The Rebel's Promise Read Online Free PDF

realise that I owe a greater obligation to myself ... and to my family name ... than to another man’s cause,” His eyes were infinitely sad and Rosie ached to go to him and put her arms around him. “I do not know the prince’s plans but I expect he will fight on across the border,” he told her bleakly, “I swore an oath of allegiance to him, and I will always be proud that I stood by his side. But my priorities have changed. Unless King George will issue me with a pardon, however, I am wanted for treason, and England is not safe for me. I must go to the prince in Scotland and explain my case, before asking my uncle, who is respected by King George, to petition for clemency.”
    “Must you go? Can you not stay here and continue to be my cousin Jack?” Rosie asked, with a catch in her voice that made him ache to hold her close.
    “Rosie,” she lifted her face and his eyes raked her enchanting countenance longingly, “I must gain that pardon so that there is no longer a price on my head. If I can clear my name I can return to my estates and begin to live a normal life again. While I stay here and do nothing I cannot ask … any lady … to be my wife.”
    “Is there a lady you wish to ask?” her delightful lower lip trembled.
    He regarded her steadily, “There is,” he said sombrely.
    The desire to sweep her into his arms and count the world lost forever was overwhelming. He fought the impulse and stayed where he was.
    “But I would have to be the worst cad in the world to ask her to share my shame.”
    Rosie bit her lip to stop it shaking, “Perhaps she would not care,” her voice was pathetically tinged with tears now. Aware that she was perilously close to begging, she swallowed her pride and ploughed on, “Perhaps she would rather share your exile than be without you?”
    “The lady I love must not accept damaged goods,” he said proudly. “She is worth infinitely more than I can give her.”
    Rosie got to her feet jerkily and came towards him, “Why don’t you ask her what she feels, Jack?”
    Jack forced himself to remain in his seat. Thankfully, his resolve was not tested further because, just at that moment, Mr Delacourt bumbled into the room looking for a book he had mislaid that morning.
    Rosie slipped away. Her father might be absent minded but he could, on occasion, be remarkably and quite annoyingly perceptive. Retreating to her bedchamber and throwing herself down on the bed she indulged in a bout of weeping that left her exhausted. Mrs Glover overheard her and peeped into the room in concern.
    “Are all men proud ... and stubborn ... and doltish about nonsensical things such as honour ... and innocence ... and people’s reputations and good names?” Rosie demanded angrily, punctuating her tirade by giving her pillow a series of vicious thumps.
    “The good ones are, child,” Mrs Glover patted her shoulder sympathetically.
     
    ***
    Sir Clive Sheridan was in a cheerful mood. He had recently returned from a trip to London. He was looking forward to sharing the latest news from the capital, together with the military gossip from Derby, with his neighbour, Mr Delacourt. Even more than that, he was relishing the thought of seeing Mr Delacourt’s beautiful daughter again.
    Sheridan Hall, Sir Clive’s family estate was the largest property in the neighbourhood and, as its owner, he was known locally as ‘the Squire’. His father had fulfilled that role to admiration and had been widely and deeply loved in the local community. There had been rumours throughout the district about Sir Clive's mother. A fragile beauty who, so the scandal-mongers reported, was possessed of a reckless streak. Which did not sit well with the austerity of her position as wife of the Squire. She had come to an unhappy end, just a few short weeks after the birth of her son, when she drowned in the river which flowed through her husband's land. There was still some local speculation about the circumstances of her