“Rose is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on,” said Dorian honestly. “I hope she will let me take her portrait one day.”
“You’re an artist are you?” said the old man with interest. “Very good. Yes, Rose has looks that should be set down in paint, doesn’t she? You wouldn’t believe it now, but she takes after me.”
The Duke of Ravenhill smiled.
“I can see the likeness,” he remarked, looking beyond age and illness to once-clear blue eyes and hair that had been thick and blond in his youth.
“I was the most handsome man in London once,” Ambrose Williams chortled to himself. “As you are now, according to Rose.”
“She said that?” Dorian asked in surprise.
“Rose said almost exactly what you said of her,” Ambrose clarified. “You’re the most handsome man she has ever seen, apparently. Such mutual appreciation bodes well at the start of a marriage, doesn’t it?”
Dorian laughed and nodded. He had received so many compliments on his looks that they generally barely touched him. Knowing that Rose found his appearance so pleasing was welcome, however. It felt different.
“Rose hasn’t told me that to my face yet,” he said. “Deserved or not, I look forward to hearing it from her lips. The confidenceof someone shy is worth far more than any more easily given confidence, I feel.”
“You speak truly. Rose is a fine young woman and not so shy when she feels comfortable in someone’s company,” said her father affectionately. “Those who called her a wallflower and said she preferred books to men were not kind or congenial company for her, I believe. My daughter thrives on love. I am glad that she has found it.”
Dorian smiled back at Ambrose although his conscience was pricking him slightly once he realized he had fallen into some web of pre-existing deceit. The old man evidently thought that Dorian and Rose had been a love match and the rest of the family had played along with the idea. Likely that was even the reason for Rose’s compliment on Dorian’s handsomeness.
It made him feel like an imposter in some way although he himself had told no lies and engaged in no deliberate deception.
“You will look after my Rose, won’t you?” the Duke of Westvale asked suddenly. “I don’t believe I am long for this world and, of all my children, it is Rose who plays on my mind.”
“I promise you that I will always take care of Rose,” Dorian assured him, glad to be able to make a solid and simple promise that seemed to make the old man happy. “She is my wife now.”
It was a declaration of duty for Dorian, but if Ambrose Williams chose to see it as a declaration of love, he might have the comfort of that. In fact, Dorian would argue that he was likely to takebetter care of his wife than many men who professed themselves violently in love when they married.
Love was something dangerous, unpredictable and destructive of its own object. Dorian hoped it was something he would never have to encounter.
Chapter Twelve
In the carriage on the way home Rose felt sleepy and contented despite the cold. They had stayed at Westvale Park for dinner too, although her father had returned to his bed by then. How lovely it had been to be accepted back into the bosom of her family and to spend time laughing and playing with her brothers, like old times…
The good humor and understanding were largely Dorian’s doing, Rose understood and appreciated. She had been so nervous when they first arrived at Westvale Park. Edwin had greeted the Duke of Ravenhill with such icy reserve but Dorian’s charm worked on men too, she reflected. It could not all be based on looks and kisses. There was substance to her husband too.
“Oh, I am sorry!” Rose apologized, finding that her head had drifted onto Dorian’s shoulder as dreamy tiredness overcame her.
“Do not be sorry,” the duke said, putting an arm around her and pulling the blanket over both of them. “You have had a long day and I take no offense if you rest your head on me and sleep.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Rose relaxed and tentatively leaned against him once more, as if testing something. Was she afraid that he might do to her again what he had done in the library? No, although she even hoped he would, another time… On this carriage ride, while she rested, she sensed he would not touch her.
The warmth of Dorian Voss and the scent of his skin both radiated out and filled Rose’s senses. How very appealing he was! Yet, she need not do anything about this fact at the present moment. The attraction was abstract, paused, and could merely be enjoyed as she drifted into a half-sleep.
In that semi-conscious state, she thought again of the fruitless conversation she had tried to have with her mother over “bedroom matters,” as Josephine had called them, while the gentlemen enjoyed a game of billiards.
With Rose’s language so vague and Eugenia Williams’ mind focused more on her husband’s health than her daughter’s marriage, the question of whether married couples always had adjoining rooms only resulted in an explanation of how Eugenia and a night-nurse shared the duty of sitting up beside the Duke of Westvale’s bed each night.
An equally vague and more red-faced inquiry about expectations around children only produced an assurance that Edwin andMagnus were both very good about spending time with their father during the day.
After that, Rose had given up. She could hardly ask her mother if the illustrations in “A Wife in Every Port for Captain Henri”were anatomically accurate, and how men hid those strange appendages in their everyday clothes! No, she must find the courage to ask Josephine. Or Dorian, she supposed, before remembering with a sigh, that she had sworn not to ask him for anything.
As Rose sighed, she thought she felt fingers stroking her hair comfortingly. It might have been only a dream.
“Time for bed,” said the Duke of Ravenhill’s deep voice as the carriage rolled to a halt. “We are back at Ravenhill.”
Rose came fully awake with a long yawn, not really wishing to move from the warm cocoon of Dorian and the blanket but knowing she must. The cold air outside was a shock and Rose needed no encouragement to hurry inside on Dorian’s arm. After her nap, she was no longer tired and hoped that he might be in a mood to sit up and talk for a while.
