A Rose for Major Flint (Brides of Waterloo)

‘We are agreed, then? You are going to stop resisting me?’

‘I never was able to resist you, you infuriating man. But that is not what you meant, is it? I will agree to the marriage, I will stop arguing, on one condition.’

‘What condition?’ They had reached the house, but Adam stopped at the foot of the steps. ‘This is marriage, Rose, not a ceasefire negotiation.’

‘On the condition that you are honest with me. Promise that and I will marry you.’

‘Is this about mistresses, Rose? I keep my promises. I might be a scoundrel, but vows are vows.’

‘It is about everything. Secrets and feelings. Decisions. Involving me. Telling me when things go wrong. Telling me when you aren’t happy and why.’

The drawing-room window was unshuttered and the light chequered the pavement, illuminated one side of his face and left the other in shadow. For a moment she thought he would agree, give her a simple yes, to what seemed to her to be the essentials for a true marriage. But it was taking him a long time to say that single syllable.

‘I will be faithful to you,’ he said when the apprehension about his reply began to knot her stomach. ‘I will involve you in decisions. I will protect you, and our children, with my life. I will not lie to you. Is that enough, Rose? Because you are asking me to become a different person from the man I am if you think I can open up my mind and my feelings like that. I’ve been alone too long.’

Was she being unreasonable? Rose found she did not know. Then she realised what it was that she was really asking. Do you love me? Can you ever love me?

‘That will have to be enough,’ she agreed, then heard the disappointment in her own voice. ‘I’m sorry, I sounded grudging and I did not mean to. It was honest of you to say what you did and I respect that.?

??

‘Thank you. You are a romantic, Rose. I am not, that is all it is. Now, may I have a kiss goodnight?’ He took off his shako, bent to touch his lips to hers.

It was polite, sweet and quite unlike Adam. But at least it was the kiss of a man she could trust.

Chapter Eighteen

‘Whatever is the matter, Catherine?’

‘It’s The Times for last Thursday. Papa left it on the table, I suppose he picked it up at the Reading Rooms yesterday evening.’ Rose mopped her eyes, blew her nose and folded the paper down beside her breakfast plate. ‘It is the Duke of Wellington’s dispatch and reading it… Oh, dear, I can’t seem to stop crying.’

‘You know why, do you not?’ Her mother directed a swift glance at the closed breakfast room door. ‘The time of the month. Things will happen just as they should tomorrow. That is good news. I must confess that the thought of facing down all the gossip and arranging a hasty wedding was weighing on my mind.’ She reached for the coffee pot. ‘I think I will begin to drop hints about the major and then when anyone raises an eyebrow I will make it quite clear it is a love match and we are still discussing whether to hold the wedding here in a month or two, or perhaps in Paris if the major is ordered there, or England. Nice and vague and not at all concerned about haste.’

A love match. Rose eyed her damp handkerchief and sniffed resolutely. Stop it. Stop wishing for the moon and be grateful for what you have. Be thankful you are marrying a man who will not lie to you for an easy life. ‘You seem quite reconciled to Adam, Mama.’

‘I must confess that I am, much against my better judgement. He is so reassuringly large and fierce. Not that I mean I have seen him being fierce, but he very obviously can be and I like that he is protective of you. And I had such a comfortable coze with him yesterday. I meant to tell you, but what with one thing and another it slipped my mind.’

The thought of Adam having a comfortable coze with anyone, let alone her mama, was so improbable that Rose dropped her slice of toast, marmalade side down.

‘How? I mean, where?’

‘I met him just after I had left you at Madame Fanshaw’s for your dress fitting. He took me for tea at that darling little café off the Grand Place.’

‘And you had a comfortable coze? With Adam?’

‘I had to carry the conversation, of course. No man is at his most articulate in a bijou café full of society ladies while he is trying to eat dainty macarons without getting pistachio cream on his uniform. But I gave him great credit for not running away and for having very gentlemanlike manners and for not trying to do the pretty and persuade me he is not what he is.’

‘He did not mention meeting you,’ Rose said faintly, trying to imagine Adam perched on a tiny chair, faced with overly sweet pastries and fragile cups while a room full of ladies either ogled him or shot disapproving looks and his mother-in-law-to-be made lethally innocent conversation.

‘I am not surprised, poor boy,’ Lady Thetford said.

Poor boy? Adam? ‘I am glad you like him, Mama.’

‘Now, Mrs Grace’s dinner party tonight. Will you feel up to attending or should I make your excuses?’

‘I will be quite all right, I am certain, Mama.’ Rose found a smile was curling her lips. ‘And I cannot wait to tease Adam about the macarons.’ They drank their coffee in companionable silence for a while before Rose recalled something she had been meaning to do. ‘I would like to call on Mrs Moss, Adam’s landlady, and return the clothing that she loaned me, now it is laundered. Might I take the carriage?’

‘Of course, dear. And one of the maids. Just send the carriage back straight away, I will be paying some calls this morning, dropping hints about the major.’