A Rose At Midnight. Jacqueline Navin

perched on the edge of the chair and watched as he moved, as stealthily as any feline, to recline comfortably in the opposite chair. Crossing his long legs, he cocked his elbows on the tufted arms of the chair and folded his hands in front of his chin. Saying not a word, he gazed at her mercilessly until she spoke to fill the void.

      “You have many beautiful pieces.” Waving an arm toward a pedestal, she indicated the gorgeous sculpture set upon it. She was mortified to realize the piece was a particularly vivid depiction of two unclothed lovers in each other’s embrace. Quickly, she returned her hand to her lap.

      The half smile reappeared on his face. “Yes, I noticed you admiring them.” He meant, as she well knew, that he had seen her fussing over her appearance. It was this quip which caught her up short and enabled her to regain her head.

      She forced herself to sit back in her seat and return his stare with what she hoped was a look of defiance. She would be damned if she would flutter and gab to fill the silence. After all, it was his interview. Let him take the lead.

      Best not to think how desperately she wanted, needed, to win this position. How odd, to think of it that way, but it was the truth. She was applying for the position of his wife and future mother of his heir.

      Forcing aside discomfort, she sat unmoving under that strange stare of his until he finally spoke.

      “Please tell me about yourself, Miss Wembly.”

      She had prepared for this. “My name is Arabella Caroline Wembly, but I have been called Caroline since birth. I am twenty-two years old. I was born in London, and have lived there since I was a babe. My father was the second son of a marquess, and made his money in shipping, so we were somewhat well-off, though by no means wealthy. I was educated by a governess until the age of eleven, when I was sent to-”

      “Why are you unmarried at such an age as twentytwo?” the earl interrupted.

      The question was insufferably rude. Yet in this strange, almost absurd situation, common courtesies could not stand unaltered. Caroline drew in a bracing breath and answered. “1 did have two seasons when I was seventeen and eighteen, but no one caught my fancy.”

      “But I’ll wager you caught theirs, did you not?” He moved suddenly, leaning forward to peer at her more intently. How like a cat his movements were. A cat eyeing its prey. “How many marriage proposals did you receive?”

      “Several,” Caroline countered curtly.

      “Several, meaning two? Or several meaning twenty?”

      Caroline glared at him. The maddening way his gaze held her almost as tightly as a stifling embrace wore on her nerves. She notched up her chin and said, “I received nine marriage proposals, my lord.”

      “Good heavens!” he exclaimed, but she could see he was pleased at having baited her so well. “And did none suit?”

      “No, my lord.”

      “May I ask why not?”

      She gritted her teeth. “No, my lord, you may not.”

      He was deciding whether to anger or be amused, she could see. Damn him, and his impertinent questions. She wanted this so badly, but already he was prompting a most unattractive aspect of her nature to assert itself—pride.

      He finally shrugged. “I was merely curious. Now, tell me, Miss Wembly, how is it you came to hear of my.predicament?”

      This too, she had anticipated. “A friend of mine who is acquainted with a clerk in your solicitor’s office was told your lawyer was making inquiries as to young ladies of good breeding and poor situation to consider a marriage of convenience. As I matched that description, I went round to see Mr. Green and eventually was persuaded to make my application.”

      She was surprised she could say all of this without fluster, for thinking of the studious grilling she had submitted herself to under that vile Caractacus Green was most unpleasant.

      Think of James, she reminded herself, and managed a smile.

      “Ah, good. I instructed him to be discreet. I am already the target of much gossip. Pray tell, what precisely is your unfortunate situation.”

      Caroline cast her eyes downward. It was not difficult to speak of her circumstances, but she must tread carefully, for the full reason behind her presence here today, he must never know. “Upon my father’s death, my mother found his estates heavily mortgaged, and after the debts were settled, there was no annuity to provide for us. We had to sell our house and lease apartments in a modest neighborhood.” She did not explain about her father’s gambling debts, nor did she recount how the creditors had descended upon the house, swarming like a cloud of vultures and plucking up valuables like apples from a tree, before it, too, was taken. “I am presently employed at a bookseller’s shop. There is no longer any money for my portion, so marriage to a man of breeding is out of the question.”

      He took all of this in, nodding as if he understood. He did not. No one could. Who could imagine what it was like to see one’s life disassembled before one’s eyes?

      “All of your erstwhile suitors deserted you, did they?”

      he said in a quiet voice that was almost compassionate.

      “Which leaves you to come to me, a man who will be dead within the year, most likely. A stranger, and a wellknown reprobate at that. Which brings up an interesting point.” He cocked his head to one side, affecting a look of helpless appeal. “Which of the rumors about me, if any, have reached your ears? It is important to clear the air of these matters, so please, feel free to tell me.”

      He was trying to charm her, and she had to admit the lopsided smile and soft-eyed expression were incredibly bemusing. Even as she named it for the manipulation it was, her heart started to beat faster.

      “I have heard nothing,” she lied. She didn’t even care if he knew it.

      They were interrupted just then by the arrival of a troop of servants.

      “I took the liberty of ordering tea, as I assumed you would be in need of refreshment after your journey. Tell me, how do you find the accommodations at the Barrister’s Ordinary?” He relaxed now, leaning back as the butler and a pair of maids rolled in the cart and began spreading all the essentials on the teakwood table between them.

      “Very fine, my lord. It is a lovely inn.”

      “I trust your journey from London was not too tiresome.”

      “Not at all.”

      “Would you do me the honor of pouring out?”

      Caroline almost groaned, fearful her hand would tremble and not only betray her inner feelings, but scald the man whom she was so trying to impress.

      And not doing a very good job of it, she thought miserably. How she would have liked to stand right now and stalk out of this place with her dignity intact, but so very much counted on this.

      Thankfully, she did not disgrace herself. After the servants had laid out silver teapot, sugar, creamer along with two sets of china cups and saucers so thin she could almost see through them, Caroline determinedly took hold of the pot and poured two perfect cups of tea.

      Giving silent thanks for that small miracle, she settled back.

      “So, you have heard none of the gossip, eh?”

      “No, my lord.”

      “Not even the duel on the continent? I must say, I like that one. Rather dashing, I think. Completely preposterous, of course, but amusing.”

      “Oh?” she queried, angling a look up at him as she stirred cream into her tea.

      “You will hear a number of things about me, most, if not all of them, unflattering. I am what they call a controversial figure, that is to say my associates cannot decide whether I am a rogue or a scoundrel or a bounder or a cad. The truth is I am all of these, and none, if you will allow such a