Page 61 of In the Bed of a Scoundrel Earl

Chapter Twenty-Six

In the fortnight that followed, Rose remained optimistic of her future with Dorian, throwing herself wholeheartedly into wedding arrangements and delighting in the resumed sense of cheer that Dorian showed in her company. He seemed calmer and more earnest, and she knew that had everything to do with the discussion they had shared that night, two weeks prior. Indeed, he had been more affectionate, and sweeter, and gentler than before, constantly ensuring that her health was improving and that she was feeling better.

“All is well again, Rose, and that is all because of you,” Hudson had reassured, on numerous occasions since that trying night, which added to her surety that the worst was behind them. “I have seen him in every possible state of mind, and I know when the stormy waters have calmed again. He will not give you cause to panic again.” She had finally agreed to refer to him as “Hudson,” after much insistence on his part, but she still felt somewhat peculiar, speaking to him so informally.

Determined to suppress any residual, worrisome thoughts that might creep in to trouble her, Rose had suggested, and Hudson had encouraged, the idea that Dorian might like to accompany her into London to select fabrics for the surprise wedding dress that she had designed and planned to bring to life.

“Ah, London. We meet again.” Dorian flashed Rose a half-smile as the carriage came to a halt outside a fine establishment on the Strand. “I confess, I owe this city a great deal for bringing you into my life. Perhaps, I might learn to be fond of it, for granting me that gift.”

“Nevertheless, we won’t stay too long,” Rose promised, with a chuckle. After all, this city held worse memories for her than it did for him. “I’ve an idea of what I want. I just have to see if they have enough.”

Dorian leaned in to kiss her forehead. “For you, I would endure London all day. Take as much time as you desire, my doe. This dress is important to you, as it is to me, and I would not rush you in your endeavors.”

She adored this side of him, where he was visibly relaxed and attentive to her, finding any excuse to hold her hand and be near to her. Especially as she was still feeling somewhat sorry for herself, with her leg still slightly sore, so the extra care and attention were very much appreciated. She was just grateful that the physician had permitted her to walk again, and it appeared that her hardy constitution had aided her in healing quickly, despite the ongoing aches.

“Shall we?” Rose gestured to the carriage door.

He nodded. “Of course, my doe.” He stepped out and offered his hand to her, making sure to keep her close to his side as they walked toward the shop, so she could lean into him if the weight proved too painful for her leg.

Since they had begun sleeping next to one another, chaste yet always enveloped in one another’s arms, she had grown accustomed to waking up to him and watching him as he slept. His nightmares had not returned. At least, that was what he professed, and he did not have the haunted expression in his eyes to convince her otherwise.

“I am here,” he said, as though he had read her mind. “I am not going anywhere. I made my choice. If you are not afraid, then neither am I.” He flashed her a warm smile. “I love you, Rose.”

She grinned with genuine joy. “I love you, too. So very much.”

“Now, let us get lost in silks and lace and… whatever else is required for a gown.” He chuckled as he led her into the shop, but the laughter did not last long.

The moment they set foot in the grand establishment, where rolls of Indian and East Asian silks were racked up like strands of a rainbow, and exquisite gowns with immaculate Van Dyke sleeves were on display, the entire room fell silent. Even the proprietors gaped from behind the counter and upon the shop floor, where they were mid-discussion with the upper echelons of society.

“It seems gossip spread further than we thought,” Rose whispered, feeling immediately ashamed of herself. Being engaged to an Earl did not make her a fine lady of good station and family. To these horrified members of theton, she was a laundry maid who had been exceedingly fortunate in snaring a titled gentleman.

“Pay them no heed.” Dorian covered her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Silly of me to think I could evade notice. They can probably sniff out someone who doesn’t belong.She had tried to dress for the occasion, wearing a pale, blue topaz dress of brushed satin, but she supposed it was much like tying a fancy ribbon on a sow.

Keeping her promise to Dorian, she went directly to the counter and ordered what she desired, already knowing what fabrics she required. True, she would have liked to observe their offerings, in case there was a nicer alternative, but the cruel chatter of the peerage prevented her.

“Is that her?” she heard one whisper.

“I hear he plucked her off the street if you understand my meaning,” another added, a little too loud to be considered discreet.

A third snickered harshly. “Let us hope this news does not reach the brothels, or we shall all have to dance at balls with a horde of uneducated, unrefined ladies of the night. Although, it seems rather unjust to even call them ladies.”

“That dress does not even fit her. Look at how it bulges at her waist,” an older lady, presumably one of their mothers, muttered. “Most gentlemen have the common sense to pay their mistresses a sum of money when they are with-child and have them sent away. He has always been a queer one. Look at those eyes, ladies, and be warned.”

“She is with-child?” the first of the ladies exclaimed, no longer trying to be hushed.

The older woman shrugged. “Why else would he parade her around in high society, claiming that she will soon be a Countess, while other ladies of status and position are expected to become…baronesses?” She visibly shuddered.

Rose’s cheeks burned with humiliation. “Just those please,” she said to the proprietor, grateful to have Dorian beside her, to shield her from any possible refusal. “Might you have them sent to Langston House in the next few days?”

The proprietor offered her a sympathetic glance. “Of course, Miss.” He looked to Dorian. “Will you be making payment now or upon delivery?”

“On delivery, and there will be an additional sum if you can deliver it by tomorrow,” Dorian replied, raising his voice so the gossipmongers would hear.

The proprietor smiled. “Certainly, My Lord. I will have that done for you.” Rose realized the proprietor did not care who purchased from him, as long as they paid well, and on-time.

“Thank you, sir.” Rose dipped her head and tugged gently on Dorian’s arm. She no longer wished to be here, under the stares and glares of the peerage. That was the beauty of Langston House: the staff might have gossiped, but at least they did so with a modicum of respect. At that moment, Rose longed to return to their bubble, where they could just exist as Rose and Dorian, instead of a circus attraction.

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