The Shamrock & the Rose Read Free Page A

but
then, when my carriage came for your other mail, he followed it
here.”
    “That was bold of him.”
    “I do agree, but once I had the chance to
speak with him my concern dissipated. I believe he can be
trusted.”
    “Of course, if you say so.” Then, thinking
about the other notes she’d received, the unsigned ones that were
growing increasingly insistent, Rose asked, “What did the note
say?”
    “Oh, I didn’t read it, my dear, though I
thought I recognized the handwriting. It seemed best to me that Mr.
O’Connell deliver the note himself. I made him aware of your real
identity, and he has promised to keep our secret. He’s accepted my
invitation to dine with us this evening.”
    Rose raised a brow. It was not like the
countess to invite a perfect stranger to one of her dinner parties.
“Was there something about Mr. O’Connell that made you want to see
more of him?”
    “I can scarce resist an interesting man.
This one is Irish, attending one of the Inns of Court on his way to
becoming a barrister. He’s cousin to the Irish Catholic leader
Daniel O’Connell, an extraordinary statesman and a moderate whom I
believe will one day be a Member of Parliament—that is, once the
Catholics have their emancipation.”
    “Oh my. That family!” Rose had heard
of the O’Connells, and specifically of Daniel O’Connell who had
killed a member of the Protestant Ascendency in a duel a few years
before. Though O’Connell had not sought the duel and reportedly
tried only to wound the man, the bullet had taken a strange path to
end the other man’s life.
    “Indeed. Perhaps not a proper suitor for
you, though the family definitely has money. Old Maurice, the
uncle, is a wealthy man. But no matter that. Mr. O’Connell will
make a worthy dinner guest. I quite liked the young barrister. He
reminds me a bit of my late husband, the earl. He, too, was a very
charming man, and though I would confess it to only a few, he was a
bit of a rogue.”
    Rose knew the countess well enough to know
her penchant for the unusual, so she did not question the
invitation further. She returned instead to the niggling thought
that would not leave her.
    “You said you recognized the handwriting.
Was it one of those…letters I’ve received of late?”
    “I fear it is.”
    Rose considered what that could mean. There
had been several letters from the same person. Though the she had
played down her concern to the countess, with each message the tone
grew more strident until the words became somewhat alarming. Sweet
verses, yes, but too confident for her liking. Especially when the
author did not sign his name.
    Shoving the worrisome thought aside she
asked, “Who else will be attending this evening?” She wondered how
the Irishman would be received by the others.
    The countess took another sip of sherry.
“Well, there will be my dear friend Lady Emily Picton, widow of Sir
Thomas Picton, the most senior officer killed at Waterloo. She has
just returned from a holiday in Bath. You will like her, I know.
Then there will be two other gentlemen who have asked to be
introduced to you: Colonel Sir Alex Abercromby, now MP for
Clackmannan in Scotland, and William Arden, Baron Alvanley.”
    “I know the name Alvanley.”
    “I thought you might. Alvanley is one of
Prinny’s set and well known for his wit. He also remains a loyal
friend to that dandy Beau Brummel, whose debts now require him to
live in France. So, with all that, there will be six of us.”
    “With those minds in the room, it should
make for an absorbing conversation. I shall look forward to
it.”
    “So will I,” said the countess.
    Rose swore there was a twinkle in the older
woman’s eye. “Are you by any chance engaged in matchmaking,
Countess?”
    The woman smiled. “Your mother did give me
authority to make a match for you, as you’ll recall.”
    “I see you’re taking it seriously.”
    “Why, of course! It is one of my favorite
pastimes.”
    It was then that Rose