The Dangerous Love of a Rogue (26 page)

“
You
may call,
we
will not. And I cannot see why you are weeping. Four days ago you chose to leave them and come to me. You look as if you’ve cried since I left you. I’m not sentencing you to life imprisonment. You may visit them.”

She turned, pain and anger piercing her chest. “Where have you been?”

So the accusations began, barely five minutes from her parents’ door. “I told you I had debts to pay.”

He’d banked her brother’s and her father’s cheques and settled several of his most urgent debts with cheques of his own, including his rent, and after that he’d gone to his boxing club and beat the hell out of anyone daring to step into the ring with him, and the sharp pain in his side had only made him more bloody violent. He’d then washed and changed, retrieved his curricle and his horses, and come to fetch her.

She said no more, merely looked ahead.

He guided his horses on through the busy streets of Mayfair his curricle a focus of attention, or rather Mary. Open carriages passed them, Landau’s and Barouches, and people within them stared at the sister to the Duke of Pembroke – niece to quarter of the House of Lords – and seated beside her, ‘that bastard’, Framlington, who sported a black eye.

Her father would not need to publish the announcement. It had been made.

One woman even leaned from the window of a carriage.

If Mary’s parents went to any balls tonight they’d face a thousand questions.

That would stir up Marlow’s and Pembroke’s ire.

God, Drew was angry again. That damned scene in Pembroke’s house had annoyed him, and why the hell was she crying again?

Because she believed them, not him.

He glanced at Mary, she sat straight backed, her fingers gripped together on her lap as she ignored the speculation.

He liked her backbone. Some men preferred meek and mild women, he thought them dull. Mary had fire and passion, but what he did not like was her weakness for the lies her family told.

Sighing, he looked back at his horses.

“Do you have a mistress?” Her question shocked him. It was spoken without emotion.

He did not look at her. “No, Mary. Even if I’d wanted one, I could not have afforded one.”

“A man does not need to pay for a mistress, I’m not so naïve. You propositioned my sister-in-law, how many others?”

He did glance at her then. She looked ahead. No one would guess the subject of their conversation from her expression.

“I have not kept a tally. I do not notch my lovers up on my bedpost, as you will see when we get home. Men aren’t usually celibate until they wed. I know your brother was not, he had an affair with my older sister. I made an indecent proposal to his wife, yes. It was tit-for-tat, if not exactly an eye-for-an-eye. Would you ask your brother, or your father, the same question? How many women?”

She looked at him and their gazes met and held for a moment, before he looked away.

“So am I a tooth-for-a-tooth?” she asked on a bitter note.

“You are nothing to do with that.”
I have told you, Mary.
“It was long ago.”
I have said I love you, and I have never said that to another woman
. He did not complete his sentences aloud, they were in the street.

She was silent for several yards, then she turned abruptly, shifting on the seat to face him, her body expressing her thoughts just as a Landau passed containing three matrons of high society. “What is it that you want from me?”

He was inclined to pullover and let the passing traffic stare if she wished to argue in public. Damn it she was making him angry again. He gritted his teeth, then breathed in. “I want nothing from you.” That was the best lie he had ever told.
I want all from you
,
Mary,
I want to be all to you
.
Yet you listen to your family over me…

“Nothing but my dowry.”

Lord, he needed someone to hit again. Why did she have to listen to them? He did not answer. They’d had this conversation, he was not returning to it, and damn her if she chose to believe her brother over him. Let her. He’d paid off half his debts today. He would pay the other half tomorrow. There would be no more duns knocking at his door with their threats. He wanted to feel happy. He had her…

He felt empty.

Chapter 18

When they reached the mews where he stabled his curricle and horses, the grooms came out to attend to the horses.

Drew tied off the reins, then jumped down and walked about the vehicle to help Mary.

Before he reached her she’d lifted her dress and was carefully climbing down alone.

He took her bag out from beneath the seat and set it at her feet, then moved to pet his horses, slapping the nearside animal’s flank lightly.

It was good to have them back. He’d always found solace in his horses.

Moving to the animals’ heads, he rubbed their cheeks as they nuzzled his shoulders, and then rested his forehead against the second mare’s, whispering his gratitude.

He need not fear losing them anymore.

He smiled at the groom who began unharnessing them. The man tugged his forelock.

When Drew turned back to Mary, there was a sudden burst of feeling in his chest, but it was muted by a nervous sense… Her posture was stiff and she clutched her bag, fire glinting in her pale eyes.

He walked over and held out his hand for her bag.

“I’ll carry it,” she said.

He ought to let her, just to spite her, but instead he gripped the handle and pulled it from her hold. Fortunately she did not fight for it.

He offered his free arm to her.

Her fingers lay on it but in the dispassionate way they had at the church.

At the street corner they waited for a street sweep to clear a path and when they reached the other side Drew gave the boy a ha’penny.

“Good-day m’lud.” The boy titled his cap. “An’ dun’t forget if y’ur needing y’ur boots cleaned. I’m y’ur man.” He was not a man, he looked barely ten, but Drew had always liked these boys. He bought them bread when he could, and coffee when the weather was cold, and he’d stand and listen to their tall tales occasionally.

Drew tipped his hat and smiled. Mary’s fingers slipped off his arm. “Good-day, Timmy, lad. When I have a task I’ll let you know.”

Mary stared.

God forbid she realised he was not the evil bastard her family had portrayed. He had never been a hunter of women, they had hunted him. He’d make a point of ignoring the boys in her presence in future. He had no wish to improve her ill-informed image of him.

The entrance to his apartment was a hundred yards from the corner. He knocked on the door, it opened almost immediately.

“Lord Framlington.”

Drew nodded at the doorman who gave him a formal bow.

“This is my wife,” Drew stated, looking from Joseph to Mary. “This is Mr Moore, Mary, our doorman. He’s the man to call upon if you need anything.”

“My Lady,” Joseph hid his surprise and bowed deeply. “As his lordship says, if there is aught you need, ask.”

Mary became the woman Drew had seen in the ballrooms, smiling and thanking the man with inherent grace. Drew turned to the staircase.

The hallway was narrow, tiled with red and black polished diamond shapes and the stairs simple oak.

Wide-eyed, Mary took in her coming down in life.

If she’d pictured his home, he doubted she’d pictured this.

He encouraged her to walk ahead. She did. It left him with a view of her swaying bottom as he followed three steps behind her.

She stopped at the top, waiting for him.

Passing her, he went to his front door, one door along, then put her bag down, withdrew the key from his pocket and unlocked it. The door swung open. He picked up her bag and let her enter before him.

She stopped, standing in the middle of the rug before the hearth, her gaze spinning about his parlour.

He had a table, set to one side, which seated six. The other half of the room contained five armchairs at various angles, a games table, and a couple of pieces of furniture, like his writing desk. The room was extremely sparse with Pembroke’s house as comparison. There were no ornaments, or decorations. The walls were just green. Everything he owned was necessary, he had no frills.

Obviously she found it lacking.

He did not look at her, he did not wish to see disgust.

He carried her bag into his bedchamber, and put it on the bed. When he turned she’d followed.

“See, no notches.” It was spiteful but he could not help it, defensiveness ran in his blood, her lack of belief was cutting at him.

He sighed.

She looked as if she’d been thrown into a lake and told to swim when she did not know how.

A wave of love washed over him…regardless of the feelings of betrayal warring in his chest.

He wished to take a hold of her and tell her not to be so foolish. Not to listen to their lies. But she had made him a coward now. He was too afraid of more of her rejection. Yet she was only believing what she had been told – and this was all strange to her.

More sympathetically, he said, “The dressing room is through there. There is space there for one personal servant, but I have none. These are my rooms, the sitting room and this bedchamber. I buy in meals or eat out, at a friend’s, or at my club.” Of course she could not do that, it was gentlemen only. But then it was a gentleman’s apartment block. The only females who usually called here were paid. Mary would probably die of mortification if she happened to see one of those women.

“There are people below-stairs who will do laundry and such like, and a maid who cleans weekly and attends to the grates in winter. I don’t expect you to keep house for me, if you need anything, just ring.” He pointed to the bell pull. “The kitchens here can bring hot water.”

She looked at him, her skin very pale. “What will we do for dinner tonight?”

He smiled, “I’ll send out for something, I know a place which sells magnificent pies.”

“We purchased a picnic once from Gunter’s, before John came back from Egypt, and took it to Green Park.”

It was not a good sign that she’d been reduced to small talk. She was in shock.

He stared at her, his hands hanging by his sides – helpless and unworthy. They were not feelings he liked. He was equal to anyone. Circumstance did not define him. If she thought it did, he would like her less.

A knock hit the door. Glad of the excuse Drew walked away.

It was Joseph. “Lady Framlington’s articles have arrived.”

Behind Joseph a man in Pembroke’s livery carried a small trunk. Behind him two more men bore a much larger one.

“There are another two trunks the size of the second, My Lord,” Joseph said.

He’d recognised Mary’s wealth, and also, that Drew’s rooms were not large enough to accommodate it.

Drew grimaced. The doorman laughed.

Ignoring him, Drew stepped back, holding the door for Pembroke’s men. When they entered, he pointed them to the open bedroom door. “Stack them in there, against the walls and the end of the bed, if you can.”

Drew stayed by the door, as they brought up the rest, watching Mary in silence, as she came back into the sitting room and wondered around touching his furniture, as though she expected to miraculously discover something more than the poor man’s home she saw.

He wanted to know what she thought but he would not ask; a part of him was afraid of the answer.
I have become a coward
.

The men did not look at him, nod, or show any deference. Mary must be well liked in Pembroke’s household and Drew had become the villain.

A few choice words ran through Drew’s head as he waited for the men who carried up the last trunk.

Mary looked out the window. It did not look onto the street, but down onto the courtyard at the rear of the house, where the maids hung the laundry. There were usually strings of sheets, shirts and men’s underclothes out there – another embarrassment for her.

He said nothing as he stepped out of the way of the men bearing the last of her trunks.
Coward!

Footsteps hit the stairs. David Martins came up, Drew’s neighbour to the right. He grinned at Drew, looking into the room at Mary. “You have a guest?”

“I have a wife.”

“Pretty…”

Drew did not like his neighbour’s intrusive stare. He lifted an arm and braced his hand on the doorframe blocking David’s view as Pembroke’s men carried Mary’s last trunk into the bedchamber.

“We’re very happy,” Drew answered a question which had not been asked.

“And very rich, I suppose,” David answered. “I saw the trunks.”

“Enough to get out of here,” Drew responded, his pitch getting colder. “Now if you will excuse these men.”

Drew stepped back to let Pembroke’s men leave. David lifted his hat and smiled.

Drew shut the door.

A knock hit the door. Another of Pembroke’s men stood there with a writing desk and a mirror. The writing desk Drew told the man to place on the table in the sitting room. The mirror, he had him put on the chest of drawers in the bedchamber.

Drew reached into his pocket to give the man sixpences for them all, but he looked at Drew as though the gift was an insult. “We do not want y’ur money, m’lud.”

Was there any greater insult than to be snubbed by servants?

A measure of guilt stirred in Drew’s gut. It was not normally an emotion he felt. It made it harder to know what to say to her when he shut the door.

When she did not turn he walked over to the window and stood behind her, bracing her waist.

Not a single muscle yielded to his touch. Instead her arms crossed over her chest.

“I love you. It will not always be like this,” he whispered to her hair. “As I said, I will look for an estate as soon as I have the chance.”

He kissed the curve of her neck where it turned to her shoulder, longing for her to say I love you, back.

Her muscle flinched, and then she spun to face him, her eyes saying,
do not touch me
.

His anger flared. “You were happy for my hands to be all over you the night before last, Mary! You said you loved me! I love you!” He glared at her. He’d never been good at holding his anger back. He wanted her to love him. That was all he asked.