It was a minute or so before Rose dared to glance in Will’s direction again, but his chair was empty. Just his napkin had been left, scrunched into a ball.
In an adjacent room, a trio of musicians began to play to signal the start of the dancing. People used that as an excuse to escape the tension in the Great Hall and, no doubt, to be able to gossip more easily about the extraordinary scene they had just witnessed. Rose turned to Ernest to ask if he would like to join her, but he was sitting, staring vacantly, nursing his glass of wine, lost in thought and seemingly oblivious to her.
Rose entered her bedchamber, closing the door firmly behind her. She gazed at the soothing movement of the dancing flamesin the hearth. She didn't think she'd ever been so humiliated in her life. But, cocooned in her room, alone now, the entire evening seemed distant. The gossip in the ton was always fleeting. They'd quickly forget about Ernest's outburst. She imagined it was not his first.
She slid off each long, blue glove and laid them on her dressing table. Removing her diamond earrings, she laid them by her gloves before moving over to the padded chair by the fire to take off her shoes. Sitting down, she took a moment to watch the play of firelight across her damask silk walls and reflecting under the canopy of her heavy wooden bed. There was a light rap on her bedroom door, and she smiled. She had known Anna would come.
“Come in,” she called as she stretched her feet out in front of her, lifting them a little off the rug and pulling the hem of her dress up to her knees to expose her ivory stockings to the warmth. She laid her head back against the chair and closed her eyes. As she heard the door open and then close behind her maid, she said, “Thank the lord you are here. My feet are truly killing me, and I need one of your excellent foot massages, and I didn’t know where to start taking my hair down.”
“I am not sure how good my hairdressing skills are, but I can certainly give the massage a go.”
CHAPTERSIX
“Will!”
Rose jumped up, pushing down her dress and petticoats. He was standing at the foot of her bed, and she was acutely aware he had been staring at her stockinged legs. He raised his eyes to hers.
“Spoilsport,” he smiled.
“What do you think you are doing. You can’t be here. This is my bedchamber!”
Will looked at his own hand on the ornate bedpost. “I gathered that!”
She advanced on him.
“In all seriousness, you cannot be here.”
“There is only one ‘cannot’ here, Rose,” he said. It was evident from his slightly unsteady stance that he had had a few punch glasses too many. “Youcannotmarry Barrington.”
“Have you forgotten, sir, that you were the one who told me I should? And, we are already betrothed.”
“The man is a drunk and a tyrant.”
Rose watched as he screwed one of his hands into a fist but then relaxed it. “You have to admit it, Rose; you do make terrible decisions.”
She stared back at him, not lowering her gaze. He was looking at her just as intently, and then, with great deliberation, he began unbuttoning his dress coat.
“What are you doing?” She asked incredulously. He did not reply as he slid the unbuttoned jacket from his shoulders to hang over his arm, revealing his white linen shirt and white silk vest. He pointed towards the fire. “It is rather warm.”
Rose grabbed his coat and pushed it at his broad chest. “It won’t be. Outside. Go. My maid could come in at any moment.”
“No one will come.” Will laid the jacket over the end of her carved footboard.
“How can you know that?”
“Your maid believes you are dancing.”
“What about Ernest?”
“Is he in the habit of visiting your bedchamber?” Will arched one eyebrow.
“No!”
“Well then. But even if he was, it would be beyond him this evening. I left him cradling a drink with far more care and tenderness than I imagine he will ever show you.”
“What possessed you to even come up here? I am not decent!”
Will pushed himself away from the end of the bed and guffawed softly. “You are covered from head to toe, just as you were downstairs.” He circled around behind her to the other side of the bed, touching the golden drapes between finger and thumb. Then he trailed his hand across the silken coverlet.