He nodded, “It was all theon dit, unlike your revelations. Often times, you cannot trust what is said in the halls of White’s and Brook’s. There is rivalry, and there are rumors that spread.” He shrugged. “But it appears you have a direct source to confirm the rumors. Unfortunately.”
“I was envious of her, not long ago.” She said the words quietly, directed to the front instead of at him. Shame washed over her for having been jealous of her friend.
“Envious?” The surprise in his voice was unmistakable. She looked at him and shrugged. “When I found I was to be wed. I expected it all of my life. Still, knowing it would happen made me feel resentful of not having a choice in the matter. While Betsy is poor, I thought she had at least the choice to do as she pleased.” She shook her head. “And now she is going to be so far away, in Bedfordshire. If something were to happen, what would she do? London is far, Shropshire farther still.”
She sighed and shook her head. As much as she liked the idea of being at the vineyard, and of being alone with Christopher, it scared her that they would be even farther from Betsy, should something happen. “I must tell her what I have learned, but I fear it will only upset her.”
Christopher sat beside her, still holding her hand. He’d begun to gently rub his hand over the back of hers.
“Perhaps it is best to let her know you have heard rumors. Should Lord Portsmouth indeed make uninvited advances toward her.”
Rowena sighed. “If only there was a way to watch over her, to have her be near someone she could turn to. Some ally. Alas, the only people I know who are familiar with the Portsmouths are Margaret, who is pregnant and wields no influence whatsoever, and the Duke.”
She glanced up at Christopher and caught the way his eyes briefly widened at the mention of his rival’s name.
“Thornmouth?” he spat the name out like an over salted spoonful of soup. Rowena nodded.
“They are friends. We spoke of Betsy earlier, before I knew the true extend of Portsmouth’s character. He told me his friend has had four governesses in recent year. He assured me Betsy would be under his protection although he sounded amused more than concerned. And of course, he is nowhere near the Portsmouth’s Bedfordshire home either.”
Beside her, he let go of her hand and rubbed his temples. After a long moment, he looked at her, resignation written all over his face.
“I have a solution. One I do not like but one that is certain to put your mind at ease.”
She twisted toward him so they were face to face.
“You do? Faith, Chri–” she stopped herself. While he’d come to think of him by his Christian name, she’d not called him by it thus far. “Your Grace, that would be wonderful.”
“I am not certain that it is quite as wonderful as you think.” He sighed again, shaking his head as if he could not believe what he was about to say.
“As you know, the Duke of Thornmouth is on the Special Commission for the Cambridgeshire trials. Given that Lord Portsmouth is from Bedfordshire, he has a vested interest in the outcome of the trial. Perhaps it could be arranged to have him be placed on the council as well.”
Rowena thought about this for a moment. She’d heard all about the riots. The country appeared utterly divided as to what to do with them, and she’d heard about the fierce argument between the two Dukes at the House of Lords.
Beyond feeling pride at Christopher’s insistence to stand up and be heard, she’d not concerned herself with the matter more. But now, it all seemed to make sense.
“Since Lord Portsmouth and the Duke of Thornmouth are friends, I would imagine it would be no bother for the Duke to have his friend appointed. It would mean an extended stay at Cambridgeshire for Lord Portsmouth.Certainly, he would not bring his family there for the trials.”
Or would he? Even if he does, at least Betsy will be nearer to the Duke of Thornmouth, who might provide her with the protection he’d assured her of.
Rowena scratched the side of her head where her hair was beginning to stick to her skin with sweat. Once Rowena’s family returned home and the London Season was over, they would be close enough for Betsy to return home, should the need arise.
“It is splendid idea, Your Grace. I hate to ask Lord Thornmouth for anything at all for I do not wish to be in his debt, but I must, for the sake of Betsy.”
She glanced at Christopher. She could hardly believe that he would have suggested such a thing at all. He despised Thornmouth, she knew it by the mere way in which he looked at him. And yet, he’d all but encouraged her to turn to him for help.
She found herself surprised that this, his willingness to lose out on being the hero in order to save Betsy, made her feel even closer to him. She placed her free hand onto the inside of his forearm, feeling the strength of his arm and the smoothness of his skin.
“You are a good man, Your Grace. Atrue, good man and I am ever so fortunate to have met you. Even if we can never be more than what we are right now, I will count myself fortunate to have known you, to have been near you.”
He removed his hand from hers and cupped her face.
“We will be more than what we are now. We will be together every day until the end of our lives if it is what you wish. I will make it so, I declare. You will be my wife, the Countess of Westmond, not the Countess of Thornmouth. You will see. All you need to do is tell me that this is what you want, what you desire.”
“It is,” she whispered the words more so than spoke them out loud, hesitant still to let the true strength of her feelings be revealed. “It is what I want. I cannot explain how I feel for I have never experienced anything like it, but I know that when I am with you,I am alive. With him–” she shook her head as much as she could.
“Say no more, Rowena. You will be my wife. We will be together. I will find a way. Trust me.”
Before she could say anything else, he leaned forward and placed his lips on hers. She closed her eyes, losing herself entirely in their kiss.
