Chapter Nine
Rose took a long, deep breath.
It was the deepest she had taken these last few days. These last few, whirlwind days.
First the wedding—and that had been a fiasco in and of itself. Honestly, the man was completely impossible, as though he had been purposefully making the whole thing a farce!
And she knew farce. Why, Rose thought smugly as she tugged the blanket more closely around her thighs in the jolting carriage, she had practically invented farce.
The play she had performed perhaps the best in her life had required her to play the role of a boorish gentleman. Or a woman in disguise as one.
The point was, the man was a fool. He was a fool for asking her to marry him, a fool for the way he had behaved at the church, and a fool for agreeing to pay her off in a year.
Not quite a year.
The thought jerked through Rose as the carriage rattled over a cobblestone, both sensations most unpleasant.
Two days had passed since they had wed. Their marriage, such as it was, would now last less than a year.
Precisely why that thought should bother her, Rose had no idea, and she made sure that the flickering uncertainty did not show on her face. It would never do to allow the man in the carriage alongside her to actually see anything that could be mistaken for weakness…
“You look nervous.”
Hell’s bells, had she lost her touch?
Rose smiled as prettily as she could at the stranger in the carriage with her. For he was a stranger…even if he was her husband.
“I am quite well, thank you,” she said lightly, as though she had not experienced the oddest few days in her life.
Samuel Chance, freshly made Marquess of Aylesbury, smiled too—though it was more a grimace. “I know things have been…unsettled.”
“‘Unsettled,’” repeated Rose archly.
It was the best she could do at censoring herself, never an easy task. But how on earth could the man use the word ‘unsettled’ when the last two days had been…
Well. Absolutely wild.
“Perhaps we should have spoken more about our marriage before we entered into it,” Samuel continued as his carriage—their carriage—rattled through the streets, which were becoming increasingly busy. “About the practical arrangements, I mean.”
Rose did her best not to snort, but it was a very close thing. After all, she knew precisely what he meant when he’d said ‘practical arrangements,’ and there had been nothing practical about them.
“It’s just—well, it is customary for people of my position—”
Something must have shown on her face, for Samuel halted his speech and flushed.
“‘People of your position’?” Rose said in a honeyed tone.
“You know what I meant.”
“You mean elegant, refined, titled, noble?”
“It is not my fault that I was born as I was,” the man said stiffly.
And it wasn’t. Rose could not help but feel sorry for the man who had never ventured beyond his class, never experienced life, never seen what the world had to offer people who were willing to leave behind their riches and titles and all that guff to see what else could be found.
Still. The last few days had been a tad tiring.
“It is not the sleeping in different bedchambers that I mind,” Rose said, feeling a touch sorry for the man as the carriage rumbled around a corner so rapidly, she was forced to place a hand on the carriage door to steady herself.
“It’s not?”
Was the man disappointed there? Rose decided not to look into it too closely. The man she had married was most peculiar: distant and then seeming to want intimacy and then…
“It is the constant temperature changes that I am finding wearing,” she said quietly, hoping that he understood.
He did not understand. “Yes, it’s certainly more temperate here in London than Brighton,” said Samuel vaguely, glancing out of the carriage window. “I tend to find—”
“That is not what I meant.”
The journey had been long, and arduous, and…and strange. Rose had experienced her fair share of long journeys—one did not leave Hertfordshire and end up in Rome without a little travel—but the last two days had been most inexplicable.
“I meant,” Rose said steadily, as her husband—how strange that was to even think—stared blankly, “that I had not expected to be marched out of a church into a waiting carriage, bundled into it to discover that my belongings had been left behind at Regent’s Hotel, to have that information soundly ignored—”
“I apologized for that!” protested Samuel. “I’m not used to having to think about… To having a wife. I did write to the hotel once we’d reached the next inn, didn’t I? Everything will be sent on to my London address.”
“—and to rush straight to the solicitor’s to finish the paperwork, and then, instead of heading back to the hotel even then, departing immediately on a two-day journey to London, something which had not been mentioned to me previously, to meet your entire family and be presented as your bride to the world at large without even a second gown on me!
” Rose’s voice had lowered to a hiss with every passing word, and eventually, she found she was glaring.
Well. He does deserve it.
Quite deservedly, Samuel squirmed. “Had I not mentioned we would be coming to London?”
Rose threw up her hands in exhaustion. “And to do the journey in two days!”
“Two days is normal!”
“Only one stop for a luncheon at all the entire trip, forcing us to leave at early hours after rushed breakfasts, and may I say that the refreshments on offer at these so-called inns of yours have been very poor fare!” Now her grievances had started to pour from her lips, Rose was rather startled to find that she could not halt them. “And as for the beds—”
“I gave you the beds!” objected Samuel. “The sofas were not comfortable, let me tell you.”
“The beds were no good, either,” snapped Rose, exhaustion tugging at her eyes and hunger tearing into her stomach. “I have been unable to wash beyond what I can manage with a small basin—”
“It’s not like I’ve bathed, either—”
“And you expect me to meet your entire extended family and the great and the good of Society as the Marchioness of Aylesbury in a gown I first put on three days ago?” Rose finished with what certainly felt like panic.
And it was panic, in a way. She had believed herself prepared, had thought she had known precisely what she’d been getting herself in for.
Marry the man. Become the Marchioness of Aylesbury. Hold court for a few months, enjoy Society, slowly disappear from parties and dinners, then walk away with her head held high and a large wad of cash in her hands.
But traipsing about the country in a carriage with only one gown to her name?
Samuel’s face was wooden. “Look, I didn’t exactly plan—”
“No, you did not.” Just voicing her irritation had bled Rose of most of her anger, and it was mostly pity that remained. “You fool. You aren’t thinking more than a single step ahead, are you?”
She had not intended to speak so dismissively, but she could not help it. The man seated opposite her hung his head.
“No,” he said quietly.
“May I ask why the rush?” she said, softer this time.
“It was bad enough at the church, but once you’d visited the solicitor with the signed license, I thought there was no need to barrel forward with quite the same kind of urgency.
I’d have asked earlier, but you’ve been a positively beastly travel companion, I must say.
Snapping at everyone and everything in your path. ”
Samuel winced. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to go back to the hotel.
My parents and siblings were set to leave that afternoon as well, and I’d told them we were leaving before them, after some last business at the solicitor’s.
I didn’t want them to figure out I’d actually spent the morning in a church. ”
“Your mother did mention that when she caught me. The only reason I finally got away was that I told her I was on my way to meet you for the meeting with the solicitor. But still. I presumed one last trip to the hotel would be in order. I don’t have a lady’s maid to pick up, but I do have things.
I may have agreed to play a role for you—and for a substantial amount of time—but I’m not a dog you can just toss inside a carriage to tag along wherever you please without objection. ”
“I never said that you were,” Samuel said softly.
Rose snorted.
“We’ll have to get you one.”
“A dog?” Rose arched a brow. “They’re sweet, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to care for one after I… after I go back to acting. On the stage.” Heaven help her, in a year’s time, she’d be able to find another role. At least she wouldn’t starve if she didn’t. “Unless you intend to keep it.”
Samuel swallowed. “No, um… I meant a lady’s maid. A marchioness requires one. I suppose I better hire my own valet, too. I’ve been sharing my father’s and going without outside the home, but I suppose a marquess must travel with the proper attendant.”
“Right.” Rose didn’t state what she thought—that she wondered if the woman hired would be fine with working for her for just a year.
Even if she left the marriage with a fortune, Rose wasn’t sure she’d require a lady’s maid on her own.
She liked her independence. “I’ll leave the hiring of those staff to your housekeeper.
I’m a little more worried about not having a clean dress at the moment. ”
Rose steadied her breathing as she looked out of the carriage window.
London had not changed in its particulars in the long decade since she had last been here.
It was still busy, and dusty, and dirty.
It was still full of people, each of them with their own story, each of them with their own worries.
But she could only concern herself with her own.
“Well, I shall simply have to solve this for you,” she said with a wry look. “I have the feeling that it won’t be the first time.”
Samuel blinked. “I—I beg your pardon?”
“As your wife, it will be my responsibility to attempt to keep you in line, and I will work hard at that,” Rose said blithely. “After all, as your wife—”