Chapter 16
Asurprised bark of laughter burst from Bull’s lips as he realized Rose had palmed the ring, slipping it up her sleeve. When everyone in the room turned to look at him—Demon glaring, Eliza beaming, Rosie just looking sad—he shrugged apologetically.
“I taught her that.” He stepped proudly toward Rosie. “Ye learned that from me.”
Lady Mistree clapped with delight. “Oh, you are a treasure, Rose! Just like my dear sister! Do you cheat at cards as well?”
Rosie glanced back at her father. “You are right, Da. Our engagement was a ruse, as were all the roles I learned to play in this investigation. But this particular one…”
Suddenly the ring appeared in between her first two fingers, held to catch the light. “This role,” she whispered, looking only to Bull, “did not feel like a ruse.”
Bull’s heart was near bursting with pride as he met her in the middle of all the portraits. He reached for her, clasping her arms, reassuring himself she was safe and healthy. “It didnae feel like a ruse to me either,” he murmured. “Do ye ken where that ring came from?”
When Rosie shook her head, he glanced at Lady Mistree. “It was my inheritance.”
The old woman beamed at the pair of them. “I told him it would fit the woman he would marry perfectly. I gave it to him that day in the Gallery, when you were wearing that outrageous mustache, right before my Teddy stole the portrait.”
“Mustache?” blurted Demon. “Stolen from a Gallery? A mustached teddy? What the fook is going on here?”
But Bull was busy gaping at the old woman. “Ye were behind the thefts, Eliza? Or should I call ye Aunt Betsy?”
“Oh, bravo, Bull!” she praised, clapping her hands together again, clearly delighted. “I should have known I could not fool you—at least, not for long.”
Rose slid her hand into his, clasping the ring between their palms. “You figured it out?”
“That she’s yer great-grandmother’s sister?” Bull nodded. “Aye. I spent hours in the library with yer mother, gathering the clues, before emerging to learn that ye’d run off to meet the blackmailer and save me the trouble.”
His love chuckled. “I should have known I would not have to explain it to you.”
Demon stomped his way into Bull’s line of sight, fists clenched, face red with rage. “Well I wish someone would explain it to me! This auld woman is the blackmailer?” He whirled on Eliza. “Ye’re the one who threatened Bull and pushed him to his icy death and lured my daughter away?”
Bull was surprised the man had even mentioned the threats against him—since when did Demon care about such things?
—and would even consider this frail old woman was the one Bull had grappled with on the frozen river.
So he stepped forward to put himself between the old woman and Rose’s father, who looked ready to break someone in frustration.
“Demon, Eliza is the Dowager Countess of Mistree.”
“My husband’s nephew Teddy is around here somewhere,” Eliza explained cheerfully. “He inherited the title after my Reggie’s death, Lord love him, along with the estate in Northumberland and the townhouse in London. Rosewood, however, is mine, and has been since my mother’s death many decades ago.”
Bull nodded, uncertain how that was relevant, but trying to appease the old woman. He patted the air, trying to placate Demon, who was still glaring. “Eliza is also yer wife’s great-aunt. Georgia’s mother was her niece.”
Demon’s scowl shifted back to Lady Mistree. “The old one who was married for ages?”
“That is me!” Eliza agreed with a chipper sort of finger wave. “And dying, you know. Dying women have diplomatic immunity, I believe?”
“They dinnae,” Demon growled, stepping forward, “especially no’ if they hurt my daughter.”
“Da!” Rose left the ring in Bull’s palm and burst into exasperated movement, rolling her eyes as she snagged her father’s arm and pulled him toward the chaise. “Have some tea!”
“No’ until I ken ye’re safe.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, still glaring as he sank down, eyes full of worry. “Is yer nae-so-great aunt trying to blackmail ye?”
“Oh, Da, she only sent that letter to get me and the portrait here.” Rose gestured to the easels. “Surely you have noticed the unusual décor? Aunt Eliza has been acquiring all of the portraits she painted of her sister as a young woman.”
“Ye painted?” Bull’s brows rose, understanding a relief after so much worry. “I’ll confess I didnae guess that.”
Rose pointed. “You only have to study the portraits to see the love and affection the artist poured into each stroke.”
Lady Mistree nodded serenely. “My younger sister was brave, clever, and dramatic, just like your True Love, Bull.” She settled back in her bath chair with a soft sigh. “I am pleased I will get to be with Rosemary again soon…and I am pleased to have brought together one last couple.”
Not understanding, Bull glanced at Rose.
She smiled, even as she patted her father’s arm.
“Aunt Eliza is somewhat of a matchmaker. In her campaign to acquire all of her sister’s portraits, she’s been working to nudge together all of our family.
Thanks to her pretense at blackmailing Allie, Rupert finally proposed marriage to her. And Marcia—”
“The inheritances,” Bull breathed in understanding. “Marcia’s necklace, Gabby’s lace, and Hunter’s…what did he have? A magic rock?”
“A spoon,” Lady Mistree said with a chuckle.
“And you got a ring. It is not magic in itself, but the love behind it is.” She grinned knowingly at Rose.
“That ring belonged to my mother, same as this estate did, but my sister wore it for years to remind her of her one true love. Her child. When I gave it to Bull, I am certain he thought it meager compared to the affection we hold for one another—”
“Eliza!” Bull interrupted to protest, but the old woman shook her head and held up her palm.
“You are worth all the best things, my dear Bull. I told you that ring would fit your True Love, and…” She nodded to where Bull held the piece of gold between his thumb and forefingers.
“It did. You might have placed it on Rosie’s finger as part of a ruse, but she has already admitted it became truth to her. ”
Bull stared down at the ring, mind unable to take in all that was being said. “Did ye…did ye ken she was meant for me?” he whispered.
“Any fool could see it, my dear friend. That ring was always meant for my great-great niece…but you had to be the one to give it to her.”
Lady Mistree stretched out both her hands, one toward Bull and one toward Rose. As Bull stepped toward the bath chair, he saw Rose stand and take her aunt’s hand.
The old woman beamed at them both. “My sister Rosemary was a rare light in a dull world. As a girl, she was adventurous and thrilling and so full of life, just like you, Rosie. She gave her heart—and herself—away to a man who did not love her in return, and Society judged her harshly for that. It led her on a path to what eventually became a scandalous and mostly enjoyable life.” She smiled softly at her great-grandniece.
“I look at you, my dear, and I see my sister come back to life. Her smile. Her appetite for life. But you will not end the way she did.” She shifted her smile to Bull, welcoming him.
“Because the man you have given your heart to is a good man.”
In that moment, Bull didn’t think he had eyes for anyone but Rose. The ring was clutched in his hand, his fingers still now that they could grip that piece of gold—and the hope it represented—like a lifeline.
He wasn’t good enough for her. He never could be.
But she…his Rose, she didn’t want someone good. She wanted him.
Was that true?
But from the corner of his gaze he saw Demon thrust himself to his feet, and he watched Lady Mistree switch her smile to him.
“Is that not right, young Demon? We do not want your daughter coming to the same sorrowful end that my sister did, do we?”
“Moldy wankbiscuits,” the other man growled, stomping up to stand at Rose’s side, making the fourth point in their group. “Nae man is good enough for my Rosie.”
Lady Mistree switched her grin to Bull and squeezed his hand as she whispered conspiratorially. “You must not take it personally. You will understand what he means when your Rose gives you a daughter of your own.”
Demon sucked in a breath, but Bull barely heard it. Nay, his breathing had stopped as he stared into Rose’s eyes, suddenly struck by the image of her holding a wee hellion with her beauty and his grin. A daughter. One day, he might be a father?
In that moment, he vowed to be the best bloody father ever.
His grin was slow, excited, certain.
“How about it, Rose?”
He flicked the emerald ring into his palm, closed a fist around it, made it disappear just long enough for him to reach forward and present it to her, making it appear in his palm again. “Forever?”
But instead of throwing herself into his arms and screaming “Yes! Yes!” as he might have preferred—now, and in later scenarios—his love turned to her father.
Bull felt a moment’s panic, remembering Demon’s claim that he wasn’t good enough for her.
It was Lady Mistree who prompted an end to the silence. “Well, Your Grace? Are you planning on standing in the way of True Love?”
“Solipsistic bunglecunt!” the other man growled.
The old woman chuckled. “Oh, I like you. I can see why my Georgia chose you.”
As Bull watched with a frantically beating heart, Demon heaved a grand sigh and tugged his daughter around to face him.
“I love ye, Rosie. My wee lassie, I love ye more than any other man could possibly love ye.” He muttered something inaudible under his breath, then glanced at Bull briefly before returning his focus to his child.
“But when I saw how terrified this dobber was when ye were in danger…” He shrugged with a weary sigh.
“Well, I suspect maybe ye’ve found the one other man who can come close. ”