“I love her, Demon. With everything I am…and everything I could be.”
CHAPTER 15
Rosie had been surprised when the rose-wearing man had helped her into a very fine carriage and politely climbed in after her. But she was even more surprised when he removed his hat—and she recognized the cut of his jaw and the curve of his lips.
“You! You are the man in the mask,” she breathed, scooting across the squabs as far from the blaggard as possible. “The blackmailer! The thief!”
His smile was a little rueful as he crossed one leg over the other with all the ease of a born gentleman. “I’m not, in fact, either.”
Why had she not realized how cultured and refined his speech was?
Likely because he had been pointing a gun at you!
Oh yes.
“I am never wrong about a face.” Rosie clutched at her overcoat, tucking it about her…less to warm herself, and more because it made her feel safer. She was confronting the man who had threatened to hurt Bull! “I recognize you from the Portrait Gallery, and from Alnwick. You tried to kill us.”
“There were no bullets in the revolver,” he assured her mildly, watching her with a bemused expression. “But yes, that was me. I was rather surprised and more than a little disobliged to be pushed through the ice.”
“Surprised?”Her anger giving her courage, Rosie sat forward to glare at him. “Disobliged! Bull almost died!”
He shrugged. “I am glad he didn’t. Aunt Eliza was irritated enough with me as it was.”
Aunt Eliza? “Whoareyou?”
The man hesitated for a moment, then dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “I am the Earl of Mistree.”
Wh-What?
“Why would you try to steal our portrait?” Rosie breathed, clutching the briefcase to her. “And blackmail?—”
“I am not your blackmailer, Lady Rose,” he announced with a sigh, as the carriage began to slow. “I was merely doing a favor for a beloved relative, something I am certain you will soon understand.”
Understand?Noneof this made any sense!
She pressed her lips together as they pulled up the drive of a modest estate. From the window, she could see rolling hills, a stable, a few outbuildings, and a manor with small wings and a grand portico.
And climbing up the brick on either side of the portico, framing the windows…were roses. Well. They would be roses again, come the spring. Their vines were bare and covered in snow, but Rosie recognized them for what they were.
“Where are we?” she breathed.
The unmasked, not-a-blackmailer, not-a thief, possible-earl, helped her down. “Welcome to Rosewood, Lady Rose. Jones will take over your care from here.”
When Rosie turned, it was to see a staid, elderly man holding the door for her. She thought she’d seen him before. But then again, everything was so confusing now. She clutched Bull’s briefcase and found herself hurrying toward him, anxious for answers.
“May I take your coat, Lady Rose?” the man asked, and as she turned over her outwear to him—as if this were a normal social visit and not a scandalous blackmailing!—Rose studied him. He seemed sofamiliar…
The butler gave a brief bow. “If you will excuse me, my lady.”
He backed toward the parlor, and Rosie found herself grateful for the moment’s reprieve. Her stomach was knotted, and the fact that none of this made any sense made it even worse.
Take deep breaths. What would Bull do?
Right. Bull had surely been in situations like this many times, and he’d come through fine.
Rosie winced, remembering the scars her fingertips had found on his body. Perhaps notfine.
Thinking of him really did help calm her, though. He was with her, in a way, was he not?
