The tall man had a broad grin on his face as he offered a bow. "Never say you have the boldness to flout propriety by going about alone! I am delighted to discover this about you."
Rosalind gritted her teeth. "I must shatter this illusion you have formed of me. My maid has been delayed. No propriety has been ignored."
"Never fear, dear Lady Evan, I am undeterred. I shall learn all there is to learn about you."
Uncomfortable with his effusive declaration, Rosalind took a step back. "Good day, Mr. Rowley."
But he did not move on. "What kind of a gentleman do you think I am? It is clear you have no conveyance to return you to Lady Thomas' house. Come. My carriage is right here, and it would be my honor to escort you."
Get into a carriage with a man who was not her husband? Without even her maid as a chaperone? Absolutely not! "Thank you for the offer, but I would rather walk," Rosalind said as a strong gust of wind caught her pelisse. She adjusted her grip on her paper wrapped books. If she got out of sight of Mr. Rowley, she could hail another hackney to take her to her brother-in-law's house.
"Alone?" Mr. Rowley shook his head, tutting. He held his arm out to her. "I shall walk with you and see you safely home. It is the least I can do for you. And allow me to carry your purchase for you."
Arguing any further would create a scene, and passersby were already giving them curious looks. Though the last thing she wanted was to be beholden to the man for everything, Rosalind reluctantly handed over her books. She began to walk, ignoring his arm.
"And what literary treasure did you find for yourself today?" Mr. Rowley asked as he fell into step beside her.
"Something to amuse me," Rosalind said, choosing vague words on purpose. She saw no reason why she should tell this man anything. "It is not important."
"Oh, it must be, for you purchased two volumes. Let me guess. One of these must be mind-improving. Perhaps sermons? And the other, I would wager, is a scandalous novel you wish to hide from your husband."
"Not at all," Rosalind said, annoyed with his last statement. "I wouldn't dream of hiding anything from my husband, especially not a book I am reading."
"Then you didn't purchase a novel?"
With a huff, Rosalind kept her gaze forward. "I did not say that." Why was the man taking such an interest in her reading habits? "I did choose two novels. My cousin and I find them entertaining."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mr. Rowley watching her. There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity but in reality, could only have been a few seconds. "I am surprised," the man said, "that given your background and your parents, you would not choose to avoid the scandal that most novels thrive on."
"Scandal?" Rosalind repeated, unable to keep her shoulders from tensing. "What do you mean?"
"Come now, Lady Evan, even a sheltered lady such as yourself must know about your father's affair with Mrs. Fisher and the son they had together."
Rosalind's heart skipped a beat. "How can you make such an accusation?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Do you have proof of what you say?"
"The lady's word, which cannot be questioned, of course," Mr. Rowley said, his tone unconcerned. "I may not have met your father, but I am assured young Master Simon looks remarkably like him."
"Unsubstantiated rumors. Perhaps she exaggerated facts. I've known people to do so before." Rosalind said, though she felt shaken by his words. An affair? Her father? Mr. Rowley had spoken with such certainty, but how could he be right? "Why would you tell me such a thing?"
"Why, I only wish to warn you as you may meet. Mrs. Fisher goes about anywhere. I will grant you, few know your father also fathered her son, though the matrons will remember how they hung on each other."
Confused, Rosalind shook her head. "And what would it matter to me whether I meet her or not? If you hadn't said a word, I wouldn't have been aware of her past."
"Those who know would have laughed behind your back."
Mr. Rowley's innocent tone did nothing to relieve Rosalind's suspicions concerning his motive. "It would not be the first nor, I am certain, the last time such a situation occurred," she said.
"And Mrs. Fisher is the type to cause trouble," Mr. Rowley continued. "You can be sure she has heard about your elevation and is already plotting to make the most of it. How would Lord Evan's mother react to your father's ignominy, I wonder?"
"I presume she is already aware of it. There is little my husband does not tell his mother."
Mr. Rowley caught her wrist and pulled her to a stop. Astonished, Rosalind glanced from his hand to his face. "Let me go," she said before he could say a word. She tried to pull away, but the man's grip was too tight. "Now."
"Dear Lady Evan, I only thought you should know this sooner rather than later," he said earnestly. He tucked the books under his arm and then used his left hand to wrap around her hand. "I know it is painful to hear of your father, but surely knowing is better than being in ignorance to why all of the matrons whisper around you."
Two young ladies stepped around them, their gazes curious. "Mr. Rowley, let go of me this instant," Rosalind said, aware that his grip looked amorous. "You are causing a spectacle. You have said what you wished. Now leave me alone."
The man released his hold and stepped back. "I am yours to command, dear Lady Evan," he said as a hackney slowed a few yards away.
"Lady Evan!" a familiar voice called out. Mrs. Landon stepped out of the hackney. "What luck finding you today! My friend, you must let me take you up."
Relieved at the interruption, Rosalind nodded. "Of course," she said. She held her hands out to Mr. Rowley. "My books, if you please."
"I look forward to hearing of the novel you are reading the next time we meet," Mr. Rowley said, returning the books to her. He gave a bow. "Until next time."
"Goodbye, Mr. Rowley," Rosalind said over her shoulder as she hurried to her friend. As soon as she was safely inside, she let out a breath. "Thank you for stopping. I thought I would never be rid of him."
"Of course," Mrs. Landon said, a concerned frown on her face. "Are you well? Was he annoying you?"
"Very much so." Rosalind looked down at her wrapped books. "I thought I would avoid trouble by bringing my maid, but I don't know where she went while I was browsing the books. I hope she did not meet trouble."
Mrs. Landon pursed her lips and shook her head. "Well, now that I have you with me, shall we go to Gunter's?"
Going into such a busy, public area was the last thing Rosalind wanted to do. However, she forced a smile and said, "That would be wonderful."
****
Just as he had before, Even left word that he was unable to join his wife for the dinner party that night. Disappointed not to be able to confide in her husband as soon as she would have liked, Rosalind pleaded a headache and begged to be excused as well. With a roll of her eyes, Henrietta accepted the excuse without comment and left with her husband.
Picking at the food on the tray delivered to her room, Rosalind was left to the mercy of her own thoughts. If only she knew what her father's feelings had been. What had possessed him to humiliate her mother by taking on a mistress? Especially one who would cause trouble if she could?
"Papa's journal," she said aloud, remembering the leatherbound volume she'd seen her father writing in nearly every day when she was a child.
But what had happened to the journal? In fact, were there any papers left from her parents?
Without having eaten more than a bite, Rosalind hurried from her room to the sitting room. She sat at the desk and uncapped the ink. Breathing out, she contemplated how to word her request.
Dear Aunt Lawrence,
How are you? Lady Ormund says you intend to remain near Sir Percival to assist him however you can. I admire your resolve to stay away from the Season this year. Your affection for Sir Percival is admirable.
Being in London has reminded me of my parents. When my mother died, were any papers or letters saved for me? My father used to keep a journal, and I would very much like to read it now that I am old enough to understand why he took his own life...
As she wrote, Rosalind wondered if her plea would be in vain. Aunt Lawrence had never approved of her or her mother. It wouldn't be a surprise at all if she learned her aunt had burned every piece of paper she got her hands on. Still, it was a chance she had to take.
She ended the letter and sealed it. Though it was too late for it to be sent, she took it to the hall and placed it where it would be found first thing in the morning. In the meantime, all she could do was wait.
After she prepared for bed early, she dismissed Ingram and then paced her room, unable to sit still for even a moment. Her new novel was of no interest to her now. What need did she have to read of drama when she had been thrust into a drama of her own?
How often had she teased Emily when her cousin compared their lives to that of heroines in a novel? Emily would delight that the tables had turned.
"Darling? What are you still doing up?" Evan asked as he entered. "I expected you to be in bed, resting your feet after an evening of dancing."
With a start, Rosalind faced him. "Evan. What time is it?"
"Nearly two o'clock," her husband said with a laugh. "How did you lose track of time? Did you enjoy your evening at the Harpers?"
"I had a headache so I did not attend," Rosalind said, reaching out for the embrace she had been longing for all day. Her husband was quick to oblige. "I've been worrying so."
"Over what?" Evan asked, his tone concerned. "What's happened? Did Rowley do something outrageous?"
The last question was asked in a fierce tone. "No! Nothing like that at all!" Rosalind said swiftly. "It....well, I suppose yes, he did. It has to do with my father. Oh, it's such a tangle. I don't know what to think."
When she tilted her head back, she could see clearly the puzzled frown on her husband's face. "Your father? Rowley? What do you mean? What's happened?"
Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, Rosalind launched into an explanation of what had happened. She kept her voice low in case there were any servants about to overhear the conversation. When she finished, she held her breath, waiting to see Evan's reaction.
"You think he was telling the truth?" he finally asked, his expression impossible to understand.
"He must! Why would he invent this story if there was nothing to it? To hurt me? Why?."
Shaking his head, Evan rubbed her arms. "I'm sorry you had to hear that kind of news in such a blunt way," he said, sympathy in his voice and expression. "No wonder you were unable to sleep, my poor darling."
"What am I to do about it?"
"Do about it? Why should you need to do anything about it?" Evan asked in surprise. "Rose, you are not the first to discover one's parent has not been faithful and indiscreet in the action." He paused. "True, few would have the audacity to speak of it to you in person as Rowley did. It is best just to forget about it. Your father's son has not asked anything of you, has he?"
"No," Rosalind said with reluctance. "But Mr. Rowley said I might meet Mrs. Fisher in public and that others would take notice."
"Why would they? What does Rowley think she might do? She would hardly wish to expose her own unfaithfulness. She would not be met with kindness by society if she did so, even if many suspect the truth."
Evan's words were reasonable. "That's true, but why else would Rowley think to mention it?"
"I think he enjoys trouble, nothing more than that" Evan said, his tone soothing. "I know this is upsetting, and I love you all the more for it. This boy Rowley mentioned is young enough you will not encounter him in society, so there is no need to worry about how you ought to treat him."
Sighing, Rosalind nodded. "I wish I could know what my father was thinking. He loved my mother so much. I saw it every day. How could he betray her?"
"Whether or not your parents loved each other, they are not here," Evan said with the first sign of impatience. "Rosalind, you cannot allow yourself to worry over what has happened in the past. Nothing can be changed about it. All you can do is affect your future, and if you harp on the past, you will only weigh yourself down."
"Why ever do you put up with me?"
"Because you are my Rose," Evan said, putting his arms around her. "How about we go to bed and put this behind us?"
"Yes, of course," Rosalind said, though she wasn't sure it would be as easy as that.