A Vow for an Heiress Read online

  When he eventually raised his head there was fire in his eyes. Once more he proceeded to kiss her lips long and deep and hard, with a hunger that alarmed her. Such was Rosa’s own desire, the sudden, awakened fires, the hungering lust, the bittersweet ache of passion such as she could never have imagined, that she little realised the devastating effect her soft lips were having on him as he crushed his mouth to hers, invading, demanding, taking everything with a sensual, leisurely thoroughness, aching to sample the woman more meticulously.

  William’s hand slid from her waist to her breast and Rosa gasped when he caressed none too gently the tender mound of flesh beneath the fabric of her coat. Instantly her sanity returned. Some stubborn, protective instinct warned her to have a care. She was irritated by the way in which he had skilfully cut through her defences, but she could not deny the magnetic attraction that still remained beneath her irritation. After all that had been said between them she could not let this happen. She struggled furiously when he bent his dark head and his lips took possession of hers once more. Placing her hands against his chest, she pushed herself away with all the strength she could muster. She stood glaring at him, breathing hard, her green eyes burning, completely unaware of the vision she presented to William’s hungering eyes.

  ‘No more, William. Nothing can come of it.’ Trembling visibly, she moved away from him. She had been reduced to confusion for a moment, probably deliberately, but she had recovered herself quickly. ‘I don’t think I shall ever understand you.’

  ‘There is nothing to understand. I am but a simple man.’

  ‘You are not,’ she said vehemently.

  ‘I disagree.’ He was tempted to take her in his arms once more, but, seeing that she was struggling to control her rioting emotions, he restrained himself. ‘Come now, Rosa,’ he managed to say, smiling, though he himself was shaken by the moment. ‘It was only a kiss—an innocent kiss, nothing more sordid than that.’ Even as he uttered the words he was not convinced he was telling the truth. The lingering impression of that firm young body pressed to his own had done much to awaken a manly craving that had gone unappeased for some months.

  ‘A kiss that could have led to other things—which was what you had in mind had I not had the presence of mind to end it,’ she flared, furious with herself for not only responding to it, but liking what he had done to her. ‘You forced your will on me, forced me to kiss you. I did not invite you to do that. I am not one of your common women to be tumbled between the sheets and left to bear the shame. This was a mistake—one which I regret. Now I would like you to take me back to the carriage.’ She turned from him, trying hard to control her rising temper.

  ‘It was a mistake for you, maybe, but not for me. You see, I know you, Rosa. I know how you react to my kiss, to being in my arms. The next time you may not be so eager to leave.’

  She whirled in a flare of rage. ‘Why, you conceited, arrogant beast! There won’t be a next time. We are no longer affianced, William. You mean nothing to me and never will.’ As she spoke the words a picture of the self-assured, beautiful Lady Willoughby came into her mind and she almost shouted her suspicion of his relationship to the noble lady—which were totally groundless—but she managed to hold her tongue. ‘I am no longer the slip of a girl who rode to Ashurst Park to propose marriage in exchange for my wealth. I left her behind when I left Berkshire.’

  ‘My eyes confirm what you say, Rosa,’ he murmured, his eyes probing with flaming warmth into hers. ‘You are what any man would desire. You have whet my imagination to such a degree that my pleasure would be to make you my wife—despite your will to fight me.’

  She stepped back. Behind her lovely face she was outraged. The red blushes on her cheeks had settled into a dark glow, the flush of sudden battle in her face. Her retreat was necessary to cool her burning cheeks and to ease to some degree the unruly pacing of her heart. ‘Your wife? Have you taken leave of your senses? After all that you have done to me, how dare you say that? Because of you I have been hurt and humiliated. At this time my future is uncertain. Because of my sheltered upbringing I am a rather limited person, not given to over-optimism.’

  ‘It won’t always be so.’

  ‘I know. I will not allow it to be. It is not in my nature to simply sit and do nothing. But for now I am secure enough living with Aunt Clara, so leave me in peace.’

  William did not seem surprised or insulted. He looked at her for a long moment. He appeared to be deep in thought and contemplating whether or not to voice his thoughts. All the conflicting emotions that Rosa had always aroused in him flooded over him again with the knowledge that, although she had outwardly given the impression she had not been happy to see him, the eagerness of her kiss told him otherwise. Undaunted, he lifted his brows quizzically, a twist of humour about his beautiful lips. But never had he looked more challenging.

  ‘Come, I will return you to your aunt. She will wonder where we have got to.’

  Rosa was glad of the long walk back to the carriage. It gave her time to compose herself.

  Mrs Swinburn’s friends were just driving away when they reached the carriage and William helped Rosa inside. He turned when he saw Lady Willoughby sauntering over to them, brandishing her riding crop like a sword in front of her.

  Introductions were made and for a moment Rosa was completely at a loss for words.

  ‘I am happy to see you again, Miss Ingram,’ Lady Willoughby said. ‘I’m so sorry we didn’t become better acquainted when I met you at Ashurst Park, but time was of the essence. Berkshire certainly has its full complement of visitors in town.’

  ‘My appearance seems to have surprised Miss Ingram somewhat, Caroline,’ William said, his gaze passing meaningfully over Rosa’s calm features. ‘I can’t think why.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s because she didn’t expect to see you here,’ Lady Willoughby replied.

  ‘Then I am pleased that she didn’t know,’ William said, his eyes gleaming wickedly as they continued to hold Rosa’s wide-eyed gaze. ‘Had she known it might have caused her to stay at home and then I would not have had the pleasure of renewing our acquaintance.’

  Rosa glared at him. Acquaintance! Was that all she had been to him? An acquaintance? They were to have been married, for goodness’ sake! Her expression tightened. Until she could sort out her feelings, the kind of feelings she had never had to cope with before she was bewitched, weakened and challenged by William Barrington and his kisses, she was determined to remain calm, to brazen it out. ‘Forgive me, Lord Ashurst, but I think there has been a misunderstanding, for I am baffled as to why you would want to renew our acquaintance at all. Lord Ashurst and I were neighbours for a while,’ she explained to Lady Willoughby, ‘and have met only occasionally. Is that not so, Lord Ashurst?’

  He smiled at her with cynical amusement. ‘Our encounters may not have been frequent, but you cannot deny that they were by any means ordinary, nevertheless. I think we know and understand each other well enough.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Lady Willoughby said with a throaty laugh, glancing curiously from one to the other. ‘Oh, look—I can see Lord Marchant beckoning to me. Tiresome man. It’s a good thing his wife isn’t with him. As a widow and still in my prime, Miss Ingram, all the ladies suspect me of flirting with their husbands.’ She chuckled throatily. ‘In some cases they are not wrong, she said, a wicked twinkle dancing in her eyes. ‘My husband found me a bit forceful while declaring he loved me dearly, but he took every opportunity of getting out of the house on some pretext or other—usually to do with horses. I think he preferred horses to people.’ Casting her eye over the twittering throng, she said, ‘I have to confess that I am sometimes of the same inclination. Tell me, Miss Ingram, is there a man in your life?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Rosa replied, surprised by the question and trying not to look at William. ‘I have come to London to keep my aunt company—and I enjoy helping her wit
h her many charities.’

  ‘A noble occupation. A young lady who prefers to involve herself in charitable works instead of useless activities—I can only extend my sincerest admiration.’

  ‘I am no saint, Lady Willoughby—far from it. My father was forever telling me I am not ladylike, for I have this awful habit of doing the opposite of what I am told to do and arguing when I should be agreeing.’

  Lady Willoughby laughed throatily. ‘Then you are a girl after my own heart. None of us is perfect, Miss Ingram—but I dare say one day soon you will get married. A good-looking, sensible girl like you won’t remain single long with all these handsome bucks around.’ She gave her a direct stare. ‘It’s a pity you left Berkshire. I would have enjoyed calling on you.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so.’

  ‘While we are both in London I will make a point of inviting you and your aunt to one of my evenings. Be sure of it.’

  ‘Why—I—thank you. That is most kind. How is Dhanu?’ Rosa asked, addressing William.

  ‘He is very well.’ William looked at Lady Willoughby, who was looking from one to the other with interest. ‘Miss Ingram dived into the lake to save Dhanu when he tumbled in from the cascade. If not for her quick thinking, I shudder to think what would have happened to the boy.’

  ‘Goodness!’ Lady Willoughby exclaimed. ‘That was a brave thing to do. As far as I recall the pool below the cascade is very deep and I imagine incredibly difficult to get out of. You were right, Lord Ashurst, when you said your meetings with Miss Ingram were somewhat out of the ordinary.’

  ‘Miss Ingram swims like a fish,’ William said, his gaze settling on Rosa with a quiet admiration.

  ‘I am all astonishment. Unfortunately, I never learned. I wish I had. I would like my son to learn.’ Turning her head, she gave a snort of disapproval. ‘Lord Marchant is still beckoning. I really must go and see what he wants.’

  Rosa watched her go, unable to quell her admiration for the older woman. Since she could see nothing detrimental about Lady Willoughby, she could feel no resentment. Confidence simply oozed out of her.

  ‘And is your young charge with you in London?’ Clara enquired.

  ‘Yes. Dhanu is a lively, child and has the infuriating habit of escaping the watchful eyes of his nurse and finding his way out of the house at the first opportunity. Unfortunately,’ he said, addressing Rosa, ‘the problems that followed him from India remain.’

  ‘Then I hope you manage to keep him safe. How fortunate that you and Lady Willoughby are in town at the same time,’ Rosa remarked. ‘I’m sure you two will get on famously and find you have much in common.’ If she was hoping that her comment would draw William on his relationship with Lady Willoughby, she was mistaken. But when she caught the look of total absorption on William’s face as he gazed after his retreating neighbour, she felt she had been correct in her assumption that William and Lady Willoughby might have something going on between them after all.

  But she was totally bemused. When she had parted company with William Barrington so many weeks ago now, she had thought he intended severing all contact with her, yet here he was, going out of his way to see her. Why did he insist on this contact when he had no interest in her? What could it possibly mean?

  * * *

  When William Barrington was lost in the crowd, Rosa rallied as best she could, hiding her sharp disappointment. For her, something had gone from the day, something elusive, exciting and vital.

  Clara put out a gentle hand and laid it on her niece’s arm. Rosa turned and looked at her aunt, who was reading her face so clearly.

  ‘How I wish that things had turned out different for you, my dear, or that your dear father had found some other way to obtain his wealth,’ Clara said, her understanding of the situation complete.

  She never ceased to amaze Rosa, showing an ability to see in others what they kept to themselves. There were aspects to her nature that were gentle and hesitant, with a wisdom that became more profound the older she got. Rosa studied her aunt with the relief of one who does not have to explain anything.

  ‘I know you and Lord Ashurst parted with bitterness, Rosa, but, oh, my dear, how I do approve of your choice. I pride myself on being a good judge of character and I have formed a favourable opinion of that gentleman. He is just the man for you and it is the greatest pity he did not marry you. However, I admire a man who lives by his principles. Call me an interfering old woman, if you like, but I am not ashamed to say that I consider you and Lord Ashurst to be right for each other, and despite what has gone before between the two of you, if anything should come of it I would be extremely happy.’

  ‘I cannot ignore what he has done to me, Aunt Clara. It would be too difficult. How can I possibly overlook such humiliation?’

  Chapter Eight

  A week went by and Rosa caught neither sight nor sound of William Barrington. Clara came bustling into the house after a day doing her charity work. Rosa met her in the hall, having spent the day at home.

  ‘You look harassed, Aunt Clara. Have you had a busy day?’

  ‘Extremely,’ she replied, handing her hat and coat to the hovering maid. ‘I’ve just come from the institute in Ludgate. One of the women from Soho brought in an older child. She had some interesting information about a young boy who had been brought in earlier—a foreign child apparently, probably Indian. According to the quality of his clothes, he comes from a good home.’

  Rosa looked at her sharply, all her senses alert. ‘An Indian boy? How old is he?’

  ‘Young—about five years old, I think. The trouble is he is clearly traumatised and extremely distressed. He hasn’t spoken a word so we can’t find out anything about him.’

  Rosa frowned. ‘Five years old, you say. Where was he found?’

  ‘Close to Green Park, I believe—huddled behind a pile of rubbish. He was trembling and frightened, poor little mite. I’ll go and see him tomorrow—first thing. Perhaps he might have found his tongue by then and we’ll know more about him.’

  * * *

  Aunt Clara and Uncle Michael were visiting friends in Richmond that evening and would not be back until the tomorrow afternoon so Rosa was left alone. There had been so many social events of late and she had put in long hours at the institute. She had intended on catching up on some sleep and having an early night, but she couldn’t settle. She felt a peculiar hollowness in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Is something wrong, Rosa?’ Clara asked as she was preparing to leave the house. ‘Since I told you about the young boy you’ve been distracted.’

  ‘It’s just a suspicion I have. It is possible that the child is Dhanu. It’s probably just a coincidence but I am uneasy. I must go and see for myself.’

  ‘But is that wise? It will be dark soon.’

  Rosa was already ordering the carriage. ‘I’ll not rest until I know. Would you send someone to Lord Ashurst and tell him to meet me at the institute—just in case it is Dhanu. He lives in Grosvenor Square. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult finding him.’

  It was almost dark, the lamplighters lighting the oil lamps to illuminate the streets, when Rosa climbed into the closed carriage and told Archie, the driver, to take her to the institute in Soho. Nearing her destination, the streets were thronged with pedestrians. Caught up in the congestion the carriage paused. Looking out of the window to see what the holdup was, she had a peculiar sense of being watched. A man was leaning on a lamppost, looking directly at her. Her heart skipped a beat. The man was of Asian origin and there was something in the unswerving gaze of his yellowed eyes, some hint of expression in his face that struck fear in her heart. That it was Kamal Kapoor she had no doubt.

  Immediately she pressed herself back against the upholstery with a terrible sense of foreboding. Fear instilled itself into her heart—fear and desperation. If the boy at the institute was Dhanu, was it possible that they had
seen him and followed him?

  The institute was situated close to Soho and Seven Dials. The building stood in what was little more than a narrow passage. It had no lamps so it was shrouded in darkness. It was also congested with carts and barrels and crates of every description stacked high against the buildings so Rosa had to leave the safety of the carriage some distance away and proceed on foot. The institute was a well-built but grim-looking building in a small yard situated in an area where poverty and disease ran side by side.

  Aunt Clara found the time she spent at the institute and the one in Ludgate highly rewarding, particularly so when she found situations for the older children. Rosa had been to both several times, but the condition of its young inhabitants never failed to shock her. This institute in Soho had been brought into being ten years earlier, paid for by donations from wealthy donors with the intention of providing aid and provision for destitute children—a place of Christian charity. But it was always difficult to afford the necessities—coal and food.

  Inside, a score of undernourished children dressed in rags, their legs bowed and eyes enormous in pinched faces, were quietly sitting or lying on small makeshift beds or standing about. The windows were small, the furnishings stark, but it was warm and everything was scrubbed clean. The air was tinged with the aroma of cooked food, plain but appetising, and two women with aprons fastened about their waists passed among the children, doing what they could to make their lives more comfortable and lessen the fear that lurked in their eyes—fear of the world outside and the dangers it posed to those alone and very young.