Ross,’ he said. ‘Now, I believe that is the doctor I can hear on the stairs. I shall leave you to speak to him alone.’
‘You will still help me?’
‘Of course. I gave you my word. I shall not go back on it,’ Brock said, and smiled at her. ‘Try not to brood on your wrongs, child. Everyone concerned has treated you very badly, but I shall find a way out of this mess for you. Just believe that not everyone is as evil as those people you have fled from.’
Leaving her just as the elderly doctor entered, Brock toyed with the problem he’d taken on. He had no doubt that Sir Roxbourgh and his lady had high hopes of keeping hold of both the Manor and the jewels, while Sir Montague was hoping to become the owner of several mills. However, he had a lawyer in London who would move heaven and earth to please his favourite client and Brock did not doubt that the fraud could be exposed. Whether it could be done without scandal reflecting on Miss Ross herself was another matter. As an illegitimate child, she would be ostracised by most society hostesses—and though she might not mind that, Brock found that he did for her sake.
He would certainly discuss the legal details with his lawyer, but as for the rest? That would take some clever planning if they were to come off without a scandal of the first degree.
As yet he had not asked himself the question why he had decided to take up the cudgels on Rose Mary’s—no, Rosemarie’s, he smiled at the change of name—behalf. It might have something to do with the unease and feeling of guilt that had come over him when he was told of Sister Violet’s death, but if that were the case his mind had not understood it. All Brock knew was that a young woman stood in desperate trouble and this time he would do all in his power to see that she did not come to harm.
Brock was still uncertain whether she’d confessed the whole, but her revelations concerning her mother were startling and made her situation even more unfortunate. Indeed, many of the ladies who might have taken her under their wing would not contemplate the idea of harbouring a bastard, however delightful she might be.
Brock sat at the desk in the parlour he had taken at the inn. He was obliged to remain here for two more days, until Miss Ross was sufficiently recovered to travel. He must write to the friends he had let down and explain that he was delayed—and he must also write to Amanda and Phipps, asking if they would take in the young lady he’d rescued until he found alternative accommodation for her. He did not think that Amanda would be shocked by the circumstances of Rosemarie’s birth, but he would be obliged to tell her.
Rosemarie needed something for a few months, at least until her problems were settled, and there was no telling how long that might take. Brock could not expect his friends to keep her more than a week or two. Had he been married, he could have asked his wife to chaperon her while he... Of course, he must write to Cynthia, too.
He sighed deeply, feeling uneasy and doubtful of the future. Cynthia Langton was a charming young woman and beautiful, but the more Brock saw of her the less certain he was that they would suit once they were married—and yet only a cad would withdraw now.
He had intended to visit her this weekend, but now he might be tied up for weeks with this affair. It was a nuisance and he could not be surprised if Cynthia were to be angry. Brock had shamefully neglected his fiancée and he knew he must make amends. Perhaps he would leave Miss Ross and travel down to see Cynthia this weekend and explain in person rather than write. Letters only conveyed half a story.
Cynthia would be more inclined to sympathise with his desire to help the young woman if the date of their marriage had been set. Yes, he thought, drawing the paper towards him and dipping his pen in the ink, it might be best just to write a line or two saying he was coming down rather than explaining in a long and complicated letter.
Having penned his brief note to Cynthia and addressed it to her home, he wrote to Amanda and Phipps, telling them he would be in London in two days and had a favour to ask. Then he drew another sheet of paper towards him and began to write a list of what he ought to do in order to set Miss Ross’s affairs in order. A visit to his lawyer and then to hers, and depending on what he learned there, perhaps a visit to Miss Ross’s home.
Another deep sigh escaped him, for it looked as though a time of frustration was ahead and he wondered why he had been moved to give a girl he did not know his promise of help. Miss Ross was certainly lovely to look at, but Cynthia was beautiful—quite the most beautiful woman he’d ever met—and she’d agreed to be his wife. He was the world’s worst wretch for having left her alone in the country for weeks on end.
He would definitely go down this weekend, for once his temporary ward was safely in Amanda’s charge, he need not worry about Miss Ross’s affairs immediately. A visit to the lawyers should be sufficient to set things in motion.
He had not fallen for the girl? Examining his motives, Brock decided that it was merely the natural and proper instincts of a gentleman to protect a vulnerable girl. No, his affections were not engaged. Rosemarie was young, vulnerable and pretty, but if he admitted the truth only one woman had touched his heart...only one woman could have made him happy, but that woman was out of his reach. Of course, he’d loved sweet Mary—or Sister Violet, as the nuns called her—but that was as a friend of his childhood or a sister. No, there was but one lady he had wanted for his wife, but that dream was long squashed—almost forgotten.
He had learned that the only way to cope with his pain and grief over Samantha Scatterby was to block it out of his mind. She had loved her late husband and despised him for having tried to make love to her while her beloved husband was lying ill upstairs, and indeed, he despised himself for it. He had been swept away by a look in her eyes and that was weakness and it shamed him. Brock knew that he must live in the world as it was, remember his duty and keep the promise he had made, even if he had regretted it almost at once.
He would speak to Cynthia about setting the date this weekend, after he’d settled Miss Ross, and for that he must first go to London, for Amanda and Phipps were in residence in their town house.
* * *
‘You only just caught us,’ Phipps said when Brock entered their elegant parlour in the London house two days later. ‘We are returning to the country tomorrow. Indeed, had your letter not reached us we should have left today.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose it cannot matter to Rosemarie where she lives,’ Brock said, frowning. ‘You know the favour I would ask, Phipps. I hope it will be only a matter of weeks, because I imagine her lawyers can settle the matter soon enough. However, she does need a sanctuary for a while.’
‘And I wish that we might offer it,’ Phipps said. ‘I’m afraid it is out of the question at the moment, old fellow. Amanda has been ordered complete quiet once we are home. She is to go to bed and stay there for at least the next month. She is expecting our first child and is not doing too well at the moment, I’m afraid. Doctor Renfrew says if she is taken home by easy stages and made to rest she should bear a living child—but if we ignore his advice he has little hope of it. It’s because she’s such a little thing.’
‘Oh, my dear Phipps,’ Brock said. ‘Of course you must do exactly as the doctor says and I perfectly see why you cannot have Miss Ross as a guest.’
‘I haven’t even told Amanda that you asked,’ Phipps said, looking anxious. ‘She would insist that Renfrew is an old fool and tell Miss Ross she was welcome to stay for as long as she wishes, but I simply could not bear anything to happen to my darling or her child.’
‘Certainly
