"I and my honor are eternally grateful for the crowd," Rosalind assured him.
"Well, for the moment at least you are my prisoner," he said with a grin, and circled her waist with his arm.
Rosalind laughed and punched him lightly on both shoulders with her fists. The next moment she was being very thoroughly kissed and clasped against the full length of him. She felt the kiss change tone after the first teasing moments. His mouth became urgent, his breathing faster. His hands roamed her back, molding her to him, and finally pressed down on her hips. Rosalind deliberately allowed the experience. She did not flinch even when his mouth trailed a hot path to her throat and his hands came up to cup her breasts through the thin muslin of her dress. But it was a clinical experience. She could not force herself to feel part of the embrace.
"A frustrated lover indeed," he said ruefully, and nibbled at her earlobe. "I cannot do any of the things I wish to do, love, in this standing position. And there is no grass on which we may lie down. Was ever such a pair of star-crossed lovers?"
"We almost rival Romeo and Juliet," she replied, pushing herself away from him in some relief. "And there are going to be several suspicious people on the bank opposite if we do not reappear soon."
"Ah, the voice of reality and common sense," he mocked as he took her arm and led her carefully back down to the boat.
The picnic proceeded with a great deal of gaiety when all members of the party had returned to the starting point. Sylvia's unusual quietness and Rosalind's forced high spirits did not attract any particular notice.
Sir Bernard Crawleigh, it seemed, was far from satisfied with the events of the afternoon. When the whole party arrived at the house, Rosalind would have ascended the staircase with the rest of the ladies to rest and freshen up for dinner. Her leg was feeling uncomfortably sore after the rather long walk. But her betrothed caught her by the hand and pulled her unnoticed to a reception salon opening off the main hall. He led her inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He drew her to him and kissed her.
"I begin to think it was a mistake to accept the invitation to come here," he said, holding her head against his shoulder. "I find being this close to you more disquieting than seeing you only formally in London."
"Well, in a few more days we will be back there, Bernard," she said, raising her head and lightly kissing his chin.
"Love, let me come to you tonight," he said, clasping her to him again urgently. "I shall make sure that I am not seen, and I can promise you a night of great pleasure."
Rosalind bit her lip painfully. "We are not married yet," she said.
"But we will be soon," he argued. "What difference can a couple of months make, love?"
"Bernard…" she began.
"Hush," he said, stopping her lips with his again. "Don't say no. I know it is only that maidenly modesty of yours that makes you hesitate. You want me, I know it. I shall come tonight and we will make love in peace and comfort."
"Over my dead body," a quiet but cold voice said.
Rosalind jumped away from her companion as if she had been scalded. Where was he? Sir Bernard Crawleigh cursed under his breath and stood with fists clenched at his sides, staring at the high back of a chair above which the top of a blond head was just visible.
"What in thunder are you doing here, Raymore?" he said tightly.
"I am here by invitation," the earl answered, rising to his feet and turning to face the couple who stood just inside the door. "I was shown in here to await Standen's return home. It seems the butler did not quite know what to do with me when I arrived two days earlier than expected."
"You might have made your presence known a great deal sooner," Sir Bernard said testily.
Raymore's face hardened. "It seems to me it was a good thing I did not decide to interrupt a lovers' tryst sooner than I did," he said coldly. "Miss Dacey is my ward, Crawleigh. I am responsible for her conduct until she marries. I find your behavior quite reprehensible. Were you not betrothed to her and within a few months of your marriage, I should feel obliged to call you out for the words you just spoke."
"I think it is well that you remember that Rosalind will soon by my wife," Sir Bernard said, obviously making an effort to hold on to his temper. "And remember, too, Raymore, that she is not a girl from the schoolroom. She is old enough to decide for herself the degree of intimacy she will allow between herself and her future husband."
"Please!" Rosalind interrupted. "Let us end this argument. Bernard, I gave you my answer. And, Edward, I would thank you to at least try not to treat me like a child. I resent your constant interference in my affairs. Soon I shall owe complete loyalty to Bernard."
Raymore's eyes flashed and he turned his attention completely to his ward. Rosalind steeled herself for the type of blazing row that always seemed to erupt when he and she were together. Fortunately, perhaps, for both of them, the door of the salon opened at that moment and Lord Standen walked briskly into the room.
"Raymore," he said, "I cannot think what my servants are about keeping you here like an unbidden visitor instead of showing you to a room and seeing to your needs."
Rosalind, glancing at her guardian, was amazed to see that in the few seconds since she had last looked at him, his manner had been completely transformed. He was bowing and smiling amiably.
"Think no more of it," he said, all affability. "I insisted on staying here when I realized that I was not expected today. And your butler brought me refreshment."
"I see that Miss Dacey and Crawleigh have found you and have been entertaining you," Standen commented.
"Yes, indeed," Raymore agreed, smiling genially at the couple.
"I shall excuse myself," Rosalind said, dropping a slight curtsy. "I feel rather tired after the picnic and need to freshen up before dinner."
All three men bowed. Lord Standen held the door open for her as she left the room with lowered eyes. Raymore noticed that her limp was more pronounced than usual.
The Earl of Raymore had come to Broome Hall determined to have a peaceful holiday. Both his wards were safely betrothed to eligible men. His responsibility was almost at an end. He was determined to keep his distance from Rosalind whenever possible. He wanted to observe her with Crawleigh to satisfy himself that both wished the alliance. But he knew that he could never be close to her without quarreling with her in most undignified fashion.
Now, as he soaked in a bathtub of hot soapy water in the room that had been prepared for him, his valet assembling the clothes he would wear to dinner, he was feeling irritated. He had been in the house less than an hour before he had been arguing with her yet again. Why could she not be more like Sylvia? The latter had apparently gone straight to her room on returning from the afternoon's outing, just as she should. And he could not in his wildest imaginings picture Standen making to her the sort of proposition that Crawleigh had been making to Rosalind.
He did not know quite what to make of that episode or whom to blame. He had been almost blind with anger at the time. That Crawleigh could quite coolly suggest that he spend the night in her bed suggested a want of proper restraint in him. But what did it suggest about her? Surely no man would dream of proposing such a thing to a girl who had not given him much encouragement. And the thought of Rosalind flirting with Crawleigh and inviting his intimacies renewed the earl's anger to such an extent that he scrubbed his arms quite mercilessly and soon had scattered soapsuds in a wide circle around the bathtub. His fury was not in any way mollified by the sudden memory of himself making similar advances to Annette when he was betrothed to her. She had been no innocent, either.