new home. For Ajax.’
‘You’re getting rid of him?’
‘Thought that was what you wanted, sir.’
Alec shook his head. ‘Oh, no. He might as well stay. After all, he’s doing no harm.’
He didn’t see Garrett’s secret smile of satisfaction, but went straight up to his own room and tugged off his coat. Running his hand through his hair, he went back down the stairs to the kitchen, where Mary was tidying up for the night.
‘Where is Rosalie?’
‘She’s just in the parlour, Captain.’
He went through. Somehow she’d made this little parlour into a different place, tidying it in the indefinable way that women had. Evidence of her quiet feminine touch was everywhere.
But there was also danger everywhere.
She was arranging a bowl of flowers on the window sill, and at first she didn’t see him. He thought that she looked—different somehow. As if she was hiding something, and whether it was good or bad, he could not tell. She was so self-contained, so strikingly lovely, even though she refused to believe it …
And you are no damned good to her, Alec Stewart.
Faint colour tinted her cheeks as she spun round. ‘Captain Stewart …’
‘Mrs Rowland. Have you had a quiet day?’ he enquired.
She nodded. ‘Indeed, but I’ve had a letter, from Helen and Francis. Such good news—they are going to be married, Alec, and the school Francis has set up is going well …’ She hesitated.
‘And they want you to go and join them, I imagine. Is it close to where you used to live?’
‘A few miles or so. I would like to see it all again. My mother is buried there.’
‘Of course.’ His voice was calm. ‘So what will your answer be?’
She met his eyes directly. ‘Some day it would make sense for us to go there, I feel. But—’ she looked up at him ‘—you warned me, Alec, that the person who threatened me might trace us there. Might trace us anywhere.’
He looked around. ‘Do you mind if I sit down? Were you in a hurry to retire?’
She put the flowers aside and sat down herself. ‘No. Not at all.’
He sat opposite her, on the sofa. ‘Rosalie,’ he said, his face shadowed in the candlelight, ‘have you ever considered that the man who seduced your sister might have a legal claim on Katy, as her father?’
She looked absolutely stunned. ‘Oh, no. But— why would he want to make such a claim, when he abandoned both mother and child so cruelly?’
‘He could say that the mother left him of her own will and he didn’t know the child existed.’
‘Yes. Yes, I see …’
Pity for her twisted rawly in Alec’s gut. She took a moment to calm herself before going on, ‘Alec, could this man—would he be allowed to take Katy away from me?’
‘If he’s her father, it’s possible, yes.’
Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. ‘Would money help?’
‘What money?’ he answered grimly. ‘That’s one commodity neither of us has and for once I’m sorry.’ Stephen, damn him, has enough money to buy up lawyers by the score.
Rosalie nodded, biting her lip. ‘What do you think I should do?’
Alec regarded her steadily. ‘I know you will hate this. But there is one solution. Agree to a betrothal.’
‘A—’ She looked even more stunned.
‘A betrothal. With me.’
Dear God. She looked—horrified. He raked his hand through his hair and tried again. ‘Look. It need only be a temporary arrangement. You and I would always be aware of that. But if this man should try to claim Katy, you do need to assume respectability. I may not be rich, but I am an Earl’s son—and a betrothal to me would strengthen your reputation, Mrs Rowland, in the eyes of the world.’
Rosalie sat very still. Do you really think that you—a courtesan who writes for a gossip rag—would be taken seriously at the magistrates’ court? Those caustic words of Alec’s still seared her. ‘So—you would pretend that you’d asked me to marry you …’
‘Exactly. It’s not going to be so very surprising to anyone, is it? You have, after all, been married before. And people already know that you’re living here.’
Rosalie lifted her head at last. The scent of the flowers on the window sill seemed almost overpowering now. ‘They already assume I’m your mistress?’
‘I’m afraid it’s inevitable.’ He saw the tinge of colour under her fine skin.
‘Is there nothing else I can do?’ she asked quietly. ‘No alternative?’
How she hated the idea. ‘It’s the best way, I fear. We would need to make a formal announcement, of course, in the papers and so on, but I’ll give you the night to think about my proposition. I can see you hate it, so let me remind you that once the danger is over, you can break it off any time you want.’
And he went, not even glancing at her as he left the room. Dimly she heard him in the hallway talking to Garrett, his mind already on other things, no doubt.
She gathered up those letters from Helen that she’d thought of showing him and clutched them to her, feeling quite sick.
She remembered overhearing Garrett saying sourly, ‘So she’s back in town. Dear God, she’s beautiful, but she’s wrecked his life …’
Alec had offered her this betrothal even though clearly he detested the notion. And she must agree to it, for Katy’s sake. But, oh, it was going to be difficult.
She looked again at the letter from France.
It reminded her that her mother was part of the Lavalle family, who’d owned land, châteaux and great vineyards in the Loire region of France, but lost them in the tumult of the Revolution so long ago. Rosalie had always assumed that the wealth of the Lavalles had gone for ever.
But six years ago, this letter told her, her family’s fortune had been restored by the Emperor Napoleon in a deliberate ploy to gain the political backing of France’s foremost aristocratic families. And the letter told her that a portion of that fortune—not vast, but large enough to make a difference to her life—might be hers.
She folded the letter in her fingers and gazed into the dying embers of the fire.
Even if this was true—how could it help her, now? For she had lost her heart to a man who was scarred for ever by a past commitment and who felt nothing but pity for her.
And
