A Most Mysterious Gentleman (#1 Sweet Nineteenth Series) VERY SLOW UPDATES

AMMG ~14~

Rosalie was burdened by her state of feminine distress. Since when had she been such a pansy? Her eyes were closed to avoid the unnecessary shedding of more tears.

She was acting more delicate than the locket around her neck. She clutched it, missing the warmth of her mother. She would have known what to do, been able to comfort her and moan about the arrogance of men.

Though she was being quite nicely comforted now. She couldn't resist the urge to snuggle further into his arms as her father and the physician spoke. He was warm in a nice way, and his big hand holding her little one made her feel protected and comfortable.

She was disgusted with herself, she was losing the will to be angry at him when he was like this, like a toy bear, similar to the ones she had snuggled with as a child.

But he had said those cruel things. Did he really see so low of her? That she would- the word seduce sounded strangled even in her mind- him? She knew she had a loose tongue, but did that constitute of a woman of that social standing?

She thought back to the study where he had 'compromised' her. She had used all her strength to shove him up against the wall, and she had slapped him. And he had not touched her in anger.

I suppose his faults with me are proven by my actions.

She heard the physician, the same one from before, mention 'laudanum' and something about 'how the rest would fix the emotional response and the physical reaction to the operation'.

Henry stood up, carrying her with one arm around her back and one around her knees like a child to another room, separated by his by two doors.

She opened her eyes, trying to accustom her eyes from the candlelight to the darkness. She felt him bend down and lay her on a soft bed with silk light sheets.

She heard four other footsteps and then her father's voice and the physicians broke the silence as Henry plumped her pillows and put the covers over her.

"Sweetheart, the physician says you cannot be moved for a while so you will rest here, I will retire to another bedchamber down the hall so if you need me I'll be here. You will have a dose of laudanum to rest your weary body." She felt his hand clasp hers and she held it tightly.

She accepted the dose and fell into a deep sleep.

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Henry heard her soft sigh of sleep and shut the door behind him hearing the physician and the Duke muttering ahead of him in the hall.

Stephen accosted him, "the lady's personal maid has arrived with her clothing for the morrow."

Henry glanced at his friend's unusual colouring, red painted cheeks, not bothering to examine the reason as to why.

"Put her in one of the ladies' rooms. I assume someone settled the Duke in his quarters?"

"Yes, he rather chose him own rooms."

Henry grinned, it was something he could imagine Trent doing.

"Very well, settle the lady and go to bed," clapping him on the shoulder, "it's been an interesting night."

"Hm, very interesting."

He watched his friend's retreating form left wondering at the nature of his last comment.

He walked slowly down the hall, aware his back muscles needed to stretch and warm to glaze over the pain. He reached his doorknob before hearing a low voice.

Turning his head he saw the Duke walk to him with a grim look on his face.

"Trent," he bowed his head.

"Richmond. I have a matter to talk to you about."

Henry sighed internally, "shall we make our way to my study for a brandy perhaps?"

"Most agreeable."

The walk down to the study was in silence as each dissected the night's interactions.

Henry poured to healthy doses of brandy into his favourite glasses, marked in glass with the family crest, heirlooms and worth a lot.

It was fine brandy, his nose twitched as he smelt the fruity fumes before taking a small sip. He looked up to the Duke take a large swig and totally finished the glass.

Sensing the surprise, the Duke slightly sheepishly smiled, "fine brandy that."

Henry savoured the liquid, enjoying the light burn down his throat. "What is it you wish to discuss?"

"I want you to marry my daughter by the end of the week. I have already achieved a license and before I left to come here after learning Rosalie was in no immediate danger, I sent out invitations for the important guests to arrive for the wedding, only family and no-one who will gossip at the quick notice. Rosalie of course will need a wedding trousseau, but I believe that there is someone in your villages who makes fine garments, and Rosalie has already mentioned how she wanted to wear her mother's wedding dress. I know a vicar who will do the ceremony, I saved his son's farm with my sponsorship so I suppose he will feel indebted."

The words blurred as Henry took in what the Duke said, finding himself irrationally irritated with his flop of hair that kept falling over his forehead.

The Duke's words were less rushed and monotone this time. "You utterly compromised her this time Richmond, the villages saw you riding off with her, and it's only a matter of time before it's the talk of the ton."

Henry sat heavily down in his chair. He wasn't even sure if he really liked the chit yet. Yes she was beautiful, any fool knew that, but she was stubborn, aggressive, loose tongued, immature and she kept being rude to him, though he grudgingly accepted that he'd done the same to her.

This time, he was the one taking the swig of brandy. "I'll do right by her of course, but she's a Duke's daughter, won't the ton expect a large ceremony? Won't she?"

"There's no time."

No time. Time. What was the time? Early morning no doubt.

"What does that mean 'no time?"

"The ton, or at least the immediately close gentility will hear about it by the morrow I expect."

Closing his eyes to these thoughts, he heard the Duke dismiss himself, and reached for another bottle of brandy.