag him away, but not before Rosa had heard the child say in a small, quivering voice, ‘I was so frightened.’

Then the man she had seen inside the inn stepped between them and gently brushed away the child’s tears while bending his head to hear what the woman had to say. They spoke together in a language Rosa did not understand. After a moment he stood up straight and looked at Rosa, anger blazing in his eyes.

Some deep-rooted feminine instinct made Rosa’s breath catch in her throat at being confronted by a man of such powerful physical presence. He had an expression of strength and marked intelligence. His eyes drew another’s like a magnet to a pin. They were so full of life, so charged with the expression of their owner’s awareness. Unexpectedly, she found herself the victim of an acute attack of awkwardness and momentarily at a loss for words, for in such close proximity, his overwhelming masculinity seemed more pronounced. When her eyes locked on his she was quite unprepared for the effect he had on her—her pulse seemed to leap. With his piercing blue eyes and his rich dark hair, he was an extremely attractive man.

‘The child is unhurt—’

She was brusquely interrupted. ‘No thanks to you.’

His words had an aggressive ring to them. Bright colour flamed in her face and her slender figure stiffened and drew itself erect. She stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

He looked at her full in the eyes, fixing her with a gaze of angry accusation. ‘I realise that your carelessness may have been accidental and if that is the case then I advise you to be more careful in the future.’

His condemnation was unnecessarily severe. She thought his anger had been brought about out of concern for the child, but she would not excuse his rudeness. ‘I would be obliged, sir, if you would voice your unjust accusation in a more temperate manner and apologise.’

The young woman’s anger and animosity might at any other time have amused William and, looking into a pair of eyes the colour of green moss in which gold and brown flecks shone and seemed to dance about, he might have taken time to admire her slender form and the flawless beauty of her face beneath the high-brimmed silk bonnet, but now, his major concern being for the child, he did not smile. His temper was not improved by her bold attack, which caused his lean features to darken and his lip to curl scornfully across even white teeth.

‘And I would be obliged if you would see fit to mind your own business.’

‘That is exactly what I was doing and from what I have witnessed, sir, I would advise you to mind yours. It may have escaped your notice, but the inn yard with horses and carriages coming and going is a dangerous place to be for a young child.’

William’s jaw hardened and his eyes snapped fiercely as he fixed her with a savage look. There was a murderous expression on his face and it was with a great deal of effort that he restrained himself. ‘You are an extremely outspoken young lady—too outspoken for your own good.’

For a long moment he stared at her hard, then turned away, but Rosa could feel his contained anger as he stepped aside. The look he had given, cold and dismissive, had sent chills up her spine.

‘Not usually,’ she replied, refusing to be so rudely dismissed. When he turned and looked at her once more she met his eyes with a cool hauteur that belied the anger mounting inside her to match his own. ‘Only when I find myself in the presence of someone as insufferable as yourself. Your accusation that I pushed the child—accidental or otherwise—into the path of the horses was harsh indeed. I did neither.’

‘Her nurse tells me otherwise.’

‘Then she was mistaken. She had taken her eyes off the child and someone from the crowd pushed him. I witnessed what happened with my own eyes and reached out just in time to save him from being trampled to death. So you see, sir, you might have made certain of the facts before accusing me. Your time would be best spent seeking out the real culprit.’

For a moment he appeared to freeze as he absorbed her words. ‘Someone else pushed him? You saw who it was?’

‘No, I did not. My whole attention was on the child. I do not know you, sir, but someone must have a very deep grievance against you to want to hurt the child.’

‘That may be so, but I will decide that. You are a stranger. Do not take it upon yourself to assume. Is that understood?’

Rosa stared at him. How dare this man speak to her in this condescending manner? She was so taken aback by his rudeness she could hardly speak, but when she did so it was with a fine, cultured accent like frosted glass. ‘You, sir, are the most insufferable, rudest man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Is it your habit to attack those who have done you a kindness?’

William’s face paled significantly beneath his dark countenance, although he was furious with himself more than with her for he seldom betrayed his feelings in this manner. He had misjudged her, he could see that now, but before he could reply to her cutting remark she had turned on her heel. He caught her arm, halting her, his eyes doing a quick search of those around him.

‘Not usually. I urge you to think back. It is most important that you do. Did you by any chance manage to see who it was?’

‘No, I did not. I cannot help you.’ Her chin lifted haughtily. ‘Now please let go of my arm.’

Immediately he dropped his hand. ‘In that case there is nothing more to be said.’

Realising that she was being dismissed, Rosa stepped back. ‘You are right. There isn’t. I expect it is beneath you to offer an apology.’

William gave her an uneasy glance, well aware that she, too, might have been hurt had she not stepped in to pull the child out of the way of the horses and that she was probably scared out of her wits by her show of bravado. ‘If I have offended you, then I beg your pardon. Are you harmed at all?’

‘I am perfectly all right—not that it is any of your affair,’ she remarked, still too angry to be mollified by his apology. ‘Good day, sir.’

Turning on her heel, she hurried towards the waiting coach, relieved to see Dilys already inside. She had no idea who the man was and handsome though he was, that was the only thing to his credit. He was exceedingly rude. She did not suppose she would see him again and she thanked God for it. But, rude though he might be, one thing was certain—she was hardly likely to forget him in a hurry.

Before climbing inside Rosa looked back at the foreign woman, feeling that her show of ill temper might be a refuge from fear. But fear of what? she wondered curiously. Turning away, she saw a man backing away into the crowd. He, too, was foreign, of Indian origin, she thought as she noted his brown face and long tunic-like coat and European trousers, both in black. She felt his stare. There was a stillness about him, a silence, that was entirely menacing. She felt the hairs stand up at the back of her neck. She was taken aback by the ugliness of his expression—a scowl of such concentrated venom that made her draw back.



William’s unease about what had just happened failed to lose its grip. His face betrayed very little of the emotions swirling through his body and his eyes remained impassive as he made a silent observation of the scene around him. But rage flooded through his veins as he thought of the danger that had presented itself to the child. His jaw hardened. The complexity of his emotions exasperated him. At a time when he should be focusing on his new role in life and trying to keep the Ashurst estate from being sold off, he was finding his time taken up protecting Dhanu. He was seeing danger in every shadow. That he had been followed from India he was certain, but he had thought he’d thrown them off the trail in London. However, if what the young lady had told him was true, then it would appear he was mistaken.

Suddenly he felt as if everything was spinning out of control. He had promised he would keep Dhanu safe, yet he felt as if he had just stepped into his worst nightmare. Slowly, carefully, he took a deep breath. He must not allow this to prevent him from thinking straight. His intelligence, his clever mind, which he had developed during all his years as a soldier, was his greatest asset. If he was to outwit this threat and keep Dhanu safe, then he must use his mind to do it. But, he thought, glancing around at the jostling crowd, how did one arm oneself against a foe that had no face?

Guilt overwhelmed him when he considered his ill-mannered treatment of the young woman. Her skin was golden. That surprised him, for most of the female population in England prided themselves on their milky-white complexion and took precautions to protect it from the sun. He had failed to do the decent thing and apologise properly to her. Beginning to feel a sense of shame for his unforgivable conduct and wanting to right the wrong he had done her, he turned to walk to her carriage, only to find it disappearing out of the inn yard.



Tense and irritable, Rosa suffered what remained of the journey in silence. The encounter with the stranger and the intended harm to the child had affected her more than she realised. Who was he, she wondered, and what was his association to the Indian woman? He spoke her language, which suggested that he had spent some time in India. She told herself that it did not concern her and tried putting it from her mind, instead concentrating on her arrival at Fountains Lodge. She managed to put it to the back of her mind, but she could not disassociate her personal feelings altogether.

Her thoughts turned to Clarissa and her distress at being forced to wed the Earl of Ashurst. Rosa knew what she was going through. She could empathise with her, for had she not lost her own love, Simon Garfield? His death had been final. It need not be like that for Clarissa. Andrew was not dead. Rosa closed her eyes, close to tears. Angry and emotional, everything inside her wanted to reach out to her dear sister, knowing how traumatised she would be if she was forced to go through with this marriage. Rosa felt she needed to help her defenceless sister, but to do that she would have to stand up to their grandmother. Amelia Ingram was a formidable lady, but she also suffered ill health and Rosa had been deeply concerned about her when she had seen her in London. She was worried that her grandmother wouldn’t be strong enough to take on the task of arranging marriages for Clarissa and herself.

On a sigh she leaned her head against the cushioned upholstery and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift back to Antigua and Simon. What they’d had had been sweet and gentle, their relationship happy and fun loving. His sunny smile and dark brown eyes were imprinted on her soul. His death on a fishing trip had been a blow she had believed she would never recover from. She had successfully repressed her feelings for him, but at times like this, they rose to the surface. It was impossible to stop loving someone just because they had died. The pain of her lost love was still there and she knew it would be a long time before she was truly able to say it didn’t hurt so much.

The coach made good speed, the horses moving briskly through winding, narrow roads overhung with branches as they neared Fountains Lodge. With Clarissa, she had been to England only once in her life, when she had come to Berkshire for an extended visit. The surprising thing when they neared the house was how familiar everything seemed, from the unfolding landscape and the villages they passed through, to the impressive Ashurst Park in the dip of a valley, the sprawling ancestral home of the Earl of Ashurst. They passed the gilded, tall wrought-iron gates which carried the Earl’s crest. The house could not be seen from the road, but on her rides she had looked down on it from the surrounding wooded hills.

Soon Fountains Lodge, a fine seventeenth-century manor house, came into view. Set back from the village of Ashurst, it was a spacious house, east of which were outbuildings and stables arranged around a sizeable courtyard. The Ingram family had built it and remained in possession since. Apart from Amelia Ingram’s maid and housekeeper, who had their own rooms, the staff needed to run the house lived in the village.

On reaching Fountains Lodge, Rosa strode into the hall with a winning smile for the hovering servants while removing her bonnet and shaking out her bright chestnut mop of curls, which rioted in a wild explosion about her head.

‘Hello, Grandmother,’ she said when the elderly lady entered the hall, her cane tapping the tiles as she walked stiffly forward to welcome her granddaughter. Elegant with a regal bearing, at seventy-five she was a small fragile woman. Arthritis and the years had worn away the muscles of her youth, leaving behind a shell of a woman. Her aloof, unshakeable confidence and bearing came from living a thoroughly privileged life. Being a small frail lady, it was difficult to believe she could be so formidably assertive.

‘You’re here at last and about time, too.’

‘It’s good to be here. How are you, Grandmother?’

‘Better now I am home.’

Amelia cast her eye over her younger granddaughter, knowing she would have her work cut out if she was to see her married in the near future. Rosa’s manners were unrefined and, unlike Clarissa, she knew nothing about genteel behaviour. She was a wild child, as wild as could be. She was intelligent and sharp-witted. She remembered her as being a problematical child—a constant headache. She was also proud and wilful and followed her own rules, but Amelia would not concede defeat.

‘We expected you some three days ago. I trust Clara was feeling better when you left London?’

‘She was much improved and sends her love to you both. But I’m here now and it’s lovely to see you again.’

Sweetly Rosa kissed her grandmother’s cheek before going to Clarissa, who followed in her grandmother’s wake. There was an almost translucent quality about Clarissa. As sisters they were not unalike, apart from the colour of Clarissa’s eyes, which were blue, and her hair, which was a light shade of brown. But where Clarissa was of a gentle, placid nature, Rosa was more spirited and inclined towards downright rebellion when crossed, with a wilful determination to have her own way. She was two years younger than Clarissa, but she always felt the eldest. As a result, without any parental control, Rosa had a strong sense of responsibility towards her sister. The sisters hugged one another, uttering little cries of welcome and pleasure. At last they drew apart.

‘I’ve looked forward to your coming, Rosa. I imagine Aunt Clara was reluctant to let you leave.’

‘She was, but she hopes to see us soon when she comes here for your wedding.’ Clarissa’s smile faded, making Rosa wish she had never mentioned it.

Amelia tapped her cane on the floor. ‘We have much to do if Clarissa is to marry our neighbour, the Earl of Ashurst.’

‘I shall do all I can to help with the arrangements. I like to be kept busy.’

‘I intend to see that you are—with matters concerning your future role in life. I haven’t forgotten that a husband must be found for you when Clarissa is settled—although I realise how difficult and unyielding is your nature.’

‘Father would doubtless have agreed with you. He ever despaired of me—but the same could not be said of Clarissa,’ she said, reaching out and squeezing her sister’s hand affectionately. She was worried about her sister, who seemed to have lost all her usual vitality. ‘In his eyes you could do no wrong. But where I am concerned, Grandmother, I am in no hurry to wed. I am not like my father. I am a realist. I can see things for what they are and I know I will never be accepted into the upper echelons of the aristocratic society my father aspired to. He could never see that.’

Their father had been known on the island of Antigua as a hard, authoritative man who worked long hours on his plantation and fully expected everyone else to do the same. Unfortunately, the authority he showed in his working life did not produce the same results in his younger daughter, who was known for her lack of discipline and her inclination to defy his direction, which did not apply to his elder daughter, who was a credit to him.

‘You are right, Rosa,’ her grandmother remarked, ‘but nevertheless he was your father and you must respect what he wanted for you and Clarissa.’ There was a hoarseness in her voice that told Rosa of her grandmother’s inner grief over the death of her only son. ‘He may be dead, but you have a duty to abide by his wishes,’ she reminded Rosa, as she did every time Rosa broached the matter. ‘It was his wish that you come to England, where you will be taught the finer points of being a lady—and I shall see that you do if I expire in the attempt. And despite what you have just said, a title will open many doors that will otherwise remain closed while ever you remain plain Miss Ingram. God willing, I will see you both suitably settled before I die.’

Rosa swallowed down the lump in her throat. How difficult life had suddenly become and how difficult the transition had been for her to leave her beloved Antigua and come to England. ‘I will try not to be a disappointment to you, Grandmother. I will try not to let you down.’

She spoke truthfully, for she really didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother or upset her in any way, but she was determined to have some say over her future.

Rosa, always intuitive to her sister’s moods, looked at her, her brow creased with concern. Not until they were in Rosa’s bedchamber and Clarissa had closed the door did they have the chance to talk.

‘What is to be done, Rosa?’ Clarissa said, thankful that she had her sister to confide in at last.

‘I think you speak of this marriage to the Earl of Ashurst. What can be done, Clarissa? Grandmother is adamant that the two of you will wed.’

‘But I don’t want to marry him,’ Clarissa cried tearfully. ‘He is a stranger to me.’

‘You will soon get to know him.’

‘But I don’t want to get to know him—not now. Not ever. I cannot go through with it. I love Andrew. I love him so much it hurts. I have never known such love—such sweetness...’

Rosa listened as her sister seemed to shine, her eyes brightly lit with adoration as she continued to speak of her love, her passion for Andrew. ‘Then, feeling as you do, you must speak to Grandmother.’

‘I’ve tried, but she refuses to listen. I cannot think of a life without Andrew. I cannot live without him,’ she murmured despairingly.

Rosa sighed. Never had she seen Clarissa in such a state. Alarmed by this, she sat on the bed. Feeling a great need to protect her, she took her hand and drew her down beside her. ‘Listen to me, Clarissa. She cannot force you to marry the Earl. You are twenty-one. You have a perfect right to decide who you will and will not marry. You must make her understand that you are your own mistress now. How does Andrew feel about all this?’

‘He loves me as I love him. B-but he will not marry me without Grandmother’s blessing.’

Rosa did not need convincing. Andrew’s adoration and the gallantry he showed towards Clarissa when they were together were plain for all to see, but because his family were planters in a small way, Grandmother had refused to encourage the relationship and had departed London as soon as a meeting had taken place between the Earl of Ashurst and Clarissa.

‘What is he like—the Earl?’

‘To be quite honest we were together no more than a few minutes. He had another engagement and his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Oh, he is handsome and quite charming—in fact, I am certain there is not a woman in the whole of England who would not welcome a rendezvous with him. His lineage is impeccable and he has distinguished himself in India...’

‘But?’

‘He is not for me.’ Clarissa looked at her sister imploringly. ‘In truth, he is so—so excessively male and formidable. He radiates a force and vitality that scares me to death. I cannot possibly marry such a man.’ Sighing deeply, she looked down at her hands in her lap. ‘How foolish you must think me. You, who have never been afraid of anything or anyone in your entire life.’

Rosa sighed, for Clarissa spoke the truth. Clarissa was quiet and self-effacing, while she was too outspoken and never afraid to voice her own opinions, of which she had many—from any subject that was topical at the time to slavery, which had been a constant irritant to her father since the smooth running of the plantation depended on slave labour. He was forever chastising her, telling her to stop going on about matters which did not concern her and of which she knew nothing.

Should Clarissa marry the Earl of Ashurst, not only would he have sweet and gentle Clarissa to run his home, grace his table and warm his bed, but he would be in possession of a large portion of her father’s considerable assets to repair his fractured estate. Their grandmother was right in one respect. With such an inheritance they would become prey to every fortune hunter in London. Better they were settled in good marriages.

‘I wish I could think of something comforting to say that would alleviate your fears, Clarissa, but do not be too downhearted,’ she said gently. ‘Who knows what the future holds? Why, if the love between yourself and Andrew is as deeply committed as you say it is, then when Grandmother realises this and sees that you will be happy with no other, then maybe she will relent. When Father gave Grandmother control over us he was only doing what he considered best. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. She wants to make quite sure we are settled and everything taken care of before—before she...’

Something in Rosa’s faltering tone caused Clarissa to look at her sharply. ‘Do you think she is very ill, Rosa?’

Rosa nodded. ‘There is no denying that there is a frailty about her and I noted when we were in London that there are times when she appears to suffer breathlessness and a great deal of discomfort.’

‘She does tire easily.’

‘But you must not let that stop you from telling her how you feel—that you cannot marry the Earl of Ashurst.’

‘I know I should feel honoured—and I am—but I would give all my prospects to anyone who would take them from me...simply to marry Andrew without the kind of wealth we have.’

‘The Earl does not have our wealth, but marriage to you would change all that,’ Rosa retorted coldly, feeling some resentment towards the Earl of Ashurst. What manner of man was it that would take a wife merely to pay off debts incurred by his cousin and to repair the neglect to his estate? She could feel nothing but contempt for a man who would marry a woman for the size of her dowry rather than for the woman herself. And who was to know that he wouldn’t do the same as his erstwhile cousin and squander his newfound fortune?



Lying in her bed and thinking about Clarissa, Rosa was deeply unsettled by her concern for her sister. What was to be done? If only she could find a way to circumvent her grandmother. There must be some way to stop Clarissa marrying a man not of her choosing. The more she thought about it a plan began forming in her mind, a plan so shocking she feared to enlarge on it. It caused her heart to pound so hard she could scarcely breathe, for it was a plan no gently bred young woman would dare think of, let alone consider.

Yet the more she thought about it the more she fixed her mind on the plan and, with a cold logic, let it grow until she could think of nothing else. At one stroke she had presented herself with an answer to Clarissa’s problem.

She would marry the Earl of Ashurst instead of Clarissa.

To contemplate marrying a man she had never even met surprised her—indeed, it sent a chill down her spine, but it did not shock her. If there was a way of helping Clarissa, then she would do everything in her power to do so. Clarissa said the Earl was handsome—at least he wasn’t in his dotage so she would have that to be thankful for. However, the biggest obstacle was her grandmother, but she need know nothing about what she was planning until she had been to Ashurst Park. She would take a closer look at the Earl of Ashurst’s noble pile to give her an insight into the house and its owner, to see what awaited her if she went ahead with her plan.



After breakfast two days later, relieved that her grandmother was still in bed—she never left her bed before mid-morning—without a word to Clarissa of what she was to do, she left the house. She was dressed in her best riding habit. The colour was dark blue, the jacket cut tight in at the waist, to slope away at the sides, the ensemble set off by a jaunty feather-trimmed hat. There was no sign that she had spent a sleepless night wrestling with the wild plan she had conceived. But her delicate jaw was set with determination.

Feeling deeply sad for Clarissa, she was prepared to sacrifice herself. So what did it matter that the Earl of Ashurst was a stranger to her? Whoever she married would not possess the qualities Simon had. She would never forget what had happened to Simon, but she must put it behind her if she was to forge a new life for herself here in England. It was important to her that she rediscover something within herself, something she had lost the day he had drowned. She would love to fulfil her desire to do something more worthwhile with her life, for she would dearly like to become involved with Aunt Clara’s charities and help underprivileged children, but since that was to be denied her then she was pretty confident that she would be able to persuade the Earl of Ashurst to marry her and he would be well rewarded for it.

The Berkshire countryside was lush and green, with the sleepiness of late summer. Pausing on a rise, she looked down into a gently sweeping basin, where the gracious Ashurst Park was situated in what she thought was a pastoral paradise. It took her breath away, for it was the most beautiful house her eyes had ever beheld. Facing due south, it sat like a gracious queen in the centre of her domain. It had been built in the sixteenth century in the classical style of Brittany in France, which had been a fashionable form of architecture at the time. It stood among tall beech trees and oaks, guarding the brooding house like sentinels. Lawns adorned with flowerbeds and statues added to its beauty and further afield a rolling deer park stretched to the horizon.

A shiver crept along her spine. It was the same as she remembered, every detail. It was hard to believe that if Clarissa did marry the Earl of Ashurst, this beautiful house would be her home. Rosa’s heart warmed to it. She would not mind being mistress of such a beautiful, noble house and, as the Countess of Ashurst, whether she was accepted or not, she would be in the forefront of society.

Since Simon’s death, followed so soon by her father’s, and coming to England, she had existed in some kind of daze. Halting her horse and looking at Ashurst Park, she felt all that was about to change. Determined not to think of the impropriety of an unaccompanied lady visiting a bachelor’s residence, urging her horse on, she had not felt this energised for a long time. In some way she was back to being the old Rosa, headstrong and tempestuous and accustomed to having her own way.

But suppose the Earl wouldn’t marry her? Suppose, despite all the money that would come his way, he still insisted on marrying Clarissa? Then what would she do? As she clenched her jaw, her eyes took on a determined gleam. She wasn’t fool enough to think it would be easy, but she would make him want to marry her, she vowed.




Chapter Two (#u54a72797-1281-514b-a2cb-e93b11619e2c)


It seemed to Rosa that she was entering a new world as she rode through the wrought-iron gates. When the gatekeeper closed them behind her she continued along the winding drive. Riding slowly past the lake, she took a moment to pause beneath the leafy canopy of a great sycamore tree. A cascade of water tumbled down a hill into a deep pool on the other side of a gracious three-arched bridge which spanned the narrow head of the lake. The still surface of the water was broken by the occasional swallow diving for midges on the surface. A boathouse could be seen in a recess among the trees on the other side.

She breathed deeply, the summer smells wafting about her. A sudden glow warmed her heart. She decided there and then that whatever drawbacks the Earl of Ashurst might possess, she would be well compensated by the beauty of Ashurst Park.

Coming to a halt at the foot of a low flight of stone steps, she dismounted. As she looked about her, a young man she assumed must be a groom hurried towards her.

‘Is Lord Ashurst at home?’

‘Yes, miss. Would you like me to take your horse?’

‘Yes—thank you.’ She watched him walk away leading her horse before climbing the steps. When she stood facing the door, she experienced her first signs of genuine apprehension. As if on cue the door was opened by a middle-aged male servant attired in black jacket and knee breeches.

‘I am here to see Lord Ashurst.’

He nodded. ‘Who shall I say, Miss...?’

‘Ingram,’ Rosa provided.

Waiting for the servant to return and removing her bonnet, Rosa looked about the large panelled hall. It was sun filled, polished and scented. She stood in awe of her surroundings. Beautiful artefacts reposed on a gleaming table in the centre, and on the walls were paintings of long-dead family members in gilded frames. The house exuded an indefinable quality—a sense of order, centuries of happiness and disappointments, memories of men and women who had lived and breathed within these walls—all folded into the fabric. The house was living, breathing, but empty of life.

Her eyes shone and she felt a peculiar excitement. It was unlike anything she had felt before and she found herself ensnared, as if this wonderful house was trying to wrap itself around her. She wanted to claim it for herself—she felt it was part of her destiny.

An elaborately carved oak staircase rose on one side of the hall to the upper floors, forming a gallery. She was conscious of a small contingent of curious maids lurking there. Open to their searching scrutiny, she was aware they stole lingering looks down at her. She managed to direct a self-conscious smile at them, but her mind was braced on the meeting with the Earl of Ashurst.

The servant reappeared.

‘Lord Ashurst will see you now. Please come this way.’

Keeping her eyes straight ahead of her, Rosa followed in his wake along an assortment of corridors, taking note of everything she saw. The house was awe-inspiring and, despite the crippling debts that the Earl was desperately trying to meet, the atmosphere was of comfort and luxury, of elegance and a style of living she could never have imagined in her island home. The servant swept open a pair of carved oaken doors and stepped aside to admit her into the study, a comfortable, tastefully furnished room lined with books and discerningly furnished. Large French windows were open, the scent of freshly mown grass drifting in.

The servant closed the door behind him as the man she assumed to be the Earl got up from his desk with a welcoming smile on his face, clearly expecting to see Miss Clarissa Ingram. He halted in surprise, staring instead at a vaguely familiar, beautiful young woman wearing a stylish riding habit.

Rosa was equally surprised when she recognised him. In that moment she noticed the startling intensity of his light blue eyes and again she thought how extraordinarily attractive he was. His tall frame was clad in impeccably tailored dark blue trousers and coat and white shirt and neckcloth at the throat. He stood, his shadow stretching across the room. Then he was striding towards her. The room jumped to life about him as his presence filled it, infusing it with his own energy and vigour.

Her heart seemed to suddenly leap in her chest in a ridiculous way. ‘Oh! It’s you! You are the man I met at the inn the other day. Are you the Earl of Ashurst?’

Momentarily stunned, William continued to stare at her. His blood stirred as she came into the light thrown by the sun through the leaded windows. The young woman was a beauty, her hat dangling by its ribbons from her fingers, a riding crop in her other hand. The rich vibrancy of her chestnut curls framed a heart-shaped face and the green eyes beneath long dark lashes that had caught his attention previously held his gaze now. She had a healthy and unblemished beauty that radiated a striking personal confidence. There was about her a kind of warm sensuality, something instantly suggestive to him of pleasurable fulfilment. It was something she could not help, something that was an inherent part of her.

‘I am Lord Ashurst, the Earl of Ashurst.’

On discovering the identity of her hoped-to-be husband and recalling their contentious previous encounter, she remembered that as she had walked away from him he had made a strong impression on her. And now here he was and the irony of it was that if her grandmother had her way then he was about to become betrothed to her sister.

Her momentary shock gave way to a cold anger. ‘Had I known who you are I would not have come here. You were very rude to me.’

His mouth curled into a thin smile. ‘After spending my entire adult life as a soldier, Miss Ingram, I’m afraid I shall have to relearn the art of gallantry. But as a matter of fact, I agree with you. My behaviour towards you was unmannerly. Believe me when I tell you that my conscience smote me and I wanted to do the right thing and apologise to you properly, but when I looked for you, you had left. Can I offer you refreshment?’

‘No, thank you. I have not come here to make polite conversation, but on a matter of the utmost importance. I realise you are a busy man so I will be brief and take up as little of your time as possible.’

He lifted an eyebrow. Tilting his head to one side, he gave her his whole attention. ‘What brings you here with such urgency?’

There was something in the depths of his eyes that Rosa could not fathom. Blue and narrowed by a knowing, intrusive smile, they seemed to look right past her face and into herself. For that split second she felt completely exposed and vulnerable—traits unfamiliar to her, traits she did not like. His direct, masculine assurance disconcerted her. She was vividly conscious that they were alone. She felt the mad, unfamiliar rush of blood singing through her veins, which she had never experienced before—not even with Simon. Instantly she felt resentful towards the Earl of Ashurst. He had made too much of an impact on her.

‘I am Rosalind Ingram—everyone calls me Rosa. I have come to speak to you about my sister, Clarissa. I don’t quite know how to begin. I have never done this sort of thing before, you see, and...my grandmother knows nothing of this visit. When she does I will feel the full force of her displeasure, but it will be worth it if you agree to what I propose. I have come to ask your help. I realise it is very presumptuous of me, and of course you are quite free to refuse, but the matter is urgent.’

‘Is there no one else who can help you?’

‘No—I’m afraid not. If I had...’

‘Because of what transpired between us on our first encounter you certainly would not have come to me.’

‘No, that’s not right. I’m afraid you are the only person I can ask to help.’

A muscle twitched in his cheek and his light blue eyes rested on her ironically. ‘My curiosity is aroused as to why you have come here without your grandmother’s knowledge to visit a man you don’t even know.’

Crossing to the fireplace, he draped his arm across the mantel and turned, regarding his visitor with a cool and speculative gaze. He could not help but admire the way she looked. Her overall appearance was flawless and he was quickly coming to the conclusion that she would set the standard by which all other women have to be judged, at least in his mind.

Her hair had been arranged artfully about her head and several feathery curls brushed her cheeks, lending a charming softness to her skin. The appeal in her large, silkily lashed green eyes was so strong that he had to mentally shake himself free of their spell. Something stirred within him that he was at a loss to identify.



‘I am intrigued. Please—sit down,’ he said, indicating a chair placed at an angle in front of the fireplace. ‘Now, tell me, what can I do for you?’

Now she knew the identity of the Earl of Ashurst, Rosa’s regret at coming to Ashurst Park increased a thousandfold as she perched stiffly on the edge of the comfortably upholstered chair. Never had she felt so unsure of herself.

‘So, Clarissa is your sister. I thought there must be some connection. She is well, I hope?’

‘She is perfectly well—only...’

He waited a moment, studying her with those strongly arched eyebrows slightly raised. When she wasn’t forthcoming he prompted, ‘Only? Only what?’

‘She—she does not want to marry you and I recognise that I must lend her all my support.’

‘I see. Do you mind telling me why?’

‘Because she’s in love with someone else.’ Apart from a tightening to his jaw, his expression remained unchanged.

‘Then that is as good a reason as any. Why was I not told this earlier—and why has your grandmother not thought to inform me?’

‘I’m sorry. She was following my father’s wishes in arranging Clarissa to marry a man with a title. Clarissa has never defied our father, sir. She loved him dearly and understands perfectly why it was so important to him that we both make suitable marriages.’

‘And you have ridden all this way to tell me this?’

‘Yes. I—I thought you should know.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, nothing has been signed so there is nothing to bind us.’

‘You—will not pursue her?’

‘No, Miss Ingram, I would not do that. To force the issue when she is in love with another man would make her loathe me.’

‘If you discerned anything in her manner when you met in London—which, she has told me, was brief—you would know that she does not loathe you. Clarissa is the most gentle person you could wish to meet.’

‘That is the impression she gave me,’ he said, remembering that when he had met Clarissa Ingram how he had admired her refinement of character, her charm and sensibility—in fact, there was nothing about her with which he could find fault and he could not deny that he had been tempted by her grandmother’s proposition that she become his wife. But that had been in London.

As a soldier, he listened to his head and not his heart in all things. Nothing in his life was accidental or unplanned and everything was carefully thought out.

He’d agreed to consider his lawyer’s suggestion that he marry a wealthy woman, which would enable him to retain Ashurst Park, but his abhorrence to doing such a thing was as strong as ever. Miss Rosa Ingram’s revelation had come as something of a surprise to him and also a relief that he would not have to do battle with his conscience.

‘However, it is clear to me that your grandmother made the proposal without a thought to her finer feelings. It changes things considerably and has helped me with my decision. I will go and see your grandmother and tell her that I have changed my mind about marrying Clarissa—which is the truth. I would not contemplate marrying a woman whose heart is elsewhere.’

‘Not even to save your estate?’

‘No. Not even to save Ashurst Park,’ he answered with icy calm. ‘Since I agreed to consider marriage to your sister I, too, have had a change of heart. So you see, Miss Ingram, I am not as mercenary as you think.’

Taken by surprise, Rosa stared at him. ‘I see. What did you intend doing about it?’

‘I was going to see your grandmother to explain.’

‘But—I have come here to offer a solution to your problems.’

‘And how did you intend doing that?’

‘I—have come to offer myself in Clarissa’s place. I wondered if you would consider marrying me instead.’

His eyes flashed unexpectedly. ‘Good Lord!’ The words were exhaled slowly, but otherwise, he simply stared at her. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’

She tossed her head, causing her hair to shimmer. ‘I assure you I am quite sane.’

‘Are you serious?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘I am perfectly serious,’ she replied, thinking everything about him bespoke power and control. He was much too in command of himself to toy with.

‘Yes, you are,’ he replied coldly, ‘and the answer is no.’ It was an instant response. Unconsidered. Automatic. Already William could feel his pride and self-respect being stripped away bit by agonising bit. Her proposal unsettled him. The feeling was something complex and disturbing. Instinct told him he’d be best served not to prolong Miss Ingram’s visit, for he was quite bewildered by his own interest in this young woman. Her manner was forthright, but there was a vulnerability about her. She had no flirtatious wiles and her candour threw him somewhat, so what was it about her that disturbed him—and how was it possible for her to have made such a strong impact on him on so short an acquaintance? Her eyes seemed to search his face as if she were looking into his soul.

Suddenly he found himself wondering what it would be like to have her as his wife. Would she light up his life with warmth and laughter? Would she banish the dark emptiness within him? He caught himself up short, dispelling any youthful dreams and unfulfilled yearnings he had consigned to the past. He had experienced them once before and realised his mistake in the most brutal manner. He scowled darkly as he realised Miss Ingram was suddenly bringing all those old foolish yearnings back to torment him. He would have none of that. After his turbulent relationship with Lydia he had reconciled himself to a life of transient affairs, which satisfied and relieved his body and left his emotions intact, but he suspected that if he were to take Rosa Ingram as his wife she would be a threat to everything he had determined never to feel again. His hurt went too deep. However difficult his life had been since Lydia’s betrayal, he had not deviated from his determination never to fall into the same trap again.

What might this woman do to him if he let her?



Disappointed by his response, forcing herself to ignore the fluttering in her stomach, Rosa ploughed on before her courage and confidence deserted her. ‘Please—hear me out. I have given the matter a great deal of thought and I have decided that it is a solution that would suit us both. I should mention that my father left both Clarissa and me a substantial inheritance.’

‘My lawyer has made me aware of that. Whatever you have heard about me and expected to find when you came here, I am not a charity case, nor am I a beggar who is so impoverished that I will grab the offer of a proposal of marriage from a woman I do not know and sink to my knees with gratitude.’

‘Not for one moment would I expect you to do that. It would be ridiculous.’ Seeing how one well-defined dark eyebrow shot up in annoyance, she plunged bravely on. ‘I would like to point out that marrying me instead of Clarissa would make no difference to the money. A large dowry I am sure would make marriage to me palatable...’ She fell silent when he held up a hand and halted her.

‘Miss Ingram, let me assure myself that I understand you,’ he said, recovering from the shock her proposal had caused. ‘You are asking me to throw over your sister for you? Is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘You must excuse me,’ he said, controlling his ire with difficulty. ‘I have never before been engaged in such a conversation, and to be frank I do not know the rules of the game.’

‘Neither do I,’ she admitted. ‘But let me assure you that it is not a game, Lord Ashurst.’ Rosa flushed violently and stiffened with indignation. She refused to retreat now she had come so far. ‘I know it may sound mad to you, but it is not like that at all. You are not the first Englishman who finds himself down on his luck and required to marry a wealthy woman as an answer to his financial difficulties. I am not ignorant of the fact that in the upper classes large sums of money and extensive estates are involved in such marriages.’

With surprise, she was conscious that he was studying her with a different interest. She sat and returned his look. His expression did not alter, yet she felt the air between them charged with emotion. He cocked an eyebrow at her and for a moment it seemed as if he would agree, then he looked away.

‘You are very sure of yourself, Miss Ingram.’

‘I have always been sure of myself, Lord Ashurst. It is other people that often puzzle me.’ When he looked at her once more, his eyes hard and direct, she sighed. ‘You don’t want to marry me, is that it?’

‘Miss Ingram, I don’t want to marry anyone,’ he said, going to sit in a large winged chair opposite her, propping his right ankle on his left knee and steepling his fingers in front of him. ‘I find the manner of your offer a cold-blooded business arrangement—in fact, some might call it vulgar for a lady to discuss money matters and propose marriage to a complete stranger.’

Mentally chiding herself for lacking the poise and behaviour of the lady she had been brought up to be, Rosa lifted her chin, undaunted. ‘Yes, I suppose they would, but I have no time for such niceties. I came here to make you an offer since I have no one else to speak for me.’

‘You do have your grandmother.’

‘She does not always see things my way and I know she was hoping you would marry Clarissa.’

He was silent for a full ten seconds and then he gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘How old are you, Miss Ingram?’

‘I shall soon be twenty.’

‘I see. Why are you so intent on marrying me?’

Uncomfortable with both his question and the penetrating look in his eyes, Rosa tried to smile and make light of his question.

‘One of the reasons is that I have fallen in love with your house. One cannot fail to be impressed by it. Ashurst Park is beautiful.’

‘I cannot disagree with that. The fabric of the house is as it was when I was here as a youth. My inheritance is both ancient and beautiful, and I consider it a privilege to call it my home. Although,’ he said, his mood somewhat despondent and thoughtful, ‘in this present financial climate one cannot fail to observe unavoidable signs of wear and tear here and there. Countless tasks await me to be done in order to restore the estate to its former glory. I have not yet had time to discover the full extent of the neglect. The lawyer has kept on a skeleton staff even though there was no family member living here. According to my lawyer, a great deal of money is needed to put things right.’

‘Have you considered selling the estate and returning to India?’

‘I confess that it did cross my mind—but I considered it no further. I am bound by the ties of present and future relationships to the house of Barrington. I had a vision of my grandfather and his proud and noble bearing and of the long line of my forebears who suffered to preserve intact the honour and noble name of Barrington, who subdued their own lives and fought their own individual battles for that same sense of honour—some making the ultimate sacrifice in one battle or another. I owe it to them to see that Ashurst Park is made secure for future generations.’

‘Finding yourself in such dire straits, I am sure they would understand if you were to sell.’

He shook his head. ‘If I were to do that, then the Barrington ghosts would be justified in rising up in anger at my dishonourable deed.’

‘That is where I come in. You want a rich wife. I am available.’

Not a muscle flickered on William’s face. He was silent, looking at her hard, incredulously, as though she had suddenly changed before his eyes. His face instantly became shuttered and aloof. He looked her over carefully, as if to judge her for her worth, and appeared dubious as his brows snapped together and a feral gleam appeared in his narrowed eyes with angry disgust.

‘Contrary to what you might think, Miss Ingram, I cannot be bought. I am a man of honour and honour cannot be bought or measured in wealth. No matter how much money you may bring with you to shore up the walls of Ashurst Park, what makes you think you are worth it?’

Rosa stiffened her spine. ‘Now you insult me,’ she declared, a surge of anger rising up inside her like flames licking around a dry log, furious with herself to think she had been so stupid as to think he would accept her offer.

‘It is not my intention to give offence. Forgive me if I appear surprised, but I fail to understand why you would wish to marry a complete stranger. And why would you think I would agree to marry you? Since your sister is no longer available to me, there is nothing to stop me looking elsewhere for another heiress to marry if I so wished.’

‘Surely one wife is much like another if she comes to you with a fortune.’

‘I disagree,’ he replied, thinking that Miss Rosa Ingram would prove to be more trouble to his carefully held sensibilities than she was worth. ‘Although there must be hundreds of ambitious parents who would be only too ready to offer their daughters for an increase in position—a generous dowry in exchange for the grand title of Countess of Ashurst.’

Rosa looked at him directly. ‘I am sure you are right—which is exactly what my father was thinking. The choice is yours, of course. But, unlike Clarissa, I am not in love with another—so it is not as difficult for me to accept.’

‘Accept?’ His face might have been carved out of stone when he fastened his hard gaze on hers and there was a saturnine twist to his mouth. ‘I do not recall proposing marriage to you, Miss Ingram—or your sister, come to that.’

Lord Ashurst’s taunting remark flicked over Rosa like a whiplash. The hot colour in her cheeks deepened and her soft lips tightened as she exerted every ounce of her control to keep her temper and her emotions in check. ‘No, of course you haven’t. How could you? Where Clarissa is concerned I thought there was an understanding.’

‘No. Our meeting was brief. Nothing was decided.’

‘You must bear with me, sir. I have only recently come to England myself and I have much to learn. I frown upon marriages arranged without reference to the feelings of the bride—with sole regard to titles and the increase of family fortunes. When Grandmother has seen Clarissa settled in a marriage of her choosing, it will be my turn. An arranged marriage is what she intends for me.’

‘And your father, by all accounts. It is not my intention to be disrespectful towards your family, Miss Ingram, but from the little I know of him he set more importance to his daughters marrying a title than he did their happiness. Finding yourself in the same situation as your sister, how will you react if you do not approve of your grandmother’s choice of husband?’

Rosa’s face had taken on a youthful dignity as she looked at his directly. Her age and inexperience were evident, yet she was prepared to stand her ground to defend her father’s good name if required. ‘My father was a private man, Lord Ashurst, and benevolent, with a rational and cultivated mind. There was no one better.’

‘Yes—I am sure you are right and your loyalty towards him is to be commended.’

‘I have never defied either him or my grandmother. I loved my father and I love my grandmother dearly and understand perfectly why it is so important to them both that Clarissa and I make suitable marriages. But I will find it difficult to meekly submit to my grandmother’s rules as a matter of course, which is why I have decided to be my own advocate and make my own case. If I fail in this I will be completely helpless and defenceless before my grandmother’s determination to find me a husband of the nobility.’

‘No helpless female would dare to come all the way here—alone, I might add—and propose marriage to a complete stranger. A woman who can do what you are doing, Miss Ingram, is not helpless—or defenceless. Reckless, yes, but certainly not helpless.’

Rosa looked into his eyes, trying to read his expression. There was a moment’s silence and William watched her face with a slightly cynical lift to his eyebrows.

‘I salute your courage and your boldness. I feel this is your style—setting out on some impulsive adventure, with little thought of the consequences. I cannot for one moment believe you have thought it out properly. You are being a little selfish in throwing yourself at me, a stranger, daring me to take advantage of your offer. But have you not for one moment thought that you might be playing with fire? I will not satisfy your scheme.’

Rosa’s heart fell at his unexpected cynicism. She had agonised over the steps she had taken. Did he understand nothing of what she had said at all? ‘Whatever you think of me, my offer was well meant. If you think my coming here is nothing but a silly, reckless adventure on my part, then there is nothing more I can say to convince you that it is otherwise.’

William studied her gravely for a moment. ‘Perhaps you do have it all worked out. You are undeniably brave—and beautiful—and impetuous, with very little thought of the consequences of your actions. What you are doing for your sister is highly unusual, Miss Ingram—and commendable, though it leads me to question your motives.’

Rosa’s green eyes snapped with disdain and for a brief instant William glimpsed the proud, spirited young woman behind the carefully controlled façade. ‘I told you. Clarissa is in love with someone else. It would break her heart if she didn’t marry him.’

‘Then why put yourself forward? You didn’t have to. Your sister is twenty-one, old enough to make her own decisions. She could just walk away.’

‘Not Clarissa. Our father wanted the very best for her: marriage, title, everything he aspired to be himself—he always did have aspirations of grandeur—which was why, ill as he was and knowing he would not be around to see his wishes for both of us come to fruition, he placed us in Grandmother’s hands with the stipulation that she finds us noble husbands. Clarissa loved and respected him too much to go against his wishes.’

‘Your grandmother is a formidable lady.’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘So why me? If it is a husband you require, then surely London is full of gentlemen who would prove to be far less trouble than me—although in exchange for your wealth you would obtain a title if I agree to the marriage.’

‘Titles are meaningless to me. Besides, I know it is my father’s money that attracts them to me and nothing else. It would act like a beacon to every impoverished nobleman in England.’

‘Then I am no different from them—an impoverished lord who would be marrying you for your money.’

‘There is a difference. I chose you, Lord Ashurst. I see marriage to you and being able to reside at Ashurst Park a good way of investing in my own future.’

‘I see,’ William replied caustically, getting to his feet and turning from her. In silence he took a thoughtful turn about the room. He was feeling more humiliated and degraded than he cared to admit.

His immense fears as his lawyer had told him the extent of the estate’s insurmountable debts was deep-rooted, and the shadow of Lydia continued to haunt him, making it impossible for him to get on with his life with ease. She had been a bright and beautiful beacon in his world and he had found an untold happiness when he was with her. She had used all her witchery to captivate him, making him her willing, pliant slave. He had later come to deplore the fact that he had kept such a large streak of naivete in his make-up and had found it hard to grasp the guile behind the soft smiles and fond words. He had believed she loved him. How soft and persuasive her voice could be. He could not have guessed for a moment what weight of treachery it concealed.

It was strange that Miss Ingram’s presence and her proposal had brought what had happened with Lydia—that ultimate betrayal when she had thrown him over for someone else—back to him with each sordid detail. He stopped in front of her, knowing he was right to turn her down. ‘I am sorry, Miss Ingram. I cannot help you. I cannot make rash promises I may not keep.’

Rosa stared at his rigid stance. ‘I do understand how difficult this is for you, Lord Ashurst.’

Struggling to keep the irritation out of his voice, he said, ‘Believe me, Miss Ingram, no part of this dilemma is remotely easy for me. You have so much money that what you do should not be a problem. You’ve had life handed to you on a silver platter. Wealth gives you an advantage over me I don’t like.’

Rosa stared at him. A great wave of crushing disappointment filled her heart, banishing everything but her regret that she had been foolish to come to Ashurst Park and humiliate herself before this stranger. She averted her eyes. She had at least done what she could. But it was small comfort. She knew with rising dread that no one could push the Earl of Ashurst into any decision not of his own making. She realised how misguided she had been. For the first time since she had devised this wild scheme, she knew the real meaning of failure.

Her small chin lifted primly and her spine stiffened, and before his eyes William saw her valiant struggle for control—a struggle she won.

‘Then I suppose there is nothing more to be said,’ she murmured in a colourless voice.

William hadn’t missed the flare of temper in her eyes. ‘I’m afraid not.’

‘And you will visit my grandmother to explain about Clarissa?’

‘Of course. Thankfully nothing was signed so your grandmother can hardly sue me for breach of promise.’

Rosa cocked her head to one side, trying to see beyond his cool façade. ‘Is there something you do not like about my family—something you object to?’ Frowning thoughtfully, she said, ‘I wonder... You must know how my father became rich—the source of his wealth.’

‘My lawyer did make me aware of the facts.’

‘And that his plantation was worked with slave labour?’

He nodded. ‘I don’t imagine there is a plantation in the Caribbean worked any other way.’

‘And that concerns you?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact it does but it has nothing to do with my decision. Slavery is not something people in England are accustomed to. It is a shocking practice. To take a man by force from his native country, to be chained and taken across the Atlantic to be sold in the markets that deal in human flesh, to work the plantations without the right to call themselves men, is unacceptable.’

‘It may surprise you when I tell you that I agree with you completely. I have despised the practice ever since I was old enough to understand it. It is as much an abomination to me as it clearly is to you. I make no excuses for my father but I ask you not to judge him too harshly. It is a subject I argued constantly with him about. Had I the power and the means, I would have changed everything. However, that is clearly not an issue since you rejected my proposal.’

‘I am glad to know you share my views, Miss Ingram, but that was not the reason why I refused to marry you.’

Rosa’s sense of defeat was augmented by the knowledge, which had grown on her since their first encounter, that she had made a fool of herself in attempting to appeal to such a man as Lord Ashurst. He was hard and unfeeling, and all that was left for her was to retreat with what dignity she could muster. She was too proud to let him see that she was confused and disappointed by his rejection.

‘Then I will keep you no longer. Thank you for taking the time to see me.’

‘It was my pleasure.’

To know that she shared his views on the abomination of trade in human beings touched him deeply, almost weakening his resolve not to become involved with her in the way he had been with Lydia. But he would not allow it. Rosa Ingram posed a threat, a danger to his peace of mind, and he could so easily become enamoured of her—and become completely undone into the bargain. He had been there once and had no mind to travel down the same road twice. However, he could not fail to notice the pain and discomfort she was feeling and admired the dignity with which she had received his pronouncement.

‘One moment, Miss Ingram,’ he said. She had turned from him but paused at his request and turned and looked at him. He looked down at her with gravity in his eyes, but a half-smile on his lips. ‘I have my own reasons for refusing you which you can know nothing about. As yet I have not become fully acquainted with the estate and the tenant farmers. I still have much to consider and discuss with my bailiff and lawyer—but no matter. I have enjoyed meeting you and I wish you well. You are a woman of spirit, even if a little too impetuous.’

‘I feel that I must agree with you.’

‘You should not have come here today,’ he went on. ‘Not that I do not appreciate your visit—quite the contrary. But this is a bachelor establishment, something which perhaps did not cross your mind—perhaps you also did not realise that since I live here and I am a newcomer to the area and few people know anything about me, it is a very dubious bachelor establishment.’

‘Please do not concern yourself,’ she replied stiffly. ‘My action was entirely innocent and I am persuaded than my reputation cannot suffer, as a consequence, in the eyes of those people who know me, and those who don’t will never know.’

‘A woman of spirit indeed! I would not like to see you cowed by gossip.’

‘Lord Ashurst, I know well enough what my impetuosity and my meddling has cost me today and I would thank you not to rub it in.’

Her words brought a broad smile to his lips and, in spite of her anger Rosa caught herself wondering why a man with such an unpleasant character should be gifted with such a lovely smile.

‘Excuse me. I will leave you now,’ she said, making for the door.

‘I will call on your grandmother shortly.’

Neither of them spoke as they left the room and crossed the hall. Rosa looked squarely at the Earl as he held the door open for her to pass through, and as she met his gaze her small chin lifted and her spine stiffened. William saw her put up a valiant fight for control, a fight she won. She looked as regally erect as a proud young queen as she went down the short flight of steps and took possession of her horse the stable boy was holding. The boy held his hands for her booted foot, hoisting her atop her horse. Riding astride as he had seen no lady do since coming to England—normally they rode side-saddle—that was the moment William saw she was wearing skintight buff-coloured breeches beneath her skirt.

Rosa sat on her horse unmoving, as if she were some stone goddess, insensate but powerful. She gripped the reins in her slender fingers and stared back to where he stood in the open doorway.

‘I realise how concerned you must be about the state of the finances. My offer was sincere. I would like to help—if you would let me,’ she offered.

‘Thank you. That is extremely generous of you. I appreciate your offer but I cannot accept it.’

‘Not now, perhaps, but think about it.’ About to ride off, she paused when she remembered something. ‘Oh—there is something I forgot to mention which you may like to know.’

‘Which is?’

‘At the inn—when I was leaving—I saw the man who I am certain pushed the boy. He was mingling with the other passengers and looked extremely angry.’

William froze and then he was striding down the steps to where she was trying to settle her restless mount. ‘Are you certain?’

‘As certain as I can be.’

‘What did he look like? Can you describe him?’

‘He was of medium height, gaunt looking, with short, straight black hair and dark skin. The look he gave me made me thankful I was not his enemy.’

‘Was he alone? Was anyone else with him?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone else—but then, there were so many people.’ She jerked her horse round. ‘I must go. Good day, sir.’

Leaving the Earl staring after her as she rode away, she couldn’t help thinking that she had made things a whole lot worse. As she put a distance between her and Ashurst Park, something inside her, some hopeful light that had shone bright on her journey to meet with Lord Ashurst, faded and winked out of existence. But out of sheer pride she held herself tightly together against the disappointment and humiliation. She was sorry he had turned her down, but having such strong principles concerning slavery, she really could not blame him.

As soon as her grandmother had married Clarissa off she would be thrown onto the marriage market and she would be expected to go trustingly and placidly into the unknown. The man chosen for her might be old or ugly or both. The thought was intolerable. At least Lord Ashurst was a young man and handsome.

As it was there was nothing for it but to tell her grandmother everything. Her heart was filled with dread in anticipation of the condemnation she would ultimately receive. There would be no redemption, she knew that.



As Rosa rode away from the house, William let his eyes sweep over the wide parkland, narrowing them against the glare of the sun. Filled with deep concern for the boy, he prayed God that soon Tipu would have this matter with Dhanu resolved and he could return to India. He was inclined to believe what Miss Ingram had told him and he would ensure that every precaution to safeguard his well-being would be taken. The idea that someone was stalking him with every intent of permanently removing Dhanu awakened in him a dangerous, quiet anger.

He continued to watch Miss Ingram ride away, her hat tied loosely round her neck and bouncing madly against her back, only the ragged pulse that had leapt to life in his throat attesting to his own disquiet as he stared after her with mingled feelings of regret and concern.

As he turned and went back into the house he refused to be moved by her offer. Until his cousin’s death, he had been a man who had made his own choices and, as much as he would like to appease his manly appetites with the lovely Rosa Ingram, he would not be so easily manipulated. How could he like some lapdog blindly accept what she was offering without yielding his mind and his principles?

But she was far too beautiful for any man to turn his back on. It would be no easy matter banishing her from his mind. She was physically appealing, with a face and body he found attractive, but she was also appealing in other ways, with an intelligent sharpness of mind. He suspected on knowing her better she would possess a clever wit that he would admire, making her pleasant company and interesting to be with. However distasteful the prospect was, perhaps he should consider her proposal. After all, heiresses were few and far between.

As an only child, the times he had spent with Charles had been precious to him and his untimely death had upset him profoundly. He had loved his cousin like a brother and deeply regretted that he had been unable to help him when he had fallen into financial difficulties, which had driven him to take his own life. William felt honour-bound to make the estate prosper as it had in the past. It would be a massive undertaking but he would do it—not only for himself but for Charles. Perhaps if he agreed to marry Miss Rosa Ingram he wouldn’t come out of it too badly. It could be the answer to a problem he could see no other way of solving at this present time.



The noble certainty that she had been doing the right thing when she had set out for Ashurst Park had disappeared as Rosa rode back to Fountains Lodge. She felt abased in her own eyes. What she had done had been foolish in the extreme. She had acted impetuously, rashly and unthinkingly and most importantly without common sense in Lord Ashurst’s eyes, earning his derision and her profound dislike. He had been hard, cold and cynical and had done nothing to put her at her ease.

Thinking of all the things she didn’t like about Lord Ashurst was a barrier against recalling her own shortcomings, so by the time she reached Fountains Lodge she had worked herself up into a temper and a very thorough dislike of the man. She hoped she would not have the misfortune to meet him again in the future, but somehow she felt that she would.




Chapter Three (#u54a72797-1281-514b-a2cb-e93b11619e2c)


Rosa watched her grandmother’s sharp eyes narrow with disapproval, for perching on a chair in front of her she presented a wild, untidy vision. Her laced leather boots were smeared with mud and her skirts were creased, and Rosa knew her grandmother was not fooled, that she was painfully aware that underneath she was wearing the outrageous breeches she insisted on putting on when she went riding. But above it all there was a passion in Rosa that was so potent it changed the atmosphere of the room.

‘Did you enjoy your ride, Rosa?’ Amelia enquired, pressing a perfumed handkerchief to her nose as the smell of horses wafted in her direction.

‘Yes, very much,’ Rosa answered, shoving her untidy mop of chestnut hair back from her face, putting off the moment to tell her of her visit to Ashurst Park. ‘I always enjoy riding and the horse the groom selected for me excelled itself.’

Her grandmother’s gaze became pointed. ‘Are you feeling well, Rosa? You are very flushed.’

‘Yes—I am quite well. If my face is red, then it must have something to do with the exhilaration of the ride. But I—I didn’t sleep very well,’ she said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. ‘I—I am concerned about Clarissa and your insistence that she marry Lord Ashurst.’

‘You have no reason to be. It is my duty to stop her becoming involved with any man who cannot support her in a respectable lifestyle. Clarissa is no longer under age, I realise that, but it changes nothing. She must abide by your father’s wishes.’

‘Father would not want her to be unhappy. He would not force her into a marriage she did not want.’

‘Who is to say she will be unhappy? The Earl is an honourable man and Ashurst Park is a beautiful, noble house.’ She sat back in her chair with a determined expression on her aged face. ‘I am resolved that the decision I have made is the right one and will benefit Clarissa.’

With a worried, haunted look, as though carrying a burden too heavy to bear on her young shoulders, raising her head she looked at her grandmother, meeting her questioning eyes. She would have to tell her everything. It could not be avoided.

Rosa thought her grandmother was going to have a fit as she hesitantly told her what she had done. Her eyes never moved from her granddaughter’s face. She seemed unable to speak, to form any words, from between her rigidly clamped lips. When Rosa had finished speaking Amelia remained for a while in contemplation of her clasped hands. Her ashen face was set in lines of concern. Rosa respected her silence, stifling her painful anxiety.

Unable to contain herself any longer Amelia raised her eyelids and looked at her. Rosa shivered at the anger and disappointment in her eyes.

‘I am shocked, Rosa—deeply so. You had a plan, you say, one that would suit everyone concerned. It was a very stupid, thoughtless action to take. You had no right to take it upon yourself to do that. Lord Ashurst will never agree to such an outrageous idea.’

‘I know that now. He made it quite plain what he thought of it. Grandmother, I am so sorry.’

‘Being sorry is not enough. What you have done is outrageous. Among other things, to call on a gentleman uninvited and unaccompanied was disgraceful. Why on earth didn’t you take your maid?’

‘Dilys is still unwell. Besides, she does not ride. I told her to stay in bed until she’s feeling better.’

‘Then you should have taken a groom. The expensive education your father provided for you should have taught you about behaviour and comportment. You may not have been born into Lord Ashurst’s league, but you are still quality born with good breeding. And to offer yourself in marriage to a man who to all intents and purposes is about to become affianced to Clarissa is not to be borne.’

‘But he isn’t—at least he won’t be when he has told you that he has had a change of heart and will withdraw his suit.’

‘But why would he do that? Did Clarissa displease him in some way?’

‘No, not at all. He—he will not marry Clarissa knowing she is in love with someone else—and he has no wish to marry me, either.’

Amelia became quiet. She looked deflated. ‘I cannot blame him. He must think you’re too forward by far. At least he is honest. But until I have seen him and spoken to him myself, nothing is changed. You should not have gone to see him, Rosa, you should not.’

Having expected to be severely chastised, Rosa squared her shoulders. ‘I am truly sorry, Grandmother. I should not have gone to Ashurst Park without talking to you first.’

‘You should not have gone there at all. What were you thinking? To go there in the first place without prior invitation was an act of rudeness. Now what is to be done? What must Lord Ashurst think?’

‘He—he is going to call on you shortly. But—when I explained about Clarissa—he understands.’

Amelia looked at her hard, knowing just how single-minded she could be, how stubborn. God help her if ever she experienced the sheer driving force of passionate love—and the man it was focused on. Amelia knew how determined she could be, that when she had something on her mind she would have her own way at any cost, and if that kind of love touched her, she would not deny herself having it. Amelia also knew about the young man she had formed a deep friendship with on Antigua, that he had drowned and Rosa had been grief-stricken by his death. But that had been an adolescent love, the kind most young people experienced at one time or another, but not enduring.

‘I did not get the impression that Lord Ashurst was the kind of man to comply to the whim of a young woman he has never met.’

‘I know that now—and understand his reasons—but I had to try. All this is a quandary for you, I know, but it needn’t be.’

Amelia looked at her granddaughter with a keen eye. ‘Oh? You have the answer, do you, Rosa? I know you are sympathetic to your sister’s plight, but how can I let her wed that young man in London? It’s quite out of the question.’

‘But they love each other. Forgive me, Grandmother, but I must speak out,’ Rosa said softly, unable to remain silent any longer on the subject. ‘I know you have Clarissa’s best interests at heart—but she should not be forced into a marriage she does not want. She is feeling quite wretched about it all, knowing how much Father wanted her to make a splendid marriage—and you, too. If you insist on this she will not disobey you, but I know the last thing you want is to see her unhappy. Let her have her way and marry Andrew.’





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