Bride Who Fell in Love with Her Husband by Cheryl Ann Smith Page B

occupy your time. This must be your wife.”
    Rose shivered. There was something familiar about the man, though she couldn’t settle it in her mind. What she did know was a feeling of instant dislike for him, as serpentlike eyes raked boldly over her.
    Thomas nodded and made introductions.
    â€œI can see why you have given up a bachelor’s life, Stanhope,” Mr. Wilkinson said, without breaking contact with her eyes. “Your Mrs. Stanhope is a beauty.”
    There was something dark in him and Rose jerked her gaze free. Thomas must have sensed her unease, for he stepped between them. “I do not mean to be rude, but the day has been long. We must return home, for my wife is weary.” Climbing into the carriage, he took up the reins. “Another time, then.”
    The carriage pulled away and Rose took one last glance back. The man grinned and tipped his hat. She turned quickly around, dismissing him.
    â€œI do not like him,” Rose said, rubbing her bare arms. The encounter left her eager for a bath.
    â€œNo one likes him, love.” Thomas clicked his tongue and the horse quickened its pace. “He is not the sort of man a husband wants near his wife.”
    â€œWhy then do you associate with him?”
    â€œHe is as rich as Midas and has power in Parliament,” Thomas said. “It is best to stay in his good graces.”
    Rose suspected there was more to the stranger than Thomas hinted at. A flirtatious cad would not be worth the subtle warning. Mr. Wilkinson looked at her as if he knew her, and she was certain she’d seen him before. But where?
    * * * *
    Rose spent the evening in Thomas’s arms and woke up the next morning a more confident wife. She went down to the kitchen and planned the day’s meals with the cook and instructed the housekeeper on the duties she wanted finished for the day.
    The next few days were filled with activity as Rose spoke to every member of the household and familiarized herself with the town house from the eaves to the cellar.
    â€œI need to speak to Ackers,” Rose said one evening, referring to one of their footmen. “I smelled ale on his breath this morning. I’ll not have him drinking while on duty.”
    Thomas leaned back in his chair. “I’ll look into the matter. If there is a problem, the reprimand should come from me.”
    â€œThank you, husband.”
    The staff warmed to her with her genuine interest in them. The maids no longer looked at the baroness before filling Rose’s requests, and were eager to please their new mistress.
    The baroness was as grim as ever. However, Rose made a point of speaking to her only in a cheerful manner. If they never became civil, so be it, but it would not be because Rose did not attempt to ease the tension between them.
    It was a quiet morning almost two weeks after Rose became Mrs. Stanhope when she was left alone for the first time, without the family somewhere in the house. The baroness and Thomas’s sisters were out and Thomas was meeting with the family solicitors. Once a month they discussed estate issues and how to expand their holdings.
    With shrewd investments, Thomas had grown the estates, both the family’s and his own. With her husband at the helm, the family wealth had flourished in the recent years. Rose was proud of his astute mind.
    Sitting in the upstairs parlor, she was attempting to do some needlepoint when the housekeeper announced a visitor. “A Mister Wilkinson is here, Mrs. Stanhope.”
    Wilkinson? She grimaced. Her first thought was to refuse him. Then, upon remembering Thomas’s wish to stay in his good favor, she nodded. “See him in.”
    Rose’s stomach tightened when Mr. Wilkinson strolled into the parlor with a cocky air. She wondered if the visit had been timed for a moment when he knew she’d be alone.
    Had he been watching the house? The idea left her chilled.
    Given the feral look in his eyes, she