A Ring For The Pregnant Debutante. Laura Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ I’ve met an English gentleman who has offered to escort me back to England. He seems very capable and I feel safe in his company, even if he is rather forceful and confident in character.

      Now I have the biggest favour to ask of you. I know if I return home my mother will send me back to her family in Italy and if that happens they will take my baby away from me. Caroline, can I come and stay with you whilst I wait out the rest of my pregnancy and work out exactly how to live my life as the mother of an illegitimate child? For I will not give up my baby for anyone, no matter what the future brings.

      I remember you saying you have a certain freedom now Lord Trowridge has passed and I wonder if I can impose on you for a short while? I would be happy to be hidden away, or to live a simple life in one of the cottages on your estate.

      I have no money and nowhere else to turn. Caroline, I’m sorry to ask so much of you, but I hope one day I will be able to repay you.

      We will be leaving Italy any day now. Lord Hunter is just tying up a few loose ends from his life here and then we will be starting our journey back to England. I am not sure of the exact date we will arrive in Dorset, but perhaps I might call on you when we arrive to hear your answer.

      I cannot wait to see you and young Rupert again.

      All my love,

      Rosa

      Rosa sat back, folded the letter in half and slipped it into the envelope. She was asking a lot of her old friend, maybe too much, but she didn’t have much choice. Caroline was kind and loyal and wasn’t one to worry overly much about what others thought of her. Rosa knew her oldest friend wouldn’t hesitate to take her in, but that didn’t mean asking was any easier.

      ‘Who are you writing to?’ Thomas asked as he sauntered across the terrace, tossing a ripe orange up in the air and catching it with ease.

      ‘Caroline, the Dowager Lady Trowridge,’ Rosa corrected herself. ‘She’s my oldest and dearest friend.’

      ‘She sounds severe.’

      Rosa laughed. No one who had ever met Caroline would describe her as severe.

      ‘She’s twenty years old, no more than five feet tall and laughs at absolutely everything.’

      ‘Not your average widow, then?’

      Thomas was of course right, despite there being many young widows in society, the term often conjured up images of statuesque women in their later years presiding over a large family with an iron will.

      ‘Not your average dowager,’ Rosa agreed. ‘She married at eighteen, had her son at nineteen and was a widow by the age of twenty.’

      ‘Poor girl.’ Then Thomas paused. ‘Or maybe very astute.’

      Rosa rather thought it was the latter. Caroline hadn’t protested when the childless Lord Trowridge had started courting her, she’d actively encouraged it. He was kind, wealthy and willing to give her years of independence in exchange for a short time dedicated to making an old man happy. Rosa thought the union had been a success; Lord Trowridge had got a pretty young bride for the last months of his life and now Caroline was in charge of her son’s upbringing and the entire Trowbridge estate until Rupert came of age.

      ‘I’ve informed her of my plans to return to England and asked for her help when we arrive.’ Rosa took a breath, then pressed on. ‘I’m sure she would be happy to lend me the money to reimburse you for the travel expenses.’

      Thomas shrugged. ‘It doesn’t cost that much for a passage from Italy to England, I’m sure I can afford it. We can find another way for you to repay me.’

      Rosa’s eyes widened and she felt the blush begin to creep into her cheeks.

      Thomas threw his head back and laughed heartily at her expression. ‘I meant you can cook me another one of those delicious meals.’

      Rosa’s blush deepened, but she resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands. Of course Thomas wasn’t proposing she repaid his kindness with intimacy. Throughout the week she had stayed with him there hadn’t been even a flicker of flirtation from him. He had meant it when he’d told her that her virtue was safe with him on the first evening of their acquaintance, he hadn’t behaved improperly once. Rosa knew she should be thankful, especially after her awful experience with David, but she felt a tiny surge of disappointment every time Thomas didn’t take an opportunity to get closer to her.

      Gaining back control of herself, Rosa smiled. ‘Next time I’ll add less garlic.’

      It wouldn’t be quite so galling if Rosa didn’t feel her heart start pounding in her chest every time Thomas stepped in close to her. He was an attractive man, his body toned and muscular from the early morning swims and his eyes full of mischief and laughter. Rosa knew she never wanted to get involved with a man again, but Thomas tested her resolve sometimes. At least when he wasn’t ordering her around or teasing her.

      ‘Signora Felcini is coming to cook tonight,’ Rosa said. ‘So I’m sure I can persuade her to give me one last lesson before we leave.’

      The elderly Italian woman who came in to cook and clean for Thomas a few times a week had taken Rosa under her wing. She ordered Rosa around in rapid Italian and expected her to chop and help with the evening meal, but in return Rosa was treated to a lesson in rustic Italian cookery. In Rosa’s mind it was a fair exchange.

      ‘I have made arrangements for us to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Your family are causing a bit of a stir searching for you nearby, so I think it would be prudent to leave as soon as possible.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Rosa said quietly.

      She still wasn’t quite sure why Thomas was helping her, it wasn’t as though he got much out of their arrangement, just trouble from the Di Mercurios and the expense of transporting her to England. Whatever his motivations Rosa was keen not to examine them too carefully; Thomas was her only hope now she was penniless and stuck so far from home.

      * * *

      Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow, adjusted the bandages on his hands and squared up to the punch-bag hanging from the branches of the sturdy olive tree. Quickly he hooked and jabbed, dancing lightly on his toes around the inanimate opponent.

      He’d learned to box at school, along with all the other sons of the gentry, classes where their wiry games master instructed the small group on the basics of boxing. Of course that had been no use for the real world and nearly four years ago, when he’d first been beaten and robbed on his journey through Europe, he’d vowed to learn to defend himself better. The first year of his travels he’d been attacked five times. It was unsurprising really. He was a well-dressed young man who needed to carry money with him—a prime target for any ambitious criminal. After each attack Thomas had retreated for a while, licked his wounds, then restarted his training with renewed vigour. He picked up techniques from the countries he visited, practised his defensive and attacking modes every day, and soon he no longer had to hide his modest purse on his person or avoid the more unsavoury areas of the cities he visited.

      Now training every evening had become part of his daily routine, just like the refreshing early morning swim in the lake.

      With one last high kick Thomas began unwrapping the bandages from his hands. He loved this feeling just after he’d exercised, the heady mix of exhaustion СКАЧАТЬ