A Question Of Honour

A Richard and Rose story A Question of Honour ©Lynne Connolly 2005 Please do not reproduce this story without permission from the copyright holder.

Richard Kerre, Lord Strang, gloomily watched the carriages disgorge their eager contents. Since Rose left for her home in Devonshire his mother had invited more and more nubile young maidens, all eager to entrance and entice him from his chosen true love. Here were some more. Blonde girls, brunettes, even the occasional redhead, all nubile, willing and beautiful. It was unbearable. None of them appealed to him any more, but Lady Southwood wouldn't accept his choice, not until she had reminded him of the beauties he'd rejected. He started when a hand clapped his shoulder, but relaxed when he realised it was his twin. "Skulking in the estate office?" Gervase suggested. "Certainly. They'll find me here soon enough. Rose has been gone barely a fortnight, and we must have had twenty girls paraded through this house. I don't know why she can't just accept it." Gervase made a face. "You know Mother. She wants a girl of beauty and fortune-" he grinned when his brother opened his mouth in protest-- "preferably one of her own choice she can control. She doesn't know Rose at all, and she's afraid of losing her influence." "She lost that long ago."

"I'm not up to anything except trying to make tonight a success." Turning away from the window, Richard confronted the mirror that was his brother, and took heart. They had been apart for twelve years, learned to be independent, but before the advent of Rosalind Golightly, Gervase had been one of the two human beings he truly trusted, the other being his valet. His parents didn't come into his inner self, and hadn't for a long time. "I shall be, as I usually am, immaculately dressed, icily polite and completely distant. If mother doesn't desist, I shall leave." Upstairs, Lady Southwood congratulated herself. Everyone she had invited, or suggested that they visit, had taken her up on her offer. Her son's betrothal to the odious Julia Cartwright had been well and truly broken, and the contract with Miss Golightly not signed yet. This was her only chance, and she meant to make the most of it. She had no intention of mouldering into a crusty dowager with no influence. Once she was widowed, she had every intention of continuing as Countess here at Eyton. She suspected Miss Golightly had a mind of her own, and disliked her for it. She rose gracefully and smiled as Miss Emilia Trente entered the room with her mother, one of Lady Southwood's oldest friends. "So good to see you both! Tea? After the maid has gone I have something most particular I wish to discuss with you." ***** Richard entered the drawing room before dinner and bowed to the newest guests with the flourish for which he was famous. Garbed expensively and immaculately in a sapphire silk that brought out the colour of his eyes exactly, he was the epitome of the gentleman of fashion. His brother, bringing up the rear, was equally immaculately, if more soberly, attired. They made a magnificent couple, and now, at thirty, were in their prime. They were also fully aware of the effect they made when they entered a room. Richard was seated next to Miss Trente at dinner, not entirely to his surprise. She was a delectable blonde girl, so ethereally delicate in appearance it seemed the slightest breath would make her recoil. However, her looks were deceptive. Miss Trente was a determined young lady, and meant to make the most of her

opportunities. Richard Kerre was one of the best catches in Town, possessed of address, panache and a tidy fortune, heir to one of the best earldoms in the country. Richard was only too aware of this. He paid her every attention, but was careful to decline her more intimate invitations. "Why sir, we have known each other this age! I'm sure I can trust you to escort me to the Temple!" The building in question was a summerhouse at the end of one of the vistas leading the eye pleasantly from the Great House. It was open all the way round, and once they were under its roof, they would be out of sight. "I will gladly do so, Miss Trente, if you consent to allow your mother to accompany us," he told her. "Pooh!" she said, pretty nose in the air. "You are not usually so stuffy, sir! And call me Emilia. Everyone does." "I couldn't presume to do so, Miss Trente. You must forgive me my strange penchant for formality." In the usual way of things, Richard's formality was no more pronounced than it needed to be. He leaned back, indicating to the footman that he wanted his glass refilled. Rarely a heavy drinker, he felt the need of it tonight. "It is not that you cannot trust me, you know you can do that, but what evil minds might speculate on. That would be unfair to both of us." He lifted the now full glass and drank. "Oh sir, so foolish! Why, the Temple is a charming retreat, and I wish most particularly to see it!" "I'm sure a chaperon can be arranged." But not one of your choice, he reminded himself mentally. He would have to ask Gervase to accompany them, in case the chaperon was unavoidably detained. He strongly suspected that would turn out to be the case. His suspicions were confirmed when Miss Trente smiled at him sunnily. "I'm sure I can find someone to accompany us on our little expedition." He didn't need to ask Gervase. He glanced across the table and his brother nodded very slightly. Richard took another drink and looked around for the buttered carrots.

That night Richard found it difficult to get to sleep, until he hit on the not entirely novel idea of imagining he was already married and all he had to do was reach out for Rose. Never had six weeks seemed so long, but he was determined to claim her for his own. After all those years looking, playing the mating game in London year after year, she'd fallen into his arms as though she had always been there. Congratulating himself on his good fortune, eventually he fell asleep. ***** When Richard woke he was bathed in early morning light. He slept with the shutters and bed drapes open, hating the sensation of being confined. One day closer. He lay on his side facing the window and smiled. He wouldn't leave his room until much later that morning, and then he would make sure of Gervase before escorting Miss Trente to her trysting place. Only it wouldn't be a trysting place if he had anything to do with it. Still sleepy, he rolled on to his back and touched bare flesh. An arm. A female arm. For a moment he thought he'd slept the intervening time away, and this was the morning after his wedding, when he would wake up with the one woman he was certain would never bore him. A shock went through him when he came to his senses. This was Eyton, not the yacht, and the woman next to him wasn't Rose. Lying perfectly still, keeping his mind clear, he went through the events of the previous evening. No, he hadn't been drunk by the time he'd gone to bed, even though he'd imbibed more than usual. He wasn't hung over, his head didn't ache, and he could remember perfectly getting into bed and trying to get to sleep. Alone. Cautiously he turned his head on the pillow and saw a blonde one, hair done up in two decorous braids. Her back was to him. Christ! Realising what was being done, he sat up, but it was too late. Miss Trente sleepily rubbed her eyes and turned around, giving the impression of a girl just waking from sleep. Then she screamed.

Before he had time to throw back the sheets the door opened, as though someone was waiting for just that signal. It was his mother and Lady Trente, both in their night attire, robes flung on over their night rails. "Richard!" "My lord!" Knowing the game was up, Richard prepared to see it through. "Good morning." He turned to Emilia, smiling up at him with a silky propriety he knew he would never bear to see more than this once. "There is no need to make any more noise. They heard you." "You dare to do this to my daughter!" Richard sat up in bed and folded his arms. Since he customarily slept naked, there was a collective female gasp of shock. He didn't bother to hide himself. He caught the look of greed in Lady Trente's face before she masked it with disapproval and pursed lips. "I've done nothing. If she was virgo intacta when she slipped between my sheets, she is certainly still that way now." Emilia's gasp and spluttered, "How dare you!" rewarded him. He smiled silkily. "It depends how often you've tried this little trick," he told her. "I won't take advantage of you, but I know men who will." "You will do the right thing by her, Richard," his mother announced. He bowed his head. "Certainly. I will tell no one what she foolishly tried to do." "You will marry her." "I fear I cannot. My promise is bestowed elsewhere." "Richard, you will do this or your father will get to hear of it!" He rubbed his neck with his hand and then refolded his arms. Emilia showed every sign of wanting to take hold of it, but he had no wish to touch her. "Tell him. I'll repeat to him what I am repeating to you; I will not marry anyone but Rose Golightly. If you don't avert your eyes, you will see how much Miss Trente affects me." Before the ladies had a chance to look away, he threw back the covers and got out of bed, stark naked. Although of only average height, Richard's bachelor

existence had shown him he had nothing to be ashamed of in his body. It was not customarily something he paraded in front of women he wasn't intimately involved with, but any discomfiture they might feel was entirely their fault. Two out of the three ladies present studied him avidly before managing the expression of concern and shock which was more proper, but he had achieved his objective. It was obvious that Emilia Trente didn't affect him one whit. Not an iota of desire showed in any part of his anatomy. Richard crossed to the chair and picked up his robe, flinging it on and cinching the belt tightly around his waist. Then he sat in the chair. Emilia sat up in bed. His bed. Her nightdress flowed about her in virginal folds. "Tell my father what you like," he said to his mother. "You know as well as I do that anything he says will not deter me from my purpose. I intend to do the right thing. I shall say nothing of this unfortunate tendency of Miss Trente's to walk in her sleep. If it is mentioned, she might find herself in a difficult situation in the marriage market, particularly since I have no intention of offering marriage to what was, I am sure, an unfortunate accident." "I cannot accept this!" cried her ladyship, chins quivering. She turned to Lady Southwood. "I beg of you, make your son see reason!" "If you attempt to compel me," Richard continued in the same, smooth voice he knew his mother was learning to hate, "it could get very ugly. Even if you succeeded, I would never, never succumb to her charms. My partner in life is chosen. We can live as well abroad as we can here, and you will not find us." His mother closed her eyes for a moment. Her customary chilliness of expression was now reflected in the more masculine features of her son. Icy blue gaze met icy blue; there was no surrender from either side. "If you attempt to enforce this, you will have no heir," Richard said, every word enunciated clearly and calmly without emphasis. They stared at each other, Richard Kerre and his mother until Lady Southwood blinked and looked away. Richard stood up. "I'll leave today. You will be needing a house in Exeter for the wedding, so you may say I have gone to Devonshire to see about it myself."

No one else in the room moved as he turned and went out.

The end. Read more about Richard and Rose in the novels available from Samhain Publishing www.lynneconnolly.com [email protected]