Red Rose by Mary Balogh

Author:Mary Balogh [Balogh, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Class Ebook Editions Ltd.
Published: 2016-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Rosalind woke up the following morning feeling more cheerful and more energetic than she had done for a long time. She had lain awake for a while the night before, hands clasped behind her head, thinking through the events of the last weeks, assessing what had happened, sorting out her feelings, trying to understand why she had felt guilty with Bernard that afternoon.

It seemed that events had just happened to her, almost without her will, since the summons came from her guardian for her and Sylvia to travel to London. She had been so used to ordering her own life. Suddenly to be catapulted into society had been a shock. She had been sure that after that first appearance no one would want to know her and she would be allowed to return to the way of life she knew. She had been somewhat upset by Sir Rowland Axby’s attentions and by her guardian’s insistence that she listen to his addresses. And she had been relieved to discover Sir Bernard Crawleigh, who had been friendly and relaxed from the start. Her engagement had been embarrassing because she could never be sure if Bernard had been precipitated into it before he was ready or whether, in fact, he would ever have been ready.

These were the facts she set out before herself to consider. No, there was one more. There was the Earl of Raymore himself. Rosalind frowned and gazed up at the darkened hangings above her bed. What was it about him that always hovered in the back of her mind?

He was an unpleasant man, cold and domineering. It seemed that she could never be near him without all her nerves bristling. Was it hatred that kept him always there on the fringes of her consciousness?

She found him attractive. Now that she was away from him, out of his house, she had to admit that fact. He was gorgeously handsome with that thick blond hair, aquiline features, and perfectly proportioned body. That she could never deny. Her dream man, Alistair, had looked almost identical. Poor Alistair! She had almost forgotten him. But it was not just Raymore’s looks that attracted. He had an almost irresistible magnetism for her. She thought of that kiss again and compared it, point by point, with Bernard’s caresses. He had taken every one of the liberties with her that her betrothed had taken, and more, and she had not resisted as she had that afternoon. She grew hot at the memory of how it had felt to be in Edward’s arms for those brief moments, the very sexual kiss, his hands moving forward possessively from her back.

Yes, she must admit it. It was the only way she might be able to solve the problem. She found the Earl of Raymore a very attractive man. She felt uncomfortable in his presence, partly because she wanted him. She felt infinitely better just admitting the truth to herself.

Having admitted it, she could look at the situation rationally. It was not love that she felt.

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