Romancing the Rogue (111 page)

After their walk and the departure of the earl, Ewan was all but shoved into the nearby parlor by a red-faced Grace. “What exactly was that all about?” She asked in a deceptively calm tone, but the fire flashing from her eyes bespoke an underlying anger.

“What was what?” Ewan asked, unable to resist baiting her when she was so deliciously furious.

“That, when you — you… Aghh!” Her hands shot into the air in a gesture of frustration, one she’d done since she was young. Her familiar action was endearing, and Ewan felt warmed by the sensation. He couldn’t resist the temptation to tease her further.

“When I…?” Ewan kept his expression open and innocent, which seemed to force Grace’s complexion into a lovely shade of red.

“When you kissed my hand!” she yelled.

It took all his inner strength to keep from bursting out with a loud laugh. The shade of red enhancing Grace’s lovely skin was amusing. That Grace had no clue how strange she sounded being irate over a polite gesture made Ewan almost choke on his suppressed laughter.

Her quickened breath interrupted his musings. Ewan almost forgot the conversation. Almost.

“And that offended you?” he teased, lifting his eyes from her delectable chest and forcing himself to meet her gaze. He raised his eyebrows in expectation.

“Yes! It offended me! You humiliated me!” She waved her arms around again in her exasperation.

“By kissing your hand?” Ewan calmly replied, still working hard to keep his laughter from overcoming his self-control. Grace would probably attack him if he dared share his humor in the situation. The thought of her body pressed against his was anything but threatening — rather, the idea intrigued him. The physical effect of his thoughts became uncomfortable, and he barely suppressed a groan at her next words.

“By using your tongue!”

A parlor maid, who had just entered the room, raised an eyebrow toward Grace. She left discreetly, but not before Grace’s angry crimson color was drained in humiliation and replaced with a dark blush.

“I did nothing of the sort.” Ewan spoke with a dismissive tone, knowing full well he had nearly molested her hand. He lifted his gloved hand to brush imaginary dust from his coat and took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding blood. He recalled the scene with pleasure. He had kissed her hand, simultaneously issuing a challenge to Shiply, a challenge he intended to win.

He couldn’t think of the prize, not yet. Even now he was silently astounded that he had acted so brazenly — so rashly. But when Shiply’s words, drenched in honey, were falling on Grace, and she seemed to soak them up so willingly, all he could think was that he could not — would not — stand by and let her be torn from his life. As the walk had progressed through the park, Ewan had grown more and more angry and frustrated with the situation, sensing no resistance in Grace to Shiply’s overt courtship.

She’s mine,
he wanted to announce and promptly beat Shiply to a pulp. What stopped him from proceeding was the truth that Grace did not belong to him, in any way. The realization had washed over him like cold water. True, she was his friend, in a manner of speaking, but he wasn’t the one who drew out the seductive smile she unknowingly offered to Shiply. No, he wasn’t even the one who made her toss her head back and laugh, offering both him and Shiply a view of her glorious slender neck.

Even now, Ewan licked his lips in thought of what her skin would taste like, should he press his lips to the slight hollow under her chin. Oh, why had he agreed to watch out for Grace? Why did he willingly put himself in such a position of such exquisite torture? Rather than courting Grace himself, he was reduced to watching someone else kiss her hand, make her laugh, and seduce her with a smoldering glance.

With that last thought, he had made up his mind and came to his rash decision. Shiply wasn’t going to court Grace without some competition — namely, him. Without allowing himself to think of the ramifications of such a decision, he began to plan.

So silently he stood by, waiting for the prime opportunity to throw the gauntlet, preferably without Grace knowing. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to admit his feelings out loud, let alone to Grace, who would likely reject him. After all, his reputation wasn’t much better than Shiply’s.

Then, as Shiply kissed the air above her hand in the most proper way just as he was leaving, Ewan made his move. As soon as Shiply stepped away, Evan advanced. With purposeful steps toward his prey, he approached Grace and crisply bowed, taking her gloved hand within his own and gently caressing her fingers as his hand gradually tightened, holding her fingers firm.

His heart began to beat strangely as he noticed the slight parting of Grace’s lips and the hazy look in her eyes. He hoped it was passion, but he knew it could easily have been anger. After all, wasn’t the line between love and hate thin? But when he leaned forward to kiss her hand, he didn’t simply kiss the air above it, rather he teased the gloved flesh with the tip of his nose before applying a firm kiss onto her hand, using his tongue to caress and heat her hand, even through the fabric of her glove.

After his prolonged exchange he tilted his head slightly to see Shiply narrow his eyes with realization, crinkle his mouth into a smile, and offer a nod that bespoke his understanding and acceptance of the challenge.

The arrogance! He didn’t even seem intimidated.

He glanced up into Grace’s face in effort to read her response. When his eyes locked with hers, he saw that they were soft with a hint of hope that quickly gave way to anger and suspicion.

Her temper was held in check as she said her good-byes to Shiply. She then promptly escorted Ewan into the parlor and proceeded to vent her anger, which was where they were currently.

~~~~

Grace couldn’t separate the millions of emotions that fought for dominance in her heart. Anger, hurt, suspicion, arousal, and hope all warred within her, and she refused to let just one win the battle.

How dare he!
In front of Shiply, no less! Just when she had found a promising distraction that could free her from the allure Ewan unknowingly held over her, he decided to play rake with her!

She shouldn’t have been too surprised. After all, it wasn’t the first time he had overtly flirted with her, but it was the first time she thought he might have meant it.

That was what frightened her. If Ewan ever pursued her in earnest, she wouldn’t have a prayer of escaping with her heart intact. But that was his signature: broken hearts littering the path behind him.

With steely resolve, she had tried to extinguish the hope that sprung up so quickly at the hazy and heated expression in his alluring eyes as he caressed her hand with his delicious tongue.

Simply thinking about his brazen move made her blush again. Shaking her head slightly she tried to clear it and gain a solid footing. “You most certainly did do that! And what was worse is you did it in front of Shiply!” she whined, hating the sound of her own voice.

She sounded as though she was eight again. No wonder Ewan hadn’t pursued her — she still acted like a child. With a tilt of her chin, she straightened up her spine. “Forgive me for whining, but really, Ewan!” Her honest frustration seemed to drain him of his constant mirth at her expense.

For a change, he looked unsure, causing Grace to furrow her brow in confusion. Just what was going on with Ewan? He had been silent for a long moment as she had vented her anger and now was giving her an expression she hadn’t seen on him before: uncertainty.

~~~~

What is wrong with me
? Seeing the sincere frustration in Grace’s expression made him feel low, unworthy, and, well, like the rogue he was. Could she have a firm attachment to Shiply so quickly? Was he already too late? Was there no hope? Angry, he shook his head in an attempt to gather his frayed thoughts.

What had seemed like a brilliant idea earlier was now turning his stomach sour. What if, in his brazen attempt at spreading his peacock feathers, he had ruined any chance for Grace to take him seriously? His head spun with thoughts and unfamiliar and unwelcome emotions. Ewan promptly spun on his heel and left, deep in thought.

Not until he walked into his house did he realize he hadn’t even said good-bye — another black mark against him.

Do I dare have any hope at all?
He reached for his brandy and took a long, deep drink, hoping to lose his emotional self in the amber liquid.

~~~~

Exasperated, Grace flung herself onto the settee after she heard the door close after Ewan’s abrupt exit. Her stomach was in knots. She breathed as deeply as her corset would allow and wished she were a man so it would be proper to drink something stronger than sherry.

Closing her eyes, she gathered her self-control and fought for balance. Did Ewan have any idea of the effect he had on her? She hoped not, yet a part of her still tried to hope that maybe, just maybe, Ewan was beginning to see her as more than the annoying little girl of the past.

“Dear, what posture!” Her mother scolded as she entered the room, bringing the scent of lemon and lavender with her.

Mildly repentant, Grace straightened her posture so she once again looked the part of a lady.

“I take it your walk in the park was not as grand as you had hoped?” Lady Jarvais asked as she walked over to her daughter and sat next to her, gently touching her shoulder.

“You could say that.” Grace’s posture relaxed ever so slightly at her mother’s touch, feeling a bit of the tension release from her body.

“Why? I trust Shiply was a gentleman?” Lady Jarvais gently prodded.

“Oh, Shiply was indeed a gentleman.
He
was not the issue. He was polite, full of humor and delightful to converse with on our walk,” Grace explained with exasperated tones as she picked at her dress with her dainty gloved fingers, not meeting her mother’s affectionate gaze.

“So?” Lady Jarvais asked, reaching up to tilt her daughter’s chin up.

“So, I…” She paused, looking at her mother. “Why? Why did you ask Ewan, or he ask you…” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is why? Why Ewan, Mother? You know what he does to me. Truly, he tries my patience in every way imaginable and exasperates me beyond all recovery!” Grace’s voice rose as she completed her question with more aggression than she had begun. She searched her mother’s face.

“Sweetheart,” Lady Jarvais began, caressing Grace’s hand with her own. “I know Ewan has his faults, but I believe this situation is for the best. After all, he has your best interests at heart.”

Grace wasn’t so sure of her mother’s answer. When it was apparent that her mother didn’t intend to elaborate, Grace opened her mouth to ask another question, but her mother’s gently raised hand silenced her.

“I know you wanted more, but you’ll have to trust me, love. Remember: I know you better than you know yourself.” After giving a gentle caress over her daughter’s face, she rose and left.

“For the love of…” His words trailed off as he tried to rise from his uncomfortable position on the chair in his study. Ewan’s head pounded as he tried to pinpoint the reason for waking up in the first place. As he tried to open his eyes, he squinted against the light that intensified his headache and fell back into the chair with a grunt.

“Sir, if I may suggest? You may want to rise and, er, shine.” With a dry cough that was a pathetic effort to cover a laugh, his valet, Whit, entered the study. Even though Ewan couldn’t see, he could hear the giant’s footfalls; most of Mayfair likely could.

“Whit, have I threatened to fire you yet today?” Ewan asked, his eyes still closed, but he massaged his temples as he tried to grant himself momentary relief from the pain.

“No, sir. I doubt you’ve done much of anything today.” His reply was accentuated by another cough-laugh.

“You’re fired,” Ewan mumbled, not wanting to speak too loudly and cause his head to explode.

“I see. Then I’ll just head back to the missus and leave you to ready yourself for the Lordington’s ball tonight. Alone. Without my help.” Whit paused for effect. “How do you think you’ll tie your cravat without opening your eyes? Maybe you’ll start a new trend? And I suppose you’ll fix your own tonic to relieve the pain threatening to split your skull as well. Brilliant. Cheerio. I’m off. Have a lovely evening.” Loud footfalls echoed as Whit began to retreat into the hall.

After a huff, which caused Ewan’s head to increase its pounding for a moment, he mumbled, “I will not be in attendance.”

“Excuse me sir? What did you say?” Whit asked.

“I said…” Ewan raised his voice, but pain made him immediately grab his head and lower his tone once again. “I’m not going,” he all but whispered.

Ewan’s irritation rose as he noticed that Whit was chuckling. He had done that on purpose!

“You’re lucky I’m not able to beat you right now,” Ewan whispered menacingly.

“Ah well, since I’m relieved of my employment here, I’ll just take my leave before you’re able to attempt any physical harm on my person.” Whit took a step then paused. “But, I feel compelled to mention a certain young miss will be left to her own devices…
and
the devices of others…” Whit drew out the last sentence before walking away once again.

The sound of receding footsteps caused a momentary panic to rise in Ewan.

“Wait!” he shouted, immediately regretting the rash action. He had to start thinking before he acted!

“Yes, sir?” The footsteps halted, causing Ewan to relax slightly before speaking once again, only much softer.

“I re-hire you. Now, go and fix me that vile concoction.” Ewan continued to massage his temples and mumbled, “I swear it’s poison.”

“No, sir. Poison is the reason you’re in this condition,” Whit remarked wryly.

“Brandy is not poison,” Ewan argued, but his body told him otherwise.

“Large quantities of anything can be poison,” Whit replied, earning a sarcastic huff from Ewan.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Ewan asked, annoyed, still not willing to move from his position on the chair.

“As you wish, sir. I’ll be back in a moment. Try not to pass out or worse while I’m gone.” With a clearing of his throat, Whit once again began to leave.

“I thank you for your genuine concern for me,” Ewan replied sarcastically.

“Always a pleasure, sir.” And with that, Whit left Ewan alone with the tiny hammers attempting to pulverize his head.

~~~~

All last night, Ewan had tried to make sense of the well of emotion that was bursting within him. He was a rake, a rogue, and therefore not accustomed to dealing with emotions, especially his own. No, when emotions were involved, he usually removed himself or drank, often both. But last night, no amount of brandy was enough to eliminate the stirring caused whenever he thought of Grace. If anything, it intensified his desire.

What was it about her, and why had it happened now? Why not earlier? Hadn’t he known Grace for years? Ever since she was in leading strings, he had been there, torturing her the entire way and loving every moment of it. He paused at the thought of the last sentence. He loved torturing her, teasing her —
loved
.

Could that be the root? Was it nothing more than his fear in losing his constant playmate in verbal sparring? He thought about it, mulled it over, and realized that though the joy attained from besting her and teasing her mercilessly was indeed profound, his emotions went far beyond just that.

As he thought about her smile, her constant efforts to put him in place and ignore all charm he used on her, he felt himself smile — a sappy sort of grin he often pitied when seen on others. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers down his face, feeling the friction of his stubble. He must look frightening. And tonight he had to go see Shiply charm Grace all over again.

The thought of Shiply dissolved the grin from his face and replaced it with a grimace. A bit more than disgusted with himself, he groaned and leaned back on the chair, closing his eyes.

As much as he hated the thought, he needed someone to talk with, someone who could help him sort everything out. A silent fortifying breath later, he rose from the chair and held it for support as he gained his bearings.

He walked out into the hall toward his room and bellowed, “Whit!”

He promptly regretted yelling. Maybe the splitting headache would simply kill him, and he’d no longer have to deal with the harrowing emotions one gained when finding himself in love.

The hitch in his chest made him realize the truth of the word he had just confessed in his own mind.

He was in love with Grace.

Of all the rotten things to happen to him! Love Grace! He might as well allow the brandy to continue its slow attempt at poisoning him. He had no chance to win her affections, did he? Leaning against the wall he rested his head against the cool wood and closed his eyes.

What a mess.

As he saw it, there were only two options. One was to win her affections, something he had never succeeded at in the past; although, to be honest, he had never tried. However, the fact remained that Grace was immune to his charm, and he was concerned that charm was all he possessed to woo her. Oh, he knew he was handsome and proficient in romancing the fairer sex, but Grace was different, because she wouldn’t be impressed. She never had been.

The only other option was to give up, let Shiply or someone else win, and resign himself to watching her belong to someone else. The thought made his blood run cold.

No, that was not an option.

Which left the first. He must win Grace’s affections.

The question was how? With a heavy sigh, he straightened his posture and walked into the room as he heard Whit down the hall behind him.

The unsettling feeling of not being sure of one’s actions or emotions gnawed at Ewan, and he waited, pacing the floor. Whit came into Ewan’s room with a polite expression that was overdone. Though he was a valet, he had also become Ewan’s confidant.

A clearing of the throat broke Ewan from his musing. In looking up, he noticed Whit was waiting patiently by the doorway with an expectant look in his eyes.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Ewan barked.

Whit’s eyebrows rose. Ewan knew it was in response to his exceedingly foul mood. His lack of control over his emotions was frustrating. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefingers.

“Yes, sir. My apologies,” Whit remarked with a slight bow. He set the cure for Ewan’s headache on the side table, and Ewan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at the vile concoction.

“Your meek response is lost on me, Whit. I know you aren’t the least bit repentant,” Ewan said.

“True, sir, but it always pays off in the end to feign humility,” Whit replied as he put his hands behind his back.

“Feigning humility? Is that what you call it?” Ewan mumbled. He stopped pacing. Inhaling a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a prolonged moment before speaking the overdue apology.

“Whit, I owe you an apology, though I am loath to admit it,” Ewan began, and Whit looked as if he was trying to suppress a grin

“No need, sir.” Whit spoke with a perfectly emotionless tone that, even after years of service, annoyed Ewan with its detachment. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his butler’s perfectly controlled emotions when his were driving him mad.

Ewan looked at Whit without moving his fingers and gave him a disbelieving look. “We both know you’re crowing over there, knowing I’m tied up in knots, but regardless, you don’t deserve my ire.” Ewan expelled another deep breath and straightened his posture.

“Accepted, sir.”

“Good, now…” Ewan began to pace again. “I find I’m having an issue with a lady…” Ewan trailed off.

“A mistress?” Whit asked.

“Oh, no.” Ewan chuckled without mirth. “That would be far too easy to address. No, this is with a young lady.”

“Has she set her cap for you? Lured you into a compromising position?”

“No. That I could deal with as well.” Ewan pinched the bridge of his nose once again.

“A widow?” Whit tried again.

“Would you simply quiet yourself and let me speak?” Ewan roared, his anger earning an honestly repentant look from Whit. “No, it’s none of those things! That is the problem! All of those situations would be easy to take care of!”

Exasperated, Ewan flopped into a chair by the fire, staring at the orange flames licking at the wood.

“It’s Lady Grace.” Ewan spoke in a reverent whisper.

“Lady Grace, sir?” Whit waited for Ewan to explain.

“Yes, Lady Grace.” After a moment’s pause, he continued. “I think I might love her,” he whispered quietly, uncertain about speaking the words out loud.

“You might love her, meaning…?” Whit asked.

With an impatient glance, Ewan regarded Whit before answering. “What do you think? As a wife! I’m wretchedly in love with Lady Grace, want her to be my wife, and she won’t give me the time of day! What’s worse is that degenerate Shiply is paying her court, and…” He paused in his tirade before continuing. “Everything would be fine — normal — if Shiply would have just kept to himself, away from Lady Grace! I’d still be blissfully unaware of my feelings toward her, and I wouldn’t be wallowing, pouring out my bleeding heart to my valet!” He gestured to Whit as he spoke the last sentence, then sighed and let his head fall back on the chair, knocking it soundly on the wooden knob on top.

“Ouch!” He cursed, rubbing the offended area of his head.

“Sir?”

“What?” Ewan mumbled, still rubbing his head.

“If I may sum it up, to ensure I understand?” Whit took a step toward Ewan with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“If you must,” Ewan grumbled.

“You love Lady Grace, blame Shiply for bringing it out, and now regret loving her and want everything to go back to the way it was?”

“Yes. I mean, no… I mean, that is the problem!” Ewan stood up and rubbed the back of his neck before allowing his hand to drop to his side.
“I don’t know what I want, other than I want Lady Grace, and…” Ewan didn’t know how to articulate the deep fear that choked his ability to speak. “And, I think, perhaps I’m afraid that…”

After a prolonged silence, Whit prodded, “Yes, sir?”

“That she won’t want me,” Ewan whispered.

“I see,” Whit responded, rocking back on his heels. He began working his jaw and appeared to be deep in thought. “Is she worth the risk?”

Ewan gave Whit an impatient glare that offered a clear view of his opinion on Whit’s intelligence in asking such a question. “Of course she is! That’s not the issue or the problem!” Ewan paced back and forth across the plush rug.

He paused, watching the fire dance in the hearth. After a moment he continued. “Lady Grace is wonderful, witty and lovely. She won’t allow me to be selfish or arrogant but pushes me. As much as I find that annoying at times…” He offered Whit a wry grin before becoming serious. “I love her for it.
She
is not the issue — she’s worth so much more than I am, and that…
that
is the problem.”

Ewan paused, rubbing the stubble on his chin with his fingers, letting the friction distract him from his misery for a moment. “I love her, but I don’t deserve her. Is there anything more wretched?” He gave Whit a small humorless laugh. “To want someone so desperately, yet at the same time, wanting someone better for her than yourself, because you’re not good enough,” he whispered. “I’m not good enough.” Desperation echoed in his heart as he spoke the words, knowing how they were exceedingly true.

“Well spoken, sir.” Whit held none of the usual dry humor in his tone.

“It’s the truth, Whit.” Ewan stood straight, examining Whit’s expression for a trace of what the man was thinking.

“I can see that, sir.” After a moment, Whit moved to stand beside Ewan in front of the fire. “So, what are you going to do about it, sir?”

“Do about Lady Grace? Nothing. That is the difficult part. I want to charm her, woo her…” He paused with a small curse. “I want to ruin her, Whit, so I can force her to marry me, but I won’t do it.” He looked heavenward. “I can’t. This love business is miserable.” Ewan spoke more to himself than to anyone else.

“So you’re going to give up?” Whit’s question sounded more like a challenge.

“Yes — no… I don’t know.” Ewan shook his head as he deliberated. “I didn’t think so, I even issued an overt challenge to Shiply earlier, but now I just don’t know.” The clock’s ticking echoed in the silence as Ewan lost himself in thought.

Only after a few minutes did he realize that Whit had also been quiet.

“Sir, have you ever considered that perhaps Lady Grace deserves the option of choosing you?” Whit turned to face Ewan.

Ewan gave a humorless laugh. “Me? Why would she choose me?”

“Ah, so Shiply is better for her?” Whit continued to prod.

“Shiply, no! Not at all!” The horror Ewan felt at such an idea must have been apparent on his face, for Whit gave him a cautionary look before continuing.

“But by giving up, you let him win, or give him the chance to win by default. Have you considered that?” Whit asked softly.

“Actually, no,” Ewan admitted, a fierce hope illuminating his heart.

“I see.”

“But what if Shiply is honorable in his intentions? What if… what if he is reformed and is genuine in his affections towards Lady Grace?” Doubt settled once again into Ewan’s heart.

“Could he love her more than you do?” Whit asked.

“No.” Ewan knew it wouldn’t be possible, so he spoke his answer with strength and confidence.

“Could he protect her heart better than you?”

“No,” came Ewan’s definitive reply, full of the passion of a man in love.

“Who knows her better?”

“I do. I’ve known her my whole life.” Ewan’s thoughts followed the trail that Whit had led him toward. “You’re right, Whit.” He slapped his valet on the back and grinned.

“I usually am, sir.” Whit remarked with a sly grin, alleviating some of the tension in the room.

“I will never admit that,” Ewan replied giving him a sidelong glance.

“So now, sir, if I may ask?”

Ewan rolled his eyes. “Whit, would you stop your ‘feigned humility,’ as you call it? We both know you’ll ask, regardless of my granting you permission.”

“Sir, what are you going to do about Lady Grace?”

With a fierce beating in his heart, Ewan placed a strong hand on Whit’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Win her, Whit. I’m going to win her heart.” Ewan felt his face break into the grin of a man that had hope once again.

“Excellent, sir! Excellent. See that you do.” Whit nodded his approval, walked to the table, and picked up the cure he had prepared for Ewan’s diminishing headache.

Ewan grimaced as he accepted the glass and held it up in a toast. “To love.”