“Pity, that.”
“I made do. Glass can be built into a leaning bed on a south-facing wall,” she told him. “Why did you chase me? I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself home.” She nodded at a man emerging from the shadows. “My footman.”
He had in fact pursued her to see to her safety. Or so he told himself. “I haven’t seen you since December. I wanted a word. Where are you staying?” He took her hand in his.
She let him. A nod had her servant fading back, and she led him up a shadowed street. Joy rose in his heart at her trust. They came to a corner, and she indicated a well-lit hostel across the street. “My inn.”
He pulled her back into the shadows, wrapped one arm around her waist and kissed her well and firmly.
“What…,” she sputtered.
“That’s why I followed you. Unfinished business from your visit to Roseleigh. I’ve longed for it ever since.” He kissed her again more tenderly.
After a moment of hesitation, she responded, her hand coming up to slide into the hair at his temple. His exploration of her mouth grew more intense, and he ran his tongue across her lips until she opened to him. At his entry, she froze, and he stilled. Then she moved on a moan and began to imitate his actions. He leaned back against a brick wall and pulled her against him, his arousal tight against his belly.
When she gave a gentle shove, he loosened his hold but didn’t let go.
“You are kissing me on a public street,” she whispered.
“So I am. Thank goodness for darkness. But yes, this isn’t the place.”
She sighed and leaned her head against his chest. “This will never do.”
“Do you think your father would let me court you properly?” he whispered in her ear.
She stiffened and pulled away. “Never. Nor would your aunt and sister tolerate it.”
“They have naught to say about it. Neither does your father. You’re of age, are you not?” He cupped her check with his hand, startled to realize it shook. “We need to put an end to this ridiculous feud. Maybe I can convince the Rose Council to disallow red roses,” he said with a smile.
She started. “I hadn’t thought of that. It might work. No plain red or white. Perhaps a temporary ban. You might be able to convince them. Then I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
“Come back next June. I’ll show you then. I’ll be here whether I’ve succeeded or failed. We can talk again then. If you still want—”
“My dear Lady Margaret, you are no dewy schoolroom miss. You can tell very well that I want you. I will want you next summer too. But why wait?”
She kissed him then, a swift salute, before pulling back. “We’ll see how you feel next June. I have something to finish. It means too much to me. I need another year.”
“Another year.” He tried to rein in his galloping attraction. “If you need a year, then a year you shall have.”
He tried to pull her close, but she wiggled away. “If you start that again, I won’t leave. I’ll let you toss me over your shoulder and have your wicked way. But I’ll regret it. I know I will.”
He sighed deeply and tweaked a lock of her hair that had come loose. “I’ll give you your year, Margaret. But I will be waiting in York next June, and I’ll expect you to keep your word whether you succeed at what you’re doing or not.”
“I promise,” she whispered and darted across the street. Her loyal servant emerged from the shadows and followed her.
Henry turned on heavy feet to return to his so-called triumph and the Rose Ball.
Chapter Two
Summer faded intofall, and Henry still lay awake night after night thinking of Margaret. His life as Duke of Roseleigh had settled in comfortably. His grandfather had left him a prosperous and well-run estate, and Henry took pride in caring for tenants, managing investments, and overseeing operations with his stellar staff. He even looked forward to the next parliamentary session, confident there was good to be done there.
Aunt Blanche had moved into her new home with less fuss than he might have expected, pleased to represent Roseleigh on the Rose Council. Henry suspected Martin Grey might have something to do with her contentment. Jones, thrilled with another win, went about his work in consultation with Aunt Blanche, happily with little impact on Henry. Mary and Eckelston had been convinced to return to their own home, a process made easier with the expectation of another child. He missed little Henrietta though. He enjoyed teasing Mary by calling her Algernon.
He also missed Margaret. Henry went about his work with confidence and efficiency, but the days loomed long and the nights longer. The truth was he as lonely. He still hadn’t addressed problem number six—find a wife. Or, to be accurate, he felt certain that he had found the one he wanted, but had yet to secure her hand.
December brought holidays. Mary, Eckelston, and the wee one came to brighten Henry’s days. Aunt Blanche contented herself with a brief visit and even acknowledged with a sniff that the household staff managed well enough in her absence. “You need a wife, Henry. See to it this spring,” she ordered as she left. For once, Henry agreed with her.
