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"No!" He reached out his hand to stay her. "Wait. It isn't simply that. You
need
the Liars, Rose. And I… and they need you." His gray eyes beseeched her so earnestly that she actually considered it for a moment.

If she stayed, she would be in dire trouble for what she'd just done, if Dalton's expression had been any sort of clue, but surely it would pass eventually. She could stay with the Liar's Club, be the first lady Liar—

And spend the rest of her life desperately trying not to love a man who didn't love her. Could she see Collis every day, possibly even work with him, as if she'd never loved him at all? Could she be his
friend
! She shook her head with involuntary rejection. "Collis, you don't know what you're asking of me."

Collis couldn't bear the pain in her eyes. Pain he'd put there. "I'm asking you to stay, that's all. Stay and see this through. Be the Liar you were meant to be, the woman you were meant to be."

She dropped her gaze to her hands resting on her thighs. "No. That isn't enough." She stood.

Collis scrambled to his knees in hope. Not enough? What would be enough? Him?

Certainty shot through him like a bullet.

Oh, yes. I finally found her, Mum. My Briar Rose.

"Marry me!"

She froze in place. Only her gaze shot to meet his, her eyes unreadable. "What?"

When he needed it the most, his glibness failed him. "
Bloody hell
. Rose, I love you and I want you and I admire you and I need you and I
must
marry you."

"Hmm. All that?" she said faintly.

Fool
! "I can do better," he blurted in a panic. "Let me try again!"

She held up one hand. "No! No need. My answer is no."

No
. He couldn't breathe. "It's because of what you thought I said about Louis, isn't it?"

"Bugger Louis!" Rose threw out her hands in frustration. "Look, Louis is a right wanker, I won't deny that. But I survived him. He's behind me, like a shadow that I don't even pay mind to anymore. My answer isn't about Louis, it's about me."

She sighed and wove her fingers together as if she didn't know what to do with her hands. "Collis, I can't be your lady."

"But—"

She held up a hand to halt him. "I know I could pass as one if I tried—Lord knows I've been trained for it—but to take a pose for one mission isn't the same as lying for the rest of my life."

"Rose, I never asked you to be Lady Etheridge. I asked you to be mine, for always."

Her face crumpled and she looked away. "That sounds lovely," she whispered.

His chest ached at how unhappy he'd made her. How could he undo what he had done? Unsay what he had said? "There are no words," he blurted. "There is no apology I can make to erase my stupidity."

Amends, my darling. Oh, heartfelt amends
. "Can you not forgive me?"

She shoved her hands into her pockets. "I already forgave you. I'm simply having a little trouble forgiving myself."

He blinked at that. "Forgiving yourself for what?"

Her gaze went somewhere over his shoulder. "For loving you anyway."

She loved him
. She loved him
anyway
. His aches and pains disappeared before a tide of pure joy. He stood swiftly. "But that's wonderful!" He moved to take her in his arms—well, arm, at any rate.

She backed two steps away, holding up her hands. "No, Collis. No. Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed! I love you! You love me!"

She laughed, a bitter, damp sound. "Collis, not everything is that simple! You cannot wave your aristocratic hand and make these obstacles disappear! I am a butcher's daughter!"

"And a spy."

Frustrated, she waved assent. "Very well, a butcher's daughter and a spy. You are a lord's heir!"

"And a spy." He tilted his head to smile at her. "I won't be the heir for long, you know. Clara's increasing even now."

She blinked. "Oh. She must be so happy." Then she frowned. "That changes nothing, Collis."

"Of course it does! Even if this one is not a boy, the next may be, or the next! Should we wait ten years, waste ten years, until we know? I want to live now. Not for the future, nor for the past."

She smiled at him then, a truly proud smile, through damp eyes. "I'm very happy you have come to that decision." Then she shook her head again. "But the answer is still no."

"Why? I want to marry you. I want green-eyed daughters and black-haired sons. I want to grow gray with you, and be buried next to you under an oak. I want—"

She laid her fingers over his lips, unable to bear his aching pleas any longer. "You have a fine and worthy heritage to live up to. I would only be in the way of that."

"Are you so sickeningly honorable, so selfless, as that, Rose, that you think the world owes you no happiness at all?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, I am not so sickeningly selfless as all that. But I do not think the world owes me anything but air to breathe. The rest must be earned, for such as me."

"And how do I earn you, Briar Rose? What sacrifice must I make? What kingdom must I give up?"

Her hand jerked within his and she blinked. "What did you say?"

He frowned slightly, then kissed her hand. "Did I wax too melodramatic? Sorry, I didn't mean to be theatrical. I'm just so bloody tired, Rose. Bone-deep and down-to-my-boot-heels tired, and I simply don't know what else to do. How can I let you walk away? I'll be losing half of myself!"

Rose felt his love fall upon her upturned face like the first sunlight of spring. She closed her eyes against it, fighting to keep out the awareness, but it sank into her skin and through to her heart like sweet poison that she would never survive.

Her resistance melted. Her resolve faltered. Even her knees weakened. She sank against him for a moment, needing to draw on his strength and solidity. His arm came around her and she melted into him. It felt so good to give in. She knew the weariness he spoke of. To resist was costing her far too much.

To give in to him would cost him more.

She pushed away. His hand clung, but she was determined. "I am who I am, Collis. I am not a lady. Do you truly want to tie yourself down to a wife like me?"

He smiled. "I would be honored to have you as my lady."

"I cannot pass in Society, not really. Nor do I wish to." She gazed at him, trying to see into his eyes, into his future. "Ethan said you were looking for 'the man after.' Well, I have found the woman after and I intend to keep her. I will not lose her again in order to pretend to be your lady." She opened her arms wide, displaying her stained male attire, her trained fighter's figure, her plain, uninspiring face. "This is the bargain, Mr. Tremayne. Your world will not forgive you easily. You might want to think what it will cost you."

"
You
might want to think what it will save him from." The voice came from behind them.

Rose started at the unmistakable fruity tones of George IV, Prince Regent. She turned to see him several yards down the gallery, lounging against a window embrasure, accompanied by two stone-faced guards and a very repressed-looking Prime Minister.

In fact, Lord Liverpool looked as though he were about to "shit diamonds," as Stubbs might say.

George's words swirled through Rose's thoughts.
Save him from
.

Could she save him? If a prince's bastard—but acceptably well-born—son married a butcher's daughter, one with a distinctly tarnished past yet, would that union not remove him from royal consideration?

Rose eyed the Prime Minister. By the fury on Lord Liverpool's face, that answer would be a resounding
"Yes
." The man looked as though he could slit her throat on the spot, just for receiving such a proposal.

Oh, blimey
. To have her heart's desire
and
score one off the heartless, manipulative Prime Minister? She sent Lord Liverpool her sweetest smile.

Then she turned to Collis, dropped to one knee, and said clearly enough for all concerned to hear, "
Bloody hell
. Collis, I love you and I want you and I admire you and I need you and I
must
marry you."

He gaped at her.

She grinned up at him and tilted her head. "I can do better."

"No need," he breathed, laughter and love shining from his storm-cloud eyes. "My answer is yes."

Chapter Thirty-two

«
^
»

 

Rose Lacey stood with her eyes clenched shut tight and her hands held fast in the grip of her closest friend—a woman who was soon to be her family in truth. "Clara, please, let go. I have to—"

"You aren't going anywhere, Rose. Let him be. You don't want to get blood on your beautiful gown."

Rose sighed and forced herself to relax. "You're quite right. I know you're right. Besides, it's damned hard to fight in a floor-length veil." She twitched her nose and fought off a faceful of the webby stuff. "But why did he have to come in here now?" she wailed. "Did the Prime Minister truly think he could talk me out of marrying Collis
today
?"

Clara chuckled. "Well, he only had minutes left, didn't he? After you and Collis make your vows, his cause is quite lost."

"He'll do something dastardly, I know it. He wants the ceremony stopped—what if he sets fire to the chapel?"

"Oh, I expect you'd spit twice and put the flames right out," Clara said admiringly. "You were as cool as brook water just now. '
I'm sure I have no idea what you are speaking of,' "
Clara quoted. " '
You've concocted an interesting fantasy, my lord, but it has nothing to do with me.' "
She chuckled. "I'll treasure his expression always. I wish I'd had a pencil and paper to sketch it."

Rose snickered. "Don't you dare!"

Clara sent her a wicked look. "Are you sure you wouldn't want a copy? 'Twould make a lovely bride gift."

"Absolutely not!" Rose arranged her voluminous skirts. Then she snickered again. "Oh, very well. Slip it to me later."

A knock came on the door. The Sergeant's voice came through the wood. "Miss, His Highness is waiting!"

Clara shook her head with wonder. "To be walked down the aisle by the Prince Regent himself! What a tale to tell your children." She patted her still-flat stomach idly. "You could be the toast of London Society, you know."

"I know," fretted Rose. "I couldn't turn him down, of course, but at least I managed to talk him into a private ceremony. How would I ever be of use to the Liars if I became notorious?"

"You'd manage." Clara kissed her cheek. "You have more to offer than a housemaid's skills, dear one." She stood back and held Rose at arm's length. "Perfection." She shook her head. "Remember when I found you in the attic?"

Rose smiled through incipient tears and sniffed. "My nose was running then, too."

Clara adjusted the veil and pushed her toward the door. "Be happy, dear."

Rose stepped into the church proper with her hand on the arm of the Prince Regent of England and gazed down the aisle at Collis Tremayne, tall and fine in wedding gray, his left arm slung in silvery silk.
Happy
didn't begin to describe it.

Around him stood her Liars, every one, for none would agree on who would stand up with Collis.

Rose smiled at George through her joy. "I'll take good care of him for you," she whispered.

He smiled and patted her hand on his arm. "You're a good girl, my dear." They took the first step to the rising strains of music. "But I'm sure I have no idea what you are speaking of."

Epilogue

«
^

 

The room was dark and so silent that the merest rustle of Rose's skirts sounded in her listening ears.

She twiddled her picks to tumble the wall-mounted safe box securely locked once more, her heart pounding with excitement. She'd found it!

At last there was proof of treason against Lord Maywell, whom the spymaster had long suspected of collusion with the French. Several forays into Maywell Manor by the Liars had produced nothing solid to back up Lord Etheridge's suspicions. Maywell's study was clean, his bedchamber cleaner.

Fortunately, Rose had flirted an interesting detail out of a young footman only too willing to impress the new maid with his superior knowledge of the house.

There was a room, he'd claimed, that no one went into, not staff or family. A small room, out of the main wing, that from the outside seemed no more important than a closet for linens. A room Lord Maywell had been overheard to refer to as the "hidey-hole."

And Rose had found it. She'd entered the room using the master key she'd nicked from the Maywells' butler's ring a short while ago as the man was distracted by the preparations for the upcoming ball. Then she'd tickled open the safe and found all the evidence Lord Liverpool could ask for, and then some.

BOOK: TheCharmer
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