13: Love & Reputation

It took Rosemary only minutes to change out of her ball gown into a day dress, but with every second it took the maid to tighten her laces she grew more and more agitated. When she was finally decent, she all but dashed for the stairs, her rapid footfalls muted by her slippers. As quickly as her body moved, her mind raced faster, trying to determine what exactly she wanted to say to Alexander Kilroy. There was a confession, she knew, dancing on the back of her tongue, but she wasn't sure if she was brave enough to say it. She rushed through the foyer, her palms meeting the parlour doors with a thud as she pressed her way inside, her gaze searching for Alex's.

Instead, she found grey eyes above a dark beard.

DeGeorge inclined his head at her, allowing her a moment to muster her rather shocked expression into a polite smile. "Good morning, Mrs Albright."

"Lord DeGeorge..." His name escaped on her breath, carried to him by the fervent gust of wind that swept past as the parlour doors swung closed behind her. It took her a moment, but she mustered a quick curtsey. "Good morning."

As she rose, the fog in her mind from too little sleep and too many memories receding some, her conversation with DeGeorge the previous night sliding into place instead. Heat rose in her cheeks as she realised she had quite forgotten his non-proposal in the midst of Alex's... well, actual proposal.

DeGeorge seemed oblivious to her embarrassment. "Forgive me for calling so early..."

Rosemary was barely listening. Instead, she was trying to find the words to tell the man that she couldn't marry him. It wasn't as if she hadn't rejected marriage proposals before – she'd had a half dozen since Harry's passing, some more serious than others – but DeGeorge was the first who had considered her feelings at all. And to add to it, she had lost her easiest excuse: she could no longer say 'I am not interested in marriage'.

And 'I am not interested in marriage to you' felt unconscionably rude.

"Mrs Albright..."

Rose's eyes came into focus on DeGeorge's rather concerned expression, his brow deeply furrowed as he took a step towards her.

"Are you well?"

She was sure she didn't look it. A quick glance in the mirror had revealed sallow skin that darkened noticeably beneath her eyes, and the maid had done the best to tame her hair back into a braid with only some success. Now she loitered in front of the door, her feet arranged in the awkward remnants of her curtsey, staring at a man she barely knew with mild horror. She was sure she looked a sight!

"Perfectly well, thank you," was all she said as she made herself move further into the room. She sunk onto the edge of the settee, her hands clasped demurely – if a little tightly – in her lap, and looked up at him. "I am glad you called, Lord DeGeorge, as there is something we must discuss."

The man's brow smoothed slightly, and his beard twitched. For every bit that she looked a fright, DeGeorge looked quite dapper in a navy coat with brass buttons and a matching top hat held against his side. She hoped this was not a matrimonially-inclined outfit choice.

He crossed the room, taking a seat at the other end of the lounge, his torso angled so that he could look her directly in the eyes.

"Please," he said, "let me speak first."

Rosemary was already shaking her head: it was better for his pride if she rejected him before he actually asked the question. "It's best if I-"

"But I ought to-"

"If I can just-"

"Mrs Albright!" It was the loudest DeGeorge had spoken in their short acquaintance, but there was no anger in his voice. Perhaps just some... exasperation. "I must insist that I speak first," he said, his hand reaching out to settle atop hers.

Good Lord! Rosemary took a long steadying blink to prepare herself. She had done her best to dissuade him, now she could only deal with the consequences of what he said next.

"Although perhaps it does not matter, as I imagine we are both trying to say the same thing," DeGeorge said, following his words up with perhaps the most confusing physical contact Rose had ever had with a member of the opposite sex: he patted her hand.

Rosemary stared at him, squinting through his beard to see the half-smile that was lurking beneath. "The... the same thing?"

The man nodded, a lock of dark hair breaking free of his well-styled coif and settling at his temple. "I..." He gave the smallest of shrugs. "Forgive me, but may we continue with the frankness we shared last night?"

She could only nod.

DeGeorge withdrew his hand from hers, leaning more comfortably against the settee and resting his arm along the back. His top hat was still tucked firmly beneath his other arm, the very picture of dapper comfort. "I came here this morning to tell you that you need not give any more thought to the questions I asked you last night. Not on my account at least. And in turn, I assume you have come downstairs to tell me that your answers were not in my favour anyway."

Actually, she'd come downstairs to answer another man's question, but Rose didn't feel it was wise to bring that up now.

Slowly, she nodded. "I am sorry, Lord DeGeorge, I-"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "You need not be."

Strangely, she believed him. There was no resentment or embarrassment in the creases around his eyes, and no sign of the emphatic man who had asked her to consider both marriage and marriage to him. The change was surprising, but not unwelcome.

"Then I am not," she said eventually, a real smile tugging at the corners of her lips for the first time. "May I ask why you have had this change of heart?" She relaxed into the lounge herself, her fingers tingling as she unclasped her hands and let them rest easily in her lap.

DeGeorge's beard twitched. "You are a very lovely woman, Mrs Albright," he said slowly, "but I do not make a habit of marrying young women who are in love with other men."

Rosemary's mouth fell open with an audible pop.

"I... You..." She had no words. Her hands fluttered in her lap, occasionally moving towards her face in hopes of hiding the bright colour in her cheeks before going limp and falling away once more. It was embarrassing for her dear friends and family to suggest she was in love with Alexander Kilroy. It was humiliating to have a relative stranger point it out. As many young women had before her, Rosemary turned to outrage in the face of such humiliation. "Lord DeGeorge," she snapped, "that is most inappropriate."

DeGeorge was too good of a man to grin at her distress. But only just. He inclined his head, hiding the barest of smiles. "I apologise, Mrs Albright, I did not mean to offend you."

She huffed and shifted in her seat, resisting the urge to fan her flaming cheeks. The cushion dipped beneath her as DeGeorge turned to face her more directly. Once again he reached for her hand, squeezing gently until she raised her eyes to his. Whatever humour he'd been failing to hide had dwindled away, leaving his usual seriousness in its place.

"I wish you nothing but happiness, Mrs Albright."

Rosemary believed him, and the last of the tension in her shoulders escaped on her next exhale. There was still an inordinate amount of hot embarrassment in her chest, but beneath that, there was... peace. She'd been worried about his reaction, but she need not have been. She gave his hand a squeeze in return and opened her mouth.

A rumble of voices in the foyer cut her off. The butler's normally calm and even voice was growing steadily louder, a combination of growing nearer to the sitting room and his increasing tension. Rosemary glanced over her shoulder at the door, concern crinkling her brow, and wondered whether perhaps she should go to the poor man's aid.

"...is in the sitting room as I said." The butler's words were sharp and close. There was a quick rustle and a small thump that bowed the parlour doors slightly inwards, and then he continued. "I must insist that I be allowed to ask Mrs Albright if she is receiving further visitors, and you cannot- Well I – Mister Kilroy, I –"

Rose's lips parted in surprise, and she felt her stomach fall clear away. Alexander. There was no time to think anything else – the door was flung open, the archway framing a lithe, dark figure and the ruffled older man who was trying to prevent his entry. The butler blustered and apologised and glared at Alex with as much annoyance as his training allowed. She must have said something to dismiss him or allow Alex's entrance, and the miffed man closed the doors to the room a little too firmly. Rose wasn't entirely sure though, as her attention never left Alex.

He stood just inside the room, towering over her perch on the settee, with a serious frown. His hair was brushed back from his face, the curls frizzy from being raked aside, and he was unshaven with a swathe of stubble from ear to chin. He was hardly dressed for calling with no coat or hat and a cravat so dishevelled that it might as well have been from the night before. In fact, it was from...

Rose's eyes found Alex's then, meeting his intense stare with her own unwavering gaze. She could feel her own startled expression, her wide eyes and open mouth and complete inability to speak, but she could do nothing but meet his gaze and wonder that her heart didn't beat itself right out of her chest.

As she watched, Alex's attention shifted from her to DeGeorge, his brow creasing further, before his eyes flicked quickly to her lap. She only remembered the other man's hand on hers when his dark eyes turned almost to black.

Before she could move or pull away, DeGeorge rose and issues one of his perfunctory bows.

"Mister Kilroy, good morning," he said, his tone so polite and even that it was almost out of place in the room.

Rose saw Alex's throat bob as he swallowed.

"Lord DeGeorge," he said. His tone was not as polite, but he did manage to incline his head at the other gentleman. Then his attention was back on her, taking her in from head to toe. "Are you alright Rosi- Rosemary," his lip twitched as he swallowed the nickname, "you seem distressed."

He shot DeGeorge a look – there was no doubt where he placed the blame for her 'distress – and stepped closer to her, placing Rose firmly in the middle of the two men. She tried to assure him that she was alright, but there were no words. She could only look at him and wonder how she'd never realised she how deeply she cared for him.

Whilst Alex's concern grew, DeGeorge cleared his throat. "Mrs Albright is well, she and I-"

"Who are you to speak for her?" Alex snapped, his head whipping to the side. His expression was a needle shy of a glare, reprimanding and demanding at once. He swallowed again, and she saw the muscles of his neck ripple as he schooled his dark features into a less aggressive mask. "Unless there is some news I've not yet had the..." The slightest pause. "... pleasure to hear."

DeGeorge shook his head. "No, there is no..."

Alexander's shoulders relaxed a fraction.

"Well, actually, perhaps there is news."

Rosemary felt Alexander's response like a ripple through the air, but she did not see it: her own head whipped around to cast her wide-eyed stare at DeGeorge. He still looked amicable, his hand clasped behind his back, but she thought she saw his lips twitch beneath his beard.

"You are-"

This time it was DeGeorge who interrupted, speaking over Alex's gruff question without a hint of apology. "The news is that Mrs Albright and I have decided to be friends."

He was definitely smirking. Rosemary was both amazed to learn that Lord DeGeorge had a sense of humour, and aghast that he'd decided to use it today. She shot to her feet, the sudden rush of blood turning her dizzy for a moment as she held her hands out from her sides to catch herself. Both men reached for her as she wavered, but it was Alex's arm she took. He was warm and sturdy beneath the sleeve of his shirt, comforting amidst the turmoil inside.

She did not see DeGeorge's smile as he pulled back.

"Yes, that's correct. Lord DeGeorge and I are friends." Her voice was stronger than she'd feared, and louder too. Only an arm's length from Alex, she'd almost yelled it at him. Rather than flinch away, he seemed to waver towards her, his heavy brow lifting slightly as his eyes warmed. She was familiar with that change, the way his anger with the world dissipated when he looked at her, but now she knew what it meant.

Her lips parted as she took a slow breath, not quite sure what she was about to say, but knowing she-

"I overheard-"

By God, was that man still here?! DeGeorge's voice startled them both, and beneath her grip Rose felt Alex stiffen.

"What did you hear?" He demanded, stepping forwards as his glower returned.

To his credit, DeGeorge seemed unfazed, his polite smile parting as he tried to speak. "Only that you both-"

Alex's chest rumbled as he turned his hand over, gripping Rosemary's in his as he pulled her in behind him. He stood between her and DeGeorge, almost trembling.

"Rumour and gossip!" he snapped, cutting the other man off. "I did not have you pegged as a man so easily influenced."

DeGeorge frowned. "I am not..."

The situation reminded Rose of moments earlier, when she and DeGeorge had both been fighting to tell the other that they were not interested in marriage. She pulled on Alex's arm.

"Alex."

He did not hear her, and he was not about to pause for DeGeorge to continue. "That you would believe anything the Ton says about Rosemary shows how undeserving you are of her..."

The other man had apparently given up on trying to defend himself, but Rosemary still attempted to interrupt the tirade. She pushed around to Alex's side, her skirts scraping against the settee, and gave his hand another firm squeeze as she tried to draw his attention. "Alex!"

He shook her off. "...and that you would set her aside because of such unfounded libel makes you a cad of the highest-"

Rosemary's own temper flared. She stepped bodily in front of him, giving a rather rough push against his chest as she snapped, "Alexander Kilroy, will you be quiet!"

He stumbled back a step, more in surprise rather than due to the force of her push. She took advantage of his silence.

"Lord DeGeorge has paid me no insult, you... buffoon!" She punctuated that with another push against his chest, but this time she lingered. Alex did not need further invitation to capture her hands beneath his, pressing her palms against his heaving chest.

There was a sigh behind her. "You are very well suited – neither of you will let me speak, even when it's to your advantage," DeGeorge muttered so quietly that Rose was not convinced she'd heard him correctly. His mumbling did draw Alex's attention though, and he raised his chin to stare at the other man. DeGeorge seems to seize his opportunity. "As I was saying, I heard that the two of you were being encouraged to wed but it wasn't until I saw your dance last evening that I realised it was an inevitability. And as I said to Mrs Albright, I do not pursue young ladies who are..." He cleared his throat as Rosemary's heart leapt into hers. He couldn't say what he'd said to her, he couldn't... "involved with other men."

Rosemary hoped Alex couldn't hear her thundering heart in the silence that followed.

"Oh," he said after a very long time, his brow furrowing one more. "My apologies Lord DeGeorge, I did not-"

"Not at all, Mister Kilroy." DeGeorge sounded genuinely unoffended. "I understand completely. Now..." His voice travelled as he circumvented the chaise, stepping into Rosemary's view as he inclined his head at her. "If you'll excuse me, I'd best..."

"No!" Rosemary dragged one hand free from Alex's startled grip, throwing it out in DeGeorge's direction.

"No?" The question came from both men, and it was difficult to tell which sounded more put out.

The heat which had seemingly only just faded from Rose's cheeks returned as she fought to explain. "I... Forgive me, I promised my mother I would not further the rumours about me and Alex by being unchaperoned again." She swallowed, squeezing her eyes closed quickly as if that would take some of the awkwardness out of the request she was about to make. "I realise this is rather unorthodox, Lord DeGeorge, but would you mind..." she winced, and perhaps even let out a squeak. "... staying?"

No one in the room was in favour of this plan, but neither could they oppose it.

DeGeorge's beard could not hide his discomfort. His fingers worried at the brim of his top hat as he nodded. "Yes... well..." He brightened. "Perhaps I can find the butler!"

He strode from the room, making sure to leave the doors open in his wake, and his footsteps echoed back at them as he searched for the man.

Rosemary was left with a small, bemused smile that froze in place as Alex slowly reached her escaped hand and drew it back towards his chest. His fingertips left trails of fire across her skin, and she could feel his heart pulsing beneath her hands as surely as she could hear her own. Should took a long, shaky breath in, trying and failing to settle the emotion in her chest, before she raised her chin to meet his eyes. Such dark eyes, beneath a heavy, frowning brow, but there was light in them. For her.

"You read my letters?" She felt his words as surely as she heard them.

"I did," Rose said softly, feeling tears prick at the back of her eyes. "Properly, this time. I didn't.. Back then I didn't realise..." She shrugged lightly. "I'm sorry, Alex."

He shook his head quickly, black curls dancing across his forehead. "No, don't be, I'm sorry I never told you properly." He lifted one hand to her cheek, his thumb skimming beneath her eye to catch any tears that dared break free. She curled her own hand into the front of his shirt.

"I have spent my life worrying about what the Ton thinks of me and I-"

Rose interrupted him with a light shake. She wanted to reach up and smooth the confused crinkled from his brow, but she didn't dare. "Forgive me, but you've been brave already. Now it's my turn."

He nodded slowly, and it pained her that she saw him brace himself for her words. That he didn't know she-

DeGeorge cleared his throat from the doorway. "I'm sorry to say, it appears Mister Kilroy scared your butler off rather thoroughly..." He did indeed appear sorry to have to say that. His gaze never left the ceiling as he sidled into the room, walking to the furthest corner of the room taking a position facing the wall. "What lovely crown mouldings in this room," he said, mostly to himself.

Rosemary did her best to ignore him. "I have spent my life telling myself that I do not worry what the Ton thinks of me, but I was wrong. From the moment I was presented to society, there were whispers and opinions about how I should dress and behave and talk to. When I married Harry, that all stopped." She swallowed heavily, her grip on Alex's shirt tightening. "That wasn't why I married him – I loved Harry – but he was... an escape as well."

She was sure she was doing this wrong, but Alex didn't seem to mind. His thumb stroked her cheek soothingly and he looked down at her patiently.

"After he died," she continued, "I convinced myself that nothing the Ton wanted for me could make me happy. It turns out I've got a bit of a stubborn streak." Her lips twitched into a smile.

Alex nodded sagely - "I'm well aware." – before his own smile broke through.

Rosemary looked at him. She remembered the boy she'd followed around as a child, and the young man who wrote her – only her – letters that she had so looked forward to, and remembered seeing how hurt he was by the whispers around him. She saw the man who was angry at the world but always had gentleness for her, and she felt the heat in her stomach when he looked at her just so.

"I've decided to stop keeping score with the Ton," she said, forcing her hand to unclench against his shirt as she reached for the crease between his brows. "They can agree with my choices if they want to, but the choices are mine alone."

His eyelashes fluttered as she ran her fingers across his forehead, the wrinkles fading beneath her touch. "Harry was my first husband," she said quietly into the space between them, "but as it turns out: you, Alexander Kilroy, were my first love."

Alex's eyes flashed open so quickly they startled her, and she flinched away with a gasp that turned to a laugh. His mouth was open, corner's upturned, and his brown eyes were positively sparkling.

DeGeorge cleared his throat again. Rose watched the same irritation she felt play out across Alex's face, and drew out a giggle.

"I'll go find your cook and see if I can't arrange a pot of tea." DeGeorge announced to the room, crossing quickly to the door – again, without looking at them – where he paused. "It might take me, oh, three or four minutes?"

And then he was gone.

Rose raised her eyes to Alex's but strangely, he wasn't there. He had put a few steps of distance between them, standing with his arms cautiously outstretched like he expected her might spook.

"Your 'first' Husband?" He clarified. When she nodded, his smile twitched. "That phrasing implies that you might be willing to take a second."

"Well, I was proposed to in the middle of a waltz last night – most inappropriate, might I add – and I'm inclined to..." He was smiling so widely – so uncharacteristically happy – that she took a moment to toy with him, shrugging her shoulders. "Accept."

As quickly as he'd formed the gap, he closed it, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tightly to him. She laughed, her arms resting across his shoulders.

"You seem to have glossed over the part where I told you I loved you."

He released her only slightly, letting her slide down the front of him until she was on tiptoe with their chests pressed together. Their faces were close, so close that she could feel his breath dance across her lips. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his hands warm against her waist. "I plan on discussing that part at length for the rest of our lives."

His fingers brushed against the fabric of his dress, sending gooseflesh spilling in all directions as they drifted higher, flattening across her rib cage and holding her where he could see her clearly. His mouth opened, closed, opened again, before pulling up wryly at the corner. "I love you too. I always have."

She believed him, oh how she believed him. As his hands drifted higher, his thumbs grazed the undersides of her breasts and her breath hitched. The heat was back in her belly, and it pulled her towards him. As he said, they had the rest of their lives for talking.

"We only have three or four minutes, Alex..." Her voice was breathy, hardly her own, but it did something magical to the sparkles in his eyes. "And if you don't kiss me I-"

Alex and Rosemary might have kissed then. Alex's hands might have found their place across her jaw and brought their lips together, and Rose might have finally buried her fingers in his soft curls. There might have been gasps and panted breaths and the pressing together of bodies which could not get any closer whilst there were clothes in the way, and whispered I love you's might have filled the room like a hum.

But when Lord DeGeorge returned three or four minutes later with a confused maid and a pot of tea in tow, Rosemary and Alexander were sitting a respectable distance apart on the couch, engaged in polite conversation, with both their hearts and their reputations intact.