Rose Adagio

An Excerpt From: ROSE ADAGIO

Copyright © SARAH RICHMOND, 2007

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Ah, the schoolteacher,” the Earl said.

“Forgive my intrusion. I didn’t know you were here.” She turned to leave.

“Why do you run away?” he asked.

“It’s my experience that a solitary man wishes to be alone.”

“Are you experienced, then?”

She felt the color rising in her face. The impertinence of his questions would have been intolerable in most men.

“All I meant was I didn’t mean to encroach upon your solitude. I thought you were inside with the rest of the family.”

John Darlington studied the new arrival. She was a delicate creature with large inquisitive eyes.

She’d taken his remark at face value and wasn’t practiced in coquetry. He would have to tread carefully around this delicate rose.

“I only ask for your company, dear lady. Please stay and keep me amused,” he said affably.

Helen folded her hands and raised herself to her full height as if there was some doubt to who she was. Light from the nearest window flickered across her face. She wasn’t intimidated by his position, he saw that in her but she was uncomfortable with him.

She would remain because it was required of her and not because she required it of herself.

John knew they must avoid any hint of impropriety and he’d put her in an untenable position. Still, he liked having her there, next to him in the serenity of a peaceful night.

“How is Mrs. Wainwright?” he asked lightly.

“Grandmother has gone to bed. She tires easily.”

“An affliction of old age.” He took out his cigarette case and opened it. “Would you like one?”

She shook her head.

“I wouldn’t have asked,” he said, fearing he might have offended her, “but you seem a very modern woman.”

At this she laughed, an engaging laughter that drew him into her world. He stepped closer.

“Am I mistaken?”

“I do not think so.”

“You are not sure?”

“Sometimes my loyalties pull in both directions.”

The answer would do for now. “Do you find me terribly old-fashioned?”

She tilted her head. “In some ways.”

“In what ways,” he asked, insistent.

“Your dress, for example.”

“This formal dinner wear isn’t my cup of tea, actually.”

“What requirement do you satisfy by dressing thus?”

“The requirements of a gentleman,” he replied.

“And yet you say you’re uncomfortable in that role?”

John blinked back surprise. She twisted his words skillfully. What sort of woman was this?

“Appearances are important to you?” she asked. There was no guile in her face. He decided her questions were only the gentle probing of a curious mind.

“Under the circumstances, appearances are everything to me.”

“You don’t find the artificiality of your position objectionable?”

“There are rules, Miss Wainwright, lines that can’t be crossed.”

“Then you are terribly old-fashioned.”

He took a long pull on his cigarette and let the smoke pass indolently from his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have spoken so freely.”

“On the contrary, I value a person who speaks her mind.”

“Are you staying very long in Bristol?” she asked, facing him squarely, showing the full effect of her heart-shaped face.

“I must leave tomorrow.”

“As will I.”

“Your stay is short.”

She looked away. “It must be. I embarrass the Wainwrights.”

“You embarrass your family?”

“I am the daughter best forgotten.”

“Why on earth do you say so?”

“The thought of it displeases you?”

“Greatly.” He dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the heel of his shoe.

“I shouldn’t have made such a scurrilous comment. Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“I don’t wish to create any awkwardness for my family because of who I am.”

“Surely a schoolteacher could not cause such a scandal?”

“It is if a favorable impression is sought from an Earl.”

John knew she spoke the truth. Rarely had he encountered a woman who didn’t pretend to be muddled on such occasions when the truth needed telling. “You are an uncommon girl, speaking thus.”

She looked up at him. “And how do I speak?”

“Without pretensions.”

“It is the only way I know how to speak.”

She enchanted him with laughter in her eyes and upon her lips. He saw in her intelligence, curiosity and a charitable nature that he wanted to know better.

“I fear I am not your equal.”

Her mouth curved into the beginnings of a smile. “You mock me.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

She beguiled him with a generous smile.

“I was admiring the newly budded roses,” he said, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“Are you very fond of roses?” she asked. She looked out at the garden, her thoughts suddenly drawn away from him.

“I do believe I am.” He stepped forward and took her hand. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you remind me of an English rose.”

She looked up at him with unmistakable wonder. He was smitten. With a quick brush of his lips, he kissed her mouth.

She didn’t retreat or protest. He held her hand and took pleasure in its warmth and softness. Her scent, spring violets he would guess, added to the exquisite nature of this moment.

A floodgate of feelings overcame him, a dam bursting at its seams. He nuzzled her neck, sought the delicate place behind the ear that seemed to excite so many women. He ran kisses down her heated skin. She shuddered.