“Good afternoon,” Bull announced in his most charming voice. “We have traveled up from London with the intention of meeting with Lord Tittle-Tattle.”
“Lord Tittle-Tattle is not at home,” the stately butler—for it was clear now they were speaking to a servant—proclaimed. “He does not accept visitors when he is working on his next book.”
Oooh, another book!Rosie opened her mouth to begin the flattering process, but Bull flourished his free hand, and several one-pound notes appeared. He waved it toward the butler.
“Are ye certain, my good man?”
The elderly man sniffed. “Verycertain.”
Rosie’s turn. “Please, my good man, would you mind checking with Lord Tittle-Tattle? I simply adored his book and was hoping to ask him a few pertinent questions.” She blinked innocently. “Would you tell him the Lady Rose Hayle is here to see him? My father, the Duke of Lickwick, would be so grateful to hear of your help.”
The change which came over the man was almost amusing, and she heard Bull stifle a little noise which might’ve been a laugh as the butler blinked, then leaned forward fawningly.
“Your father is the Duke of Lickwick, my lady?”
“Oh, yes he is,” Rosie said in her most feather-headed voice. “Did I forget to mention that? When one’s father is a duke, of course, it is so natural to be recognized immediately. Might we come inside? It is ever so cold out here,” she added with a shiver.
“Apologies, milady.” The butler’s demeanor couldn’t be more welcoming as he backed into the home, inviting them in. “I will alert Lord Tittle-Tattle to your presence, I am certain he will be honored by your gracious visit. Thedrawing room is this way.” He invited her toward a large room. “Your man may wait in the foyer.”
“Oh, no!” Rosie corrected with a tinkling laugh, knowing she had to try to get Bull into the room with Tittle-Tattle’s collection so they could both question him. “He is not my servant, but heismy man.”
Bull took that moment to step forward and offer a curt nod, his body language screaming irritation. “Mr. James Lindsay.”
Oh dear. If thebutlerwouldn’t even let them into the house until Rosie announced her relation to a duke, Lord Tittle-Tattle wasn’t going to see a mere“Mister.” So she reached out, linked her arm through his, and pulled him toward the sitting room.
There was only one thing to do. “James is my fiancé—traveling incognito, we do not like to mention his title on the road for fear of theft. I feel certain Lord Tittle-Tattle will be delighted to meet him,” she called over her shoulder to the butler as she yanked Bull inside. “Go fetch him, please.”
The door shut, and Bull swung on her. “Fiancé?”
Shrugging in apology, Rosie moved across the room to study a landscape hanging near the window even as her heart skipped a beat at the thought of actually being engaged to Bull. “I did not want you to have to sit out there. We could have claimed your brother is a duke, of course?—”
“Heisa duke,” Bull growled, scrambling in the briefcase. “But I introduced myself asmister. He’d know I’m a bastard.”
Since his illegitimacy had neverseemedto bother Bull—in fact, he often bragged that all it meant was that he had two separate families—she hummed in agreement. “You are a charming, delightful bastard, though. Besides, with the hint of a title?—”
His bark of laughter sounded surprised and he was grinning ruefully as he crossed to her. “I dinnae have a title. Here,” he hissed, thrusting a small box at her. “Put this on!”
“You want me to wear an ivory box?”
His movements brisk, Bull shoved the briefcase under his arm, opened the small box, and produced a gold ring with a small green stone. “Here.” He scooped up her left hand, yanked off the glove, and slid it onto her finger. “Just keep yer finger closed so he doesnae notice how big it is.”
“Actually…” Rosie flexed her fingers, then lifted her fingers to waggle them. Something strange twisted in her gut as she looked at it. “Actually, it fits perfectly.” She began to pull her other glove off, but not before she saw his slightly stricken look.
She wanted to ask about that but there was a commotion from outside, and when the door opened a stooped little man hustled in, she slipped back into her Flighty-Duke’s-Daughter persona and stepped forward to charm him.
“Lord Tittle-Tattle?” She offered her hand for him to bow over. “How utterly delightful to meet you. I am Lady Rose Hayle?—”
“The daughter of the Duke of Lickwick, yes, yes!” The short man blinked from behind ridiculously thick spectacles. “Have you come to offer sponsorship for my new book?”
Rosie managed not to blurt, “What?” in time. Instead, she blinked, her smile fixed in place, and pulled her hand gently from his. “Oh, I am certain something could be arranged.”
“We’re here to see yer collection, Lord Tittle-Tattle,” Bull announced, moving up to her side. “Ye have some portraits in particular mybetrothedis interested in studying.”
“Betrothed?” Lord Tittle-Tattle blinked down at her hand, then back at her face. “Studying?”
“Oh yes,” she breathed, trying to flatter him. “Iadoredyour first book, and am so excited for your next one.”
“Rosie is an art scholar, like yerself.” Bull slid his arm around her waist, his voice proud. “She speaks verra highly of ye.”
