Flynn took another bite of the pie he was truly enjoying. He remembered how poor some were in Ireland. He had not realised she’d been one of them. Tanner’s generosity could give her a secure, comfortable life. This was the perfect opportunity to convince her of the advantages of accepting his offer. If he could even convince her to meet Tanner, she would learn this for herself.
‘We need to discuss your meeting with Tannerton, Rose,’ he ventured.
She stared down at her plate. ‘Yes. I have promised you we would do so.’ She looked up at him. ‘So speak. I shall listen.’
The force of her eyes drove all words from his mouth. ‘Perhaps after our meal,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘Tell me more of King’s Theatre, then. Tell me of its interior.’
So he talked of King’s Theatre, Drury Lane, Covent Garden, as well as other smaller theatres he’d attended. He told her of the sopranos he’d seen: Catalani, Camporese, Fodor, among them. She listened, eyes dancing in delight at his descriptions, and he found himself wishing he could share such experiences with her.
She served him a simple dessert, strawberries and cream, and after she cleared the dishes away, she said with a twinkle in her eye, ‘Shall we retire to the drawing room, then?’ She gestured to the two cushioned chairs near the fire. ‘I’ll make tea.’
He sat while she poured hot water from the kettle into a teapot. Though their conversation had been comfortable before, they now lapsed into a strained silence, broken only by her questions of how he took his tea.
She sat opposite him and poured, placing one of the sweetmeats he’d given her on the saucer.
‘Rose …’ he began.
She attempted a smile, but it vanished quickly. ‘I know. We must talk.’
His brow furrowed, and he felt like whatever silver tongue he might possess had been badly tarnished. ‘Let me arrange a meeting with Lord Tannerton, Rose, before Greythorne becomes more of a problem.’
She frowned at him. ‘Do you mean meet Lord Tannerton, or something else?’
He picked up the sweetmeat, but could not bite into it. He returned it to the saucer. ‘A meeting only. You are not obligated for more.’ It was becoming torturous to think about the more that would eventually transpire once she accepted Tanner.
She stared into her teacup. ‘And later?’
He could not look at her. ‘If you find him … agreeable, there is no limit to what he might do for you.’
‘Ah, but it is what I must do.’ she murmured, her voice trailing off.
He gave her a puzzled look. What was her reluctance? She was not without experience in such matters. She was friends with Katy Green, after all, whose station in life was very clear. Katy seemed to take the marquess’s interest in Rose as nothing unusual. And Rose had alluded to other liaisons—those gentlemen who drove her in Hyde Park, for example. A connection with a wealthy marquess ought to be eagerly sought after. Unless.
He straightened his back. ‘Rose, is there another man.?’
‘Interested in me, do you mean?’ She pointed to a tray of cards on the table where he’d placed his hat and gloves. ‘Those fellows, I suppose.’
He shook his head. ‘I mean a man who interests you.’
‘Me?’ It took a moment for comprehension to dawn. ‘Oh!’ She blinked rapidly, then raised her liquid emerald eyes to his. ‘No, Flynn,’ she said in a soft, low voice. ‘There is no one else.’
He stopped breathing.
Finally she averted her gaze. ‘Why do you ask such a thing?’
He picked up his cup. ‘You have persistently avoided talking about the marquess.’
‘So you thought it must be another man.’ She regarded him with an ironic expression. ‘‘Tis not enough I might not fancy being bartered like some fancy item in a shop.’
He stared at her. ‘You are not being bartered.’ Though he feared she had captured the essence of the matter.
‘Of course I am,’ she said, her tone pragmatic.
But why did she dislike it, if she would come out the winner?
She stood. ‘Never mind it. I’ll meet your marquess.’ She crossed the room. ‘Tell me when.’
He walked over to her, making her look at him. ‘Are you certain?’
She cocked her head. ‘I’m certain. But I’ll not be obligating myself further than that. And I’d prefer Letty and my father not be a part of it.’
He had no difficulty agreeing with that.
‘And no gifts, if you please.’
That was unexpected, but easily done.
‘And you must be present.’
He gave her a surprised glance. ‘I?’
‘Yes, and it would not look very well if I were the only woman with two gentlemen, so I would like Katy Green to come as well.’
He nearly winced. ‘Miss Green?’
She looked up at him through her thick lashes. ‘I do not want to be alone.’
‘I will arrange it,’ he said in a resigned tone. He’d not imagined being forced to watch Tanner charm her.
She gave him a brave but false smile. ‘Good. That is settled. No need to talk of it further.’
She drummed her fingers on the long wooden box that rested on a table in the corner of the room where they stood. ‘Let me show you something,’ she said suddenly.
He raised his brows.
She smiled with mischief. ‘Watch.’ She opened up the box to reveal a small pianoforte. ‘Isn’t it a treat?’
He laughed. ‘Yes, a surprise as well.’
She ran her fingers lightly over the keys. ‘It belonged to my mother. To take with her when she travelled in those days she was singing. It is in fine sound, too. Listen.’
She pulled up a small stool and rested her fingers on the keys, playing random chords until she began a tune he recognised only too well, though he had not heard it for over a decade: ‘Shule Agra.’ She sang:
His hair was black, his eye was blue
His arm was stout, his word was true
I wish in my heart, I was with you …
He’d sung the song of a sweetheart slain for the Jacobite cause with the rest of his family at his mother’s pianoforte. When Rose came to the chorus, Flynn could not help but join her.
‘Shule, shule, shule agra …’
He closed his eyes and let the sound of their melding voices float around him and seep into his skin, sending him back to Ballynahinch, to home and family.
‘Go thee, thu Mavourneen slaun,’ they sang, holding the last note for several extra beats.
She rose and turned to him and their gazes held. ‘Beautiful,’ he said, bewitched.
Without thinking, he brushed his fingers across her cheek. Her eyes darkened and she leaned closer to him. His nostrils gratefully inhaled her sweet clean scent, like the flowers in his mother’s garden. She tilted her face to him, so close he could feel her breath against his skin.
He lowered his head slowly, wanting for just one brief moment to find home again in her lips. She remained perfectly still, waiting. His lips came closer, so close their breath mingled. A half-inch more and he would taste her—
Voices