A Ring For The Pregnant Debutante

‘He’s our neighbour, a boy I grew up with.’

‘Boy?’

Rosa grimaced. ‘Man. He must be twenty-seven or twenty-eight by now, I suppose.’

‘Old enough to behave better.’

‘You don’t know how he behaved.’

‘You’re here in exile in Italy rather than happily married in some country house in England.’

It was the truth, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. For a long time Rosa had imagined a life with David. A home of their own filled with beautiful children, the life she had been brought up to expect.

‘So what happened?’

Rosa shook her head. She really did not want to talk about this. Even uttering David’s name had the bile rising up in her throat and knots of tension forming across her shoulders.

‘How about you?’ she asked, desperate to change the subject. ‘Any great loves in your life.’

Hunter smiled and shook his head, ‘I’ve never found that special someone.’

‘But you’ve looked?’

‘Some people aren’t destined to settle down.’

It was an odd statement, one that made Rosa pause and study the man in front of her for a moment.

‘But you’re titled, you have an estate. Isn’t there a need for an heir?’

He shrugged. ‘The estate will pass to some distant relative when I die.’

Although it was said casually she could see the pain in his eyes at the idea. Whatever he might say, this was an uncomfortable subject for Hunter.

‘You wouldn’t rather it went to your son, your own flesh and blood?’

‘That is never going to happen so there is no point in mourning what never could be.’

‘Why—’ Rosa started, but a small hand tugging at her sleeve cut her off.

‘Please, miss, spare some money. I haven’t eaten for three days.’ A small girl stood looking up at her with large brown eyes in a skinny face.

Rosa hesitated and then reached for her coin purse. She might not have much money, and what she did have she needed for the passage home and her new life, but it was hard to ignore the real pleading in the young girl’s eyes.

‘Rosa, no,’ Hunter shouted, trying to grab her hand, but it was too late. As soon as the coin purse was out in the open an older boy swooped in and grabbed it from her palm. At high speed both he and the girl ran in different directions, weaving through the crowd.

‘No,’ Rosa whispered, her heart plummeting as she realised her whole future had just been ripped away from her.

Hunter was on his feet immediately, darting after the boy, but Rosa could see straight away he would never be able to catch him. Hunter might be fast, but the boy knew the streets and was small enough to slip between the crowds.

Gripping the edge of the table, Rosa felt her breathing become shallower and could hear a harsh rasping coming from her throat. Without any money she was doomed. She had the choice of life on the streets in a foreign country or crawling back to the Di Mercurios.

‘I can’t go back,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t go back.’

She looked down at the dress she was wearing, that would fetch her a small sum, but her modest jewellery had been taken from her by her grandmother when she had arrived at the villa. She owned nothing else in the world except the clothes she was wearing.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hunter said, returning to the table, his face flushed from exertion. ‘I lost him in the crowd.’

Rosa shook her head, unable to get any words out. She’d been so pleased when they had escaped the bandits with her purse intact, she’d never thought it might be at risk here in this idyllic village.

‘Was that all the money you had?’ he asked. Gone was his normal jovial tone, replaced by concern and compassion.

‘Everything.’

Hunter raked a hand through his short hair, causing tufts to stick up at the front.

‘I can’t go back to them,’ Rosa whispered again to herself.

Anything would be better than that. Maybe she could find work somewhere, save up the money for a passage home. As soon as the idea entered her mind she dismissed it. If there was no work for able-bodied young men then no one was going to employ a pregnant woman.

‘Rosa, look at me,’ Hunter said, taking her hand in his own.

As his fingers gripped hers Rosa felt some of her panic begin to subside. It was as if Hunter was tethering her to reality, stopping her from plummeting into a deep despair.

‘We will figure something out. All is not lost.’

‘That was all my money. Everything I own.’

Gently he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. Rosa looked up and met his eyes and realised that whatever he said she trusted him. It was ridiculous, she’d only known the man a day, but if he said all was not lost then maybe it would work out.

‘Come,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. ‘I need to think.’

She allowed him to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow, lay down a few coins for their drinks and lead her away from the riverside tavern. She leaned heavily on his arm, tapping the cane against the cobblestones for a little extra support, but out here in the heat of the day her ankle ached.

‘I’m ruined,’ Rosa murmured as they weaved their way through the crowds. Not ruined in the sense of a loss of virtue, that had happened many months ago, but all the way through her ordeal she’d had some hope, a plan to make things better.

Hunter didn’t say anything, just continued down towards the water’s edge.

‘Look out there,’ he said as they reached the promenade that ran along the edge of the lake.

Rosa looked, following the direction his extended finger was pointing in. The sun glinted off the water and in the distance the hills surrounding the lake were shielded in a thin heat haze.

‘What am I looking at?’

Hunter didn’t answer, he was looking down at his hand in horror. Rosa followed his gaze, but as soon as he noticed she was looking, too, it was as if a mask came down over his face and his hand promptly dropped to his side.

‘What’s wrong?’ Rosa asked.

‘Stay there,’ he ordered her, not giving her a chance to answer before striding off along the promenade.

* * *

He had to get away. Away from the crowds, away from Rosa’s concerned enquiries and away from the stifling heat that threatened to consume him. Forcing himself to walk and not run, Thomas headed away from the village.

‘Lord Hunter,’ he heard Rosa call in the distance, but her voice barely registered in his mind.

I will not look.

Resolutely he kept his eyes fixed on a tree in the distance, willing himself not to look down.

His resolve cracked within thirty seconds. The first glance was fleeting and brief, but when he saw his hands weren’t moving rhythmically and of their own accord he managed to gain control of himself a little and take a second look.

Sinking down on to the stone wall that ran along the lakefront, Thomas held his hands out in front of him. As he had pointed out over the lake there had been a definite tremor, an uncontrolled shaking of his hand. It had been small, probably unnoticeable to anyone but him, but he could not pretend it hadn’t been there.

Now his hands were steady and unmoving as he studied them. Thomas exhaled, trying to calm his racing heart and dampen the nausea that rose from his stomach. For a few moments he had thought it was the beginning of the end, that the disease that had claimed his father and his brother was starting to develop in him.

It always began this way—a minor tremor, an uncontrolled movement. Followed by memory loss, personality change and the ever-worsening rhythmic jerky movements and a loss of co-ordination. His older brother Michael had developed his first symptoms when he was just twenty and died at twenty-eight. Thomas’s age now. Their father had been a little more fortunate, surviving into his forties. It was a well-kept secret, the Hunter family curse, but generation after generation showed signs of affliction.

Maybe I’ll be one of the lucky ones.

It was what Thomas prayed for every day, that he would be one of the few the disease skipped. Not every member of the Hunter family was affected, but there was no way to know if you would succumb until the day you died.

Thomas rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes. Every morning he inspected his body for any unnatural movements, any clue that he might be developing the thing he feared the most. For a moment there he had been convinced that was it for him, that his time on earth was up. One thing Thomas was sure of was that he wouldn’t let this disease rob him of his dignity and his hope. If he was ever sure his turn had come, then he would find a more dignified way to depart this world, even if it was considered a mortal sin to commit suicide.

‘Lord Hunter,’ Rosa said as she approached him slowly, warily.

She’d followed him. Of course she had.

‘What’s wrong?’

He took a second, flashed a charming smile and stood. ‘Nothing, nothing at all.’

‘Then why did you run off?’

‘I have a proposition for you,’ he said, knowing it was the only way to get Rosa to drop the subject. ‘Let me escort you home.’

He had to smile at Rosa’s shocked expression: the gaping mouth, wide eyes and rapid blinking of her eyelids. Over the years he had become a master of concealing his fears of the illness that might one day claim him and distraction was a great technique.

‘Home?’

‘Back to England. To whatever friend you hope will take you in.’

‘Why would you do that?’

Thomas shrugged. He’d made the suggestion impulsively, but the more he thought about it the more he warmed to the idea.

‘I need to return home. I owe that much to my mother. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly to abandon you in your hour of need, so why not combine the two objectives?’

‘It’s too much, I could never ask that of you.’

‘What other options do you have?’

Rosa fell silent. She was in no position to turn down the offer of assistance in whatever form.

‘You are sure you’re happy to return to England? I wouldn’t want you to return solely on my account.’

Thomas thought about it before answering and found he was. It would be pleasant to stroll around his estate and reminisce with his mother. He knew he would not stay there indefinitely, but a few weeks, maybe a month, and then he could pick a new destination for his travels. Thomas found the idea of revisiting the home he had once been so happy in rather appealing and knew if he wanted to return for a short period he should do so soon. Who knew if he would get another opportunity?

‘Quite sure.’

Rosa shook her head in disbelief, then threw her arms around him.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

He had never heard two words uttered so sincerely or with such relief.

‘I will find a way to reimburse you any expenses accrued once we get back to England.’

Thomas waved a dismissive hand—the cost of a passage on a ship and a few weeks in various guest houses was the least of his worries. It wasn’t as though he would be able to take his money with him when he died.

‘Thank you, Lord Hunter,’ Rosa replied. Thomas could see she was struggling to hold back the tears.

‘Call me Thomas. We’re going to be spending much time together.’

‘Thomas,’ she repeated, smiling up at him.

‘And I shall call you Rosa.’

‘You do already.’

He grinned, took her hand and kissed her just below the knuckles. It felt good to have a purpose after all this time.

‘This afternoon we shall return to the villa. There are a few things I will need to tie up before we depart. I will arrange for us to leave early next week.’

He would terminate his lease on the villa. As much as he loved the comfortable dwelling and beautiful views, he realised it was time for him to move on. The momentary fear that he might be entering his last few months of healthy life had jolted him into action. There was more of the world to see, more to experience. He would travel home with Rosa, visit his mother for a few weeks and then spin the large globe that sat in his father’s study. His study. Wherever his finger landed, that would be where he travelled next.

As they walked back along the promenade Thomas tried to summon some of his normal excitement when contemplating a new adventure, but this time his heart was not really in it. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of home: the rolling green hills, the woods he’d played in as a boy, even the peaceful spot right at the edge of the estate where his father and brother were laid to rest.

Chapter Six

Dearest Caroline,

I hope you are keeping well. It seems like a century has passed since we saw each other last winter. I was very saddened to hear the news of Lord Trowridge’s passing. Please forgive me for the lateness of my condolences. I have been out of the country for some months, but you are never far from my thoughts.

How is young Rupert? I remember the week I spent with you in January with such fondness. He was such an adorable little baby and I’m sure he’s bringing you even more joy as he grows.

I do not know if any gossip has reached your ears down in Dorset, but I am in a little bit of trouble. These last three months I’ve been exiled from London, sent to stay with my mother’s family in northern Italy. I won’t bore you with all the sordid details, but I have found myself with child, and you can imagine Mother’s reaction to that little scandal.

Her plan was to tell the world I had gone to nurse my ailing grandmother—who is as strong as an ox and still shows up the young farmhands. I would reappear in society in a year and no one would be the wiser. My child was to be adopted by some Italian family and I would never set eyes on him or her again.

I know I should probably have been grateful, Caroline, but I couldn’t bear the thought of my baby calling someone else Mama. Out of everyone I think you would understand the most.

Anyway, I escaped and now I’ve met an English gentleman who has offered to escort me back to England. He seems very capable and I feel safe in his company, even if he is rather forceful and confident in character.

Now I have the biggest favour to ask of you. I know if I return home my mother will send me back to her family in Italy and if that happens they will take my baby away from me. Caroline, can I come and stay with you whilst I wait out the rest of my pregnancy and work out exactly how to live my life as the mother of an illegitimate child? For I will not give up my baby for anyone, no matter what the future brings.

I remember you saying you have a certain freedom now Lord Trowridge has passed and I wonder if I can impose on you for a short while? I would be happy to be hidden away, or to live a simple life in one of the cottages on your estate.

I have no money and nowhere else to turn. Caroline, I’m sorry to ask so much of you, but I hope one day I will be able to repay you.

We will be leaving Italy any day now. Lord Hunter is just tying up a few loose ends from his life here and then we will be starting our journey back to England. I am not sure of the exact date we will arrive in Dorset, but perhaps I might call on you when we arrive to hear your answer.

I cannot wait to see you and young Rupert again.

All my love,

Rosa

Rosa sat back, folded the letter in half and slipped it into the envelope. She was asking a lot of her old friend, maybe too much, but she didn’t have much choice. Caroline was kind and loyal and wasn’t one to worry overly much about what others thought of her. Rosa knew her oldest friend wouldn’t hesitate to take her in, but that didn’t mean asking was any easier.

‘Who are you writing to?’ Thomas asked as he sauntered across the terrace, tossing a ripe orange up in the air and catching it with ease.

‘Caroline, the Dowager Lady Trowridge,’ Rosa corrected herself. ‘She’s my oldest and dearest friend.’

‘She sounds severe.’

Rosa laughed. No one who had ever met Caroline would describe her as severe.

‘She’s twenty years old, no more than five feet tall and laughs at absolutely everything.’

‘Not your average widow, then?’

Thomas was of course right, despite there being many young widows in society, the term often conjured up images of statuesque women in their later years presiding over a large family with an iron will.

‘Not your average dowager,’ Rosa agreed. ‘She married at eighteen, had her son at nineteen and was a widow by the age of twenty.’

‘Poor girl.’ Then Thomas paused. ‘Or maybe very astute.’

Rosa rather thought it was the latter. Caroline hadn’t protested when the childless Lord Trowridge had started courting her, she’d actively encouraged it. He was kind, wealthy and willing to give her years of independence in exchange for a short time dedicated to making an old man happy. Rosa thought the union had been a success; Lord Trowridge had got a pretty young bride for the last months of his life and now Caroline was in charge of her son’s upbringing and the entire Trowbridge estate until Rupert came of age.

‘I’ve informed her of my plans to return to England and asked for her help when we arrive.’ Rosa took a breath, then pressed on. ‘I’m sure she would be happy to lend me the money to reimburse you for the travel expenses.’

Thomas shrugged. ‘It doesn’t cost that much for a passage from Italy to England, I’m sure I can afford it. We can find another way for you to repay me.’

Rosa’s eyes widened and she felt the blush begin to creep into her cheeks.

Thomas threw his head back and laughed heartily at her expression. ‘I meant you can cook me another one of those delicious meals.’

Rosa’s blush deepened, but she resisted the urge to cover her face with her hands. Of course Thomas wasn’t proposing she repaid his kindness with intimacy. Throughout the week she had stayed with him there hadn’t been even a flicker of flirtation from him. He had meant it when he’d told her that her virtue was safe with him on the first evening of their acquaintance, he hadn’t behaved improperly once. Rosa knew she should be thankful, especially after her awful experience with David, but she felt a tiny surge of disappointment every time Thomas didn’t take an opportunity to get closer to her.

Gaining back control of herself, Rosa smiled. ‘Next time I’ll add less garlic.’

It wouldn’t be quite so galling if Rosa didn’t feel her heart start pounding in her chest every time Thomas stepped in close to her. He was an attractive man, his body toned and muscular from the early morning swims and his eyes full of mischief and laughter. Rosa knew she never wanted to get involved with a man again, but Thomas tested her resolve sometimes. At least when he wasn’t ordering her around or teasing her.

‘Signora Felcini is coming to cook tonight,’ Rosa said. ‘So I’m sure I can persuade her to give me one last lesson before we leave.’

The elderly Italian woman who came in to cook and clean for Thomas a few times a week had taken Rosa under her wing. She ordered Rosa around in rapid Italian and expected her to chop and help with the evening meal, but in return Rosa was treated to a lesson in rustic Italian cookery. In Rosa’s mind it was a fair exchange.

‘I have made arrangements for us to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Your family are causing a bit of a stir searching for you nearby, so I think it would be prudent to leave as soon as possible.’

‘Thank you,’ Rosa said quietly.

She still wasn’t quite sure why Thomas was helping her, it wasn’t as though he got much out of their arrangement, just trouble from the Di Mercurios and the expense of transporting her to England. Whatever his motivations Rosa was keen not to examine them too carefully; Thomas was her only hope now she was penniless and stuck so far from home.

* * *

Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow, adjusted the bandages on his hands and squared up to the punch-bag hanging from the branches of the sturdy olive tree. Quickly he hooked and jabbed, dancing lightly on his toes around the inanimate opponent.

He’d learned to box at school, along with all the other sons of the gentry, classes where their wiry games master instructed the small group on the basics of boxing. Of course that had been no use for the real world and nearly four years ago, when he’d first been beaten and robbed on his journey through Europe, he’d vowed to learn to defend himself better. The first year of his travels he’d been attacked five times. It was unsurprising really. He was a well-dressed young man who needed to carry money with him—a prime target for any ambitious criminal. After each attack Thomas had retreated for a while, licked his wounds, then restarted his training with renewed vigour. He picked up techniques from the countries he visited, practised his defensive and attacking modes every day, and soon he no longer had to hide his modest purse on his person or avoid the more unsavoury areas of the cities he visited.

Now training every evening had become part of his daily routine, just like the refreshing early morning swim in the lake.

With one last high kick Thomas began unwrapping the bandages from his hands. He loved this feeling just after he’d exercised, the heady mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Over the years he’d developed a deep-seated respect for his body and worked hard to keep it in top physical shape. Too many people took their physical health for granted, but he’d seen how quickly a man could be robbed of his ability to control his limbs, to walk, to run, to jump. He was determined to enjoy every minute he had conscious control of his muscles so he would regret nothing if and when the Hunter family curse struck.

‘Do you think...?’ Rosa said as she rounded the corner of the villa and came into view. ‘Oh.’

Thomas had to hide a smile. She became so flustered whenever she caught sight of his bare skin, a deep flush spread across her cheeks and she seemed to lose her ability to speak for a few seconds. He liked to watch her rally, to refuse to give in to her embarrassment and try to continue as if nothing was amiss.

Nonchalantly Thomas pulled on his shirt. No need to make the poor girl suffer any more than was necessary.

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