Chapter Five

"M errick danced with you again last night," Peter observed at breakfast. "Twice, and one of them the supper dance."

"Yes," Rose said. "He asked me at the ball a few days ago. And last night he asked if he might take me driving this afternoon."

"Did he, indeed?" asked Peter. "Is he courting you, Rose?"

Rose pondered that. He had certainly been attentive. He had not danced with Vivienne at all, and he had not danced with anyone twice. Indeed, he seemed to go out of his way to pick ladies who were not usually invited to dance. Debutantes who were young, shy, and spotty. Companions long past their last prayers and sinking into oblivion. Several wives faithful to their husbands but fond of dancing.

It had crossed Rose's mind to wonder whether she was another of his charity cases, but she was beginning to hope that was not the case. No one else had been begged for four dances between the two balls. No one else was asked for a waltz, or for the privilege of escorting her into supper. He had directed the smoldering heat in his eyes in her direction and in her direction only. And now he had asked her to come for a drive.

She had not allowed herself to think as far ahead as courtship, however. "Usually, the men who pay me attention are trying to curry favor with Viv," she told Peter.

"Lord Merrick has no interest in me," Viv said.

"Lord Merrick has eyes for no one except Rose," Arial observed.

"The question is," said Peter, "how does Rose feel about Lord Merrick?"

Rose could feel her cheeks heating. "The question is a little beforehand, is it not? Lord Merrick has not asked to court me."

Arial gave a quick shake of her head. "I disagree, Rose. If you think you might be developing an affection for Lord Merrick, then yes, wait and see what happens. If you are sure he is not someone you could tie yourself to for the rest of your life, now is the time to gently discourage him."

"He's rather old," Viv observed.

"Thank you," Peter said, dryly. He, Rose knew, would be thirty-seven years of age on his next birthday.

Viv refused to be squelched. "You are twice as old as I am, Peter, and Rose is only a year older than me."

"It is a sizeable age gap," Arial agreed, "but Rose is mature for her age."

It is rather annoying to be talked about instead of to. "I am here, you know," she pointed out.

Arial turned the tables on her rather neatly. "Do you mind the age gap, Rose? Would you like Lord Merrick to court you?"

She thought about the question and the man. Ruadh, as she had been calling him in her own mind since she first heard of him from his grandfather. Ruadh, who was as much of a hero as his grandfather believed. Ruadh, with his haunted eyes, with his warrior's face and figure, that looked as if all excess flesh had worn away, leaving only muscle and skin stretched over the bone. With the innate kindness that led him to offer dances to the overlooked and to agonize over the plight of an old man who he had no reason to like.

"I do not see why he would," she said. "What do I have to offer a man like him? As Viv says, he is a man grown, in the prime of his life. He has traveled the world and has had experiences I cannot imagine. Even if he finds me attractive…" She thought about the heat she had seen in his eyes and had to acknowledge, if only to herself, that he was attracted to her. "It does not mean he plans to act on his attraction."

"He had better not," Peter growled. "Not unless he has offered for you. Not unless you have his ring on your finger."

"What do you want?" Arial asked, with gentle insistence.

I want Ruadh , Rose realized. "I would like to go driving with Lord Merrick and see what happens after that. He has said he intends to return to Scotland, soon. If he does, then at least I will have had an enjoyable drive and a pleasant partner for several dances."

If he did not intend anything more than a flirtation to while away his time in London, he would leave Rose with a bruised heart, but so be it. She would not discourage him now and precipitate the loss she fully expected to suffer but would build a few memories to keep her company in the coming years. One waltz, one conversation, one drive at a time. Perhaps, if she was very fortunate, one kiss?

*

Ruadh didn't know what had got into him. He had been talking to Rose—to Lady Rosalind—about the activities of the Season and heard himself asking if he could take her for a drive. It was as if his much younger and more hopeful self had taken over his voice.

He managed to borrow a curricle and pair from an intrigued and curious Nate, and on the way to the Stancrofts' to pick the lady up, he berated himself for raising expectations. But how bad could it be?

In a few days, maybe a week at most, he would leave for Scotland, the problem of his grandfather solved. In the meantime, he could fill his mind and his senses with the lovely Rose—sights, scents, and sounds to take out and examine in the lonely years ahead.

She did not keep him waiting when he pulled up, appearing almost immediately wearing a smart blue walking dress and matching bonnet, with a parasol in a lighter blue. Her promptness was just as well, for Nate's team was high-bred and frisky, and he did not want to leave them.

Ruadh needed to give them most of his attention during the drive to the park, for they objected to the slow pace that was appropriate in the heavy traffic, took offense at any horse that passed them, even going in the other direction, and were inclined to panic when a fluttering scarf escaped a peddler's tray and blew across the road in front of them.

Once in the park, Ruadh said, "If you have no objection, my lady, I'd like to take one of the less-traveled carriageways, and let these young lads trot off a few of their fidgets."

"Yes, they will appreciate that," Rose agreed. "They are too excited to remember their manners, at the moment."

He smiled as he turned the curricle onto a side path that wound between trees and released the reins to give them their heads and step up their pace. Rose lifted her face to the air. Her own smile was not directed at him. She seemed to be smiling at the pleasure of the air rushing past her, the horses suddenly pulling in harmony under the firm control of the driver, the trees passing quickly, but not so fast that the pair of them could not admire their beauty.

That was certainly what Ruadh was enjoying. That, and being with Lady Rose, whose quiet beauty he had missed noticing at first, but who was more and more appealing to all his senses, and to his imagination, as he came to know her better.

The pathway they were on came to an end with a sweeping circle around a summerhouse. "Would you like to walk for a time, Lady Rosalind?" Ruadh asked, the words leaving him even as the impulse entered his brain. "I saw a little pond off to the right that might be interesting."

"That would be delightful," she agreed.

So Ruadh told Nate's groom who was standing on a little platform behind the curricle, to trot the horses back and forth several times, the length of the path, until they were ready to behave themselves once it was time to negotiate the traffic again. A footpath wound into the trees near the summer house. With Lady Rose's hand on his arm, he headed along the footpath in the direction of the pond.

He was already regretting his impulsive decision. Yet another impulsive decision in a string of them, and all of them involving his pretty Rose. No! Not mine. It would not be fair to the lady .

"I hope this will take us where we want to go, my lady," he said.

"We cannot get lost, Lord Merrick. If the worst comes to the worst, we need only to retrace our steps."

True enough, but the danger lay in getting lost, not in the park but in the beautiful woman on his arm. Her innocent touch was the lure into a thicket of indecision. He had thought his mind made up. This lovely girl deserved marriage or nothing, and Ruadh was not fit to marry.

Though being the heir to Glencowan meant he would have to take a wife. Broken or not, it was his job to hold the earldom in his turn, and to father the next heir. While his head protested that he could not burden a lady he liked by making her his wife, his heart was already coming up with reasons why Lady Rose was the only possible contender for the position.

"Look," she said, as they turned a corner. "Water."

"And ducks," he commented. They had found the pond, and a few more steps brought them into a clearing where three paths converged on a circle of paving around a little body of water, with benches conveniently placed to sit and contemplate the pretty scene.

"Shall we sit?" He used his handkerchief to brush dust and leaves from the nearest bench.

"Look," she said, as she accepted the seat he had cleared for her. "Ducklings!" An adult led a dozen or more little balls of fluff across the water. Rose was counting them out loud and laughing as they swapped places and veered off in different directions, all chirping loudly.

"They will not stay still for me to count them!" she chuckled.

"Eleven?" he suggested, then joined her laughter when two more babies came squeaking from the reeds and merged with the fast-moving duckling ballet around the mother.

Ruadh had been telling himself that he barely knew Rose; that his fascination with her would fade with closer acquaintance. But every meeting so far had him wanting her more. She was kind, intelligent, competent, loyal to her family. He enjoyed being with her. He was used to summing people up on short acquaintance—the skill had stood him in good stead as an officer in the army, particularly as the commander of troops charged with keeping the peace in a hostile land. With Rose, he had passion and the beginnings of friendship.

"Look, Ruadh, this one is coming to see us!" she exclaimed, pointing to a duckling who was attempting to scramble out of the pond just in front of them. "I wish I had something to feed to them."

"The mother is not too happy about the venturer's direction," Ruadh observed as the duck's quacks took on a more urgent tone. His voice was none too steady as he reacted to her use of his personal name. He wanted to hear it again, preferably when they were in bed, her hair spread across his pillow, her voice a husky moan.

The duck didn't want her child too far away, and that raised another objection to a match between himself and Lady Rose. Rose was an Englishwoman and a Southerner. Ruadh's future lay in Scotland, far away from everyone and everything she knew. Ruadh's own mother was English, and she had long missed her family.

In Mama's case, though, she was estranged from her family. Had that not been the case, she could have seen them. Perhaps not often, given the distance, but from time to time. Today, Galloway was not as many days' travel from London as it had been a generation ago. Rose's family could visit, and Ruadh could afford to journey south for a month or so every couple of years, should it come to that.

Rose shook her skirt at the adventurous duckling. "Do as your mother says, until you are a little older," she advised. It tumbled back into the water with a startled, outraged peep and set a straight course for the duck, who sailed off to the other side of the pond, her little flock paddling around her, though several chose to ferry onboard her back. Ruadh's heart did an unusual skip at the sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile.

Even if he did find her attractive, as well as acceptable as his wife, the difference in their ages also worried him. He had at least fifteen years on her, and those fifteen years had been spent at war and in the shadow of war.

On the other hand, while she was young, she appeared to have a good head on her shoulders. The question was, could she cope with his moods, with his sorrow, and the dark energy that gripped him from time to time? He would have to be honest with her before she decided whether to allow him to court her. She would at least know what she was choosing.

So that was it, then. He'd chosen to court her, and it hadn't been a difficult decision at all. He opened his mouth to make a start, but at that moment she turned her head his way, her face alight with laughter, her eyes sparkling. He found himself bridging the gap between them, leaning to meet her and to kiss her. He forced himself to stop, his lips almost touching hers.

"Yes?" he asked. "Or no?"

"Yes," she breathed. It was little more than a whisper, but it was enough. His mouth covered hers, his lips gentle, though the strain on his self-control had his whole body quivering, like an eager horse constrained at the starting line, waiting for the signal.

Her untutored response helped. She was at first passive, then began to return the pressure and movement of his lips. When she parted her own lips, he had his first taste of her. A taste wasn't enough. His eager body wanted him to take more, to delve deep, to clasp her to him and shape her body with his hands, to turn this gentle exploration into an imitation of the act for which his body yearned. Perhaps, in this unexpected haven, even the real thing.

He ignored it, touching her only with his mouth, leaving her free to break their connection if she wished.

She moaned and pressed closer. He began to reach for her but called his hands back under his command. He must end this. Someone could come upon them at any time. He drew away, and at first, she followed, but then she allowed him the distance and sat back, looking adorably flustered.

No time like the present. He had not achieved his rank by dithering about an action once he had decided. "Rose, I have some things I need to tell you before I ask your consent to seek Stancroft's permission for our marriage."

*

Rose, still lost in the sensations of Ruadh's kiss, took a moment to understand his words. Then her heart leaped and immediately sunk again. She wanted nothing more than to be Ruadh's bride, but she first needed to tell him about the scandal of her birth.

"I must tell you something too, Ruadh." Better to do it straight away, for once he had heard, that would be the end of it, and he wouldn't have to suffer through telling her whatever he thought was so important. His double identity, she supposed. Of course, if he was considering her as a bride, he would want to tell her that he was the Wolf of Whitecross.

If he told her, she wondered, would it be polite to let him know she was already aware of his alter ego? Or would it be best to let him speak his story and pretend to be shocked and surprised? The only way she could stop him from sharing his information was to speak first and deter him from telling her his identity as the Wolf.

"I would like to speak first," she said, firmly.

"I cannot imagine anything you could say that would change the way I am beginning to feel about you," Ruadh assured her. "But if it is important to you, here I am. I will listen."

I should just blurt it out . "My mother was my Papa's mistress, not his wife," she said. "He installed me in his nursery when my mother died. Peter insists that I bear the family name and am addressed by the courtesy title ‘lady', but I have no right to either. I am not a fit mate for a viscount and a future earl, for I am base-born."

Ruadh looked surprised at her first sentence and was frowning by the time she had finished. Her heart sank, but what he said next was not the rejection she expected. "I knew about your parentage, of course. A couple of the ladies I danced with were very keen to pass on the information. I made it clear I cannot abide nasty gossips, and that I would not be asking them for a dance in the future."

Rose gaped. He knew her secret? And yet…he still treated her with courtesy and respect. It was something she'd never experienced from anyone except Peter, her sisters, and their closest friends. It was certainly not something she expected. She found herself quite unable to speak to him. Indeed, her lips were rounded like an ‘o'. She blinked and pressed them together. "My lord?" Her voice came out about as strong as the duckling's startled peep.

He took both of her hands in his. "I am sorry people have made you feel you are somehow less than because your parents were not married, but believe me, Rose, it makes no difference to me. If you consent to marry me, I shall count myself the luckiest man in the world. I would be proud to share my surname with you, and to make you a viscountess and later a countess by right of marriage. Let the mean bampots chew on that. And I hope it chokes them."

The two sentences were said with considerable indignation, which made her giggle even as she wondered if he had really thought it through.

"What will your family think, though?" she asked.

"My mother will love you as much as my grandfather already does," he said, promptly. "My father wants only to please my mother. The rest of the clan will follow the lead of their chief." He shrugged. "Such things are less important in Scotland, where we consider every baby as a blessing."

"Can it be so simple?" she wondered. Sincerity shone out of his eyes, but could she really burden him with her flawed self? "I am not sociable like Viv," she warned. "Nor am I as pretty as she."

He kissed her again, saying in between the delicious caresses of his lips and his mouth, "To my eyes, Rose of my life, you are prettier than Viv. I want to uncover every one of your curves and—do things I must not mention until you are mine. Viv is very ornamental, but my heart doesn't leap when I see her. I don't feel the least urge to touch her, to kiss her, to… Well. Enough said."

He drew slightly away again. Not so far he had to release her hands, which he still held, but the distance between them was suddenly more than physical.

"You were brave to tell me what you saw as your flaws, darling Rose. Now let me take my turn. Will you do this for me? Will you listen, and ask any questions you may have, but not make any decision until you have had time to think? Feel free to discuss anything that worries you with your family, if you wish, though I would not like it to go any further. Is that acceptable?"

His eyes searched her face as though Rose's answer would be written there, and perhaps it would, for Viv and Arial had often said she wore her thoughts and feelings in her expressions.

"Yes, of course. None of us gossip, Ruadh. I shall tell you sometime about how the dowager Lady Ransome, Viv's mother, used gossip to try to destroy Arial. We have a horror at it. What is it you need me to know?" That he was the Wolf? Somehow, she was certain of it.

Ruadh's grip on her hands tightened. "I have several concerns. At first, I told myself I should not court you at all, Rose. But I was too much attracted to stay away. I still see all the objections to the match, though."

"Objections?" Rose asked, when he paused, frowning.

"The age difference, for one. You are not yet twenty. I am thirty-four. I ask myself, would you be better off with a younger man?" His frown deepened. The idea did not please him, which set her heart skipping again.

When Viv had raised the same concern, Rose had considered the matter, and she had her answer ready. "I think age is one of the reasons I have not until now met a single gentleman I could regard as a possible husband. They all seem so young. They do not have a thought in their heads beyond the current fashion and the latest silly wager. Most of the girls Viv and I have met are the same."

To be fair, Viv might appear that way to someone who only saw her outward behavior. "Perhaps they are just pretending to be butterflies without a thought in their heads. Viv certainly is. But I have never been good at pretending. If that is what being young means, I haven't been young since my Papa died." Which was when my stepmother stopped being secretive and sneaky about her persecution of the unwanted bastard Papa had insisted on keeping . That was a story she would tell Ruadh another time.

"I do not regard you as old, either, Ruadh." She thought of something else to say. "Do you think you would be happier if you married an older woman? And if so, do you have one in mind?"

That fetched an amused smile. "Do you want me to confess you are the only woman on my mind?" The smile faded. "My home is in Galloway, in Scotland's southwest, far from everyone you have known. If you marry me, Rose, you will be leaving your sisters and your brother behind and going to an unknown country."

Before today, Rose had not believed anyone would wish to marry the Ransome by-blow, so she had not given much thought to leaving her family. It would be a wrench, but surely she could write? And visit? "Women do this all the time," she pointed out. "Unless they marry someone who lives next door, they leave their home and their family and friends, and keep in touch by letter, and with visits?" She made a question of the last few words.

"Yes," he confirmed. "We could have them to visit us, and we can visit them. My family shall love you, Rose, especially my mother. She is also an English woman from the southern counties who married a Scotsman. And she was entirely cut off from her family when she married my father."

Rose sighed. How tragic for them both. It must have been so hard for Ruadh's mother, and also for poor Lord Hardwicke, who had regretted his harshness almost too late.

*

Rose was wonderful. She didn't dismiss his concerns but addressed them fearlessly and with the common sense he had come to regard as typical of her. But his last and greatest concern about the match was still to come. Perhaps he did not have to tell her. Wasn't he better when he was with her? Calmer. More at ease. Happy, even.

He opened his mouth to say he was broken inside, that he was a seething mass of pain, despair, and anger. What he said instead was, "I am the Wolf of Whitehall."

Rose nodded her satisfaction. "I thought so."

"You knew?" No one else had guessed, he was certain of it.

She smiled at him. "Somehow, I sensed it. I felt it to be true. I kept thinking of you and the Wolf in the same way. And then you said some words as Lord Merrick that I had heard before from the Wolf. After that, I was nearly sure."

She was so matter of fact about it Ruadh couldn't believe his ears. "You are not afraid?" Ruadh asked. "I go out each night into London and hurt people. Even kill them. I am a violent man, Rose. Not fit to be in company with any woman, let alone a lovely young woman like you."

She regarded him with the patient and slightly exasperated look his mother used to wear when he persisted in saying or doing something stupid. "Ruadh, the people you kill. Can you stop them any other way? Do you kill when you can achieve your goals without dealing death?"

Ruadh felt as if she was speaking an unknown language. "What do you mean?"

In the same patient tone, she said, "When you and I met, you could have stabbed or shot the men who did it. They were unconscious, helpless. It would have been easy to remove them from the world. Easy for a violent man, a killer."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "They were helpless. Killing them would have been wrong."

Her slight smile and her nod indicated she had already guessed he felt this way.

"Very well, I admit I prefer not to kill if I can avoid it. But that does not make me a good man. I have seen things, and done things, that no man should. I am a killer, and you should run from me as fast as you can."

Rose narrowed her eyes as if to see farther into his soul. "Should I be afraid you might kill me?"

He recoiled at the question. "No. Never. How can you think it?"

"I do not," she said. "I know I am safe with you, Ruadh. I am just attempting to understand what it is you think I should run from. You do not kill for killing's sake. You are not a danger to me. What is your concern?"

Ruadh answered without pausing to think, the danger clear in his mind. "I fear I might make you unhappy. I do not sleep well. My temper is at times uncertain. I suffer from melancholy."

Rose did not answer straight away. With a small crease between her brows, she considered his statements. Then she spoke.

"Do you think I will be more unhappy to be with you when you are sad than to be without you altogether?" she asked. "For if so, I disagree. I have fallen in love with you, Ruadh Douglas, Master of Glencowan, and if you leave me now, I daresay I shall survive, for people do not, on the whole, die of a broken heart. But I will grieve. I will grieve, or so I think, for the remainder of my days."

"You will find someone else," Ruadh protested, but Rose did not agree.

"Never until you noticed me did I catch the interest of a man. Some of them flirted with me as a way to be close to my sister, but I was never the object of any man's desire until you. Nor did a man catch my interest and my attention. Not until you. I very much doubt matters will ever change, so do not console yourself that suitors are lining up and I shall soon find someone better, for there is no-one better. Not for me. I have not had, and do not expect to have, another suitor."

What she said lifted his heart, for if she had no other prospects, and if she was as fixed on him as she said, then perhaps she was right. Perhaps, flawed as he was, he was better than nothing.

But Rose had not finished. "Besides. How could anyone possibly be better? You rescued me when I believed I was about to die, or worse. I have seen how you behave with the people that most of Society ignores—the veterans, your grandfather, even the wallflowers at a ball. How you take responsibility for them and try to make their lives better. You are kind and clever and brave, and so handsome it makes my heart ache just to see you. I admire you more than anyone I have ever met. You, Ruadh."

Ruadh lifted his hands and hers with them. He placed a reverent kiss on the back of each hand and another on her lips. "So be it, then. If you are certain you want me, Rose, I shall speak with your brother. I vow to you, I shall be the best husband I can be."

"And I shall be the best wife I can be," Rose replied. He kissed her again for that promise and might have done more if a worried quacking had not broken their absorption with one another. It warned them of the approach, first of a dog, and then of its owner. By then, Ruadh was three paces away from Rose and they were both watching the increasingly frantic fussing of the duck as the dog, a large shaggy beast of indeterminate ancestry, ran to and fro on the bank, loudly inviting the ducks to join him.

His master ran into sight, calling the dog—a boy just out of childhood and not yet at the gangly stage of adolescence. He managed to capture the excited dog and reattach the leash, all the while talking to it. "Bruce, you are in such trouble. How could you? You know you are not allowed to run off without me. I would have brought you to see the ducklings. But I daresay you have frightened them so we will not be able to see them. And Mr. Brown is likely to take us immediately home as a punishment for your disobedience, which you deserve, but I do not. It shall be the kennel outside for you, sir, and mathematics for me."

The dog, hearing only the boy's tone, waved its tail and did its best to lick the boy's face, so the collar was not properly buckled when a tall thin gentleman, quietly and tidily dressed, strolled around the corner from which the boy had emerged.

"Ah, good," this gentleman said. "You have captured our miscreant, Master Harry. Did the malefactor put up much of a battle?"

Master Harry took the inquiry at its face value. "He did not fight at all, Mr. Brown. He likes me."

"A sagacious beast," Mr. Brown declared.

Ruadh and Rose exchanged a smile, and Ruadh offered his lady an arm. "Shall we return to the carriage?" he asked.

They left ducks, dog, and boy behind them, and were soon rolling behind two perfectly-behaved horses, who proceeded at a fast trot around the rest of the circuit of the park and back out into the streets of London.

Stancroft was at home, and willing to give Ruadh an audience in his study. He raised the same concerns Ruadh had, but in the end, left the study and returned with Rose. "You have five minutes while the butler fetches some champagne," he said, "after which I will expect you to join us in the parlor for a celebration."

Ruadh took Rose in his arms, to make the most of the five minutes. He hoped Rose and her family would not want a long betrothal.