The Dangerous Love of a Rogue (36 page)

“Do not be ridiculous. It was one waltz!”

His look narrowed. “We both know I am not good enough for you, so find someone else. It’s what you’ll do eventually anyway. I’m going out.”

“Andrew, stop it.” She followed him into their bedchamber. He did not stop but pulled on his long riding coat. “You cannot shut me out over one waltz!”

“It does not matter.” He picked up his gloves. “That is not the issue.”

She knew that. “The issue is your parents.” Stepping back she opened her arms wide across the door frame so he could not leave her. “I’m not responsible for them.”

His gaze met hers. His dark eyes desolate.

“Andrew.” Her fingers touched the shadow of the bruise on his cheek.

“Let me go, Mary.”

“To where?”

“
I’m going riding
. I’ll come back at midday, take you to your parents and then go to Tat’s to find you a carriage and horses.”

Tears burned in Mary’s eyes, but she refused to let him see. “You can be cruel!”

“You wished to be introduced to my parents! You accepted Peter’s escort!”

“And they are sins?”

“It does not matter. Just let me go, and stop making a childish scene.”

“As you did last night?”

“I will not argue with you. I do not care about it. Just get out of the way and let me go! I am only going riding!”

But it did not feel like that, it felt as if he was leaving, as though he’d left.

“Andrew?”

He merely stood, staring at her, his hat in his hand.

Mary’s hands fell to her sides and she stepped out of the way. There was no point in arguing, he was unreachable in this mood.

* * *

When Drew returned from his ride it was to find Pembroke’s carriage standing in the street before his apartment. Two grooms held the horses’ heads at the front of four glossy blacks. The coach itself was a shining black beast of a thing with Pembroke’s coat of arms emblazoned on the side, picked out in gilt, and a polished brass trim gleamed along its edges.
Devil take it.
What did Pembroke want? No doubt Drew was to be threatened again. If so his patience, currently paper thin, would rip, and he’d likely slam Pembroke up against a wall.

But when Drew reached his rooms it was only women’s voices he heard.

He entered without knocking. They were his rooms.

Three women looked at him, Mary, her mother and an aunt, the Duchess of Wiltshire.

So Marlow had sent the women in to do battle again, they were surveying the ground. It was extremely early to be calling, perhaps they’d hoped to catch him out. Perhaps they thought he would not have unchained Mary by this hour. They were obviously seeking to know how well he kept her.

The remains of their breakfast was left on the table. Mary had at least eaten. He may be angry with her, he may wish to hold her at arms’ length, so she could not hurt him, but he still cared for her. The girl would make herself ill if she did not eat.

Taking off his hat, he bowed to them, although not formally. He was family whether they liked it or not.

Her mother stood and stepped forward. “Lord Framlington, we are about to leave, we thought we might miss you. I’m glad you’ve arrived. We have asked Mary to accompany us to the Duchess of Bradford’s garden party this afternoon.”

Her aunt stood then. “We were passing, as I am visiting Margaret, so we thought it would be nice to call rather than send a message via the servants.”

That was nonsense, Mary’s cousin lived streets away and Drew’s apartment was not on route.

“We had letters for Mary too,” her mother concluded.

But most importantly you wished to spy.

Drew looked at Mary wondering what she’d told them. That he was an ignorant monster, probably; incapable of loving her and unable to be loved.

But he was not ashamed of his rooms. She did not have extravagance and excess here, but Mary had everything she needed. They could not fault him on that. Or rather she had all she needed if she would deem to take care of herself, which she did not.

He’d been angry when Joseph told him this morning she’d eaten neither luncheon nor dinner the day before. That was the moment he’d decided to take control of her life, although it also eased his conscience, employing servants to manage her meant he could withdraw without feeling guilt.

“Does my home meet your expectations, Lady Marlow?” He asked of her, ignoring her little speech.

“It is not my expectations you have to meet, is it, my Lord?” her answer was sharp and shrewish.

“No, it is Mary’s, and she has everything she wants.”
Except a man she can love.

“Except a husband who can apply restraint, Lord Framlington.”

“Mama!” Mary stood and came to stand beside him. As though he needed her to defend him. As though he cared. He did not care what her mother thought. But obviously Mary had not been honest with them, she’d not told them he was a hell-born bastard who no one could ever love.

“Your mother is right,” her aunt looked at Mary, then at Drew, just the way he imagined she would look at a street-sweep, with disdain. “Your behaviour last night, Lord Framlington, was unforgivable.”

Mary’s chin lifted in defiance. Drew sighed, he did not wish her to argue with her family on his behalf anymore, the time for that had passed. She needed her family,
he did
not need her,
he’d told himself that a hundred times already. “You’re quite right, Your Grace, Lady Marlow. Obviously I’m sorry I spoiled the evening, but it is water under the bridge today and as you can see, I do not keep Mary in a prison cell or feed her gruel, you may report back that all is well here.”

Both women stared, their matching eyes – the spit of Mary’s – narrowing. Those pale blue eyes could be sharp as a pin prick.

“You are not amusing, Lord Framlington,” her mother stated.

“Yes, I think you told me that before, Lady Marlow. I shall try to remember in future that you do not appreciate my humour.” Mary’s fingers gripped his arm.

“Mary, do you wish us to collect you?” her aunt asked.

“I can deliver her to where she needs to be.” Her aunt’s and mother’s eyebrows rose. “But have no fear I’ll not stay. I take it I am not invited—”

“I’ll meet you there,” Mary answered.

“Very well,” her mother accepted, but she showed no sign of going.

Drew turned, “Mary, did you offer our visitors tea, I can call down,” and then he looked back to her mother, “Or something stronger, perhaps a brandy to suffer my company a little longer.”

“There is no need for spite, Lord Framlington.” the Duchess of Wiltshire stated.

“My sentiments exactly.”

Mary’s fingers gripped his arm so tightly her fingernails began to bite through the fabric of his coat.

“Very well ladies, you clearly do not wish me here, and so I shall withdraw and leave you with Mary. I need to go out again anyway. Your servant.” He bowed to one then the other, then turned away. Mary’s fingers slipped from his arm uncertainly. He did not look back as he left.

He had not planned to go to Tats for a couple of hours though, and so in fact he had nothing to do, but he crossed back over to the stables and told the grooms to prepare the curricle for three hours’ time. Then leaned against the wall and watched about the corner with his arms folded over his chest waiting for the women to leave.

But before they got back into Pembroke’s grand carriage, the Duchess called over young Timmy and gave him a coin or two, dolling out her largesse.

Drew was lower than a street-sweep in her opinion then.

I don’t care
.

When the carriage pulled away he walked back across the street and knocked off Timmy’s hat to make him laugh, passing a wry comment on the Duchess’s gift.

Mary was seated in an armchair opening the letters her mother must have brought, there were half a dozen or more.

“Who are they from?” She jumped when he spoke, having not heard the door. Then stood. He held up a hand. “Read your letters, you do not have to tell me.”

“They’re from family, those who aren’t in town. This…” She held up the letter she’d just opened, “is from my younger brother Robbie.” Her face lit up as she said her brother’s name.

It was impossible not to love her. But he had to stop, because he could not bear to watch her with another man, and the time would come. He knew it would.

When she sat back down, he crossed the room to collect the paper, but as he passed he looked over her shoulder.

I cannot believe you fixed on a man so suddenly, and Framlington, a man with a renowned reputation. Good heavens, what has become of my sister!

It was more condemnation.

Drew put his hat and gloves down on a chest, then took off his riding coat, and threw it over the back of a chair. Picking up the paper he dropped into the seat beside hers, only to realise Mary had stopped reading letters and was currently reading him.

He looked at her. She was extremely pretty in the dusky pink muslin she’d chosen today. It had embroidered rose buds at the hems.

“You did not have to be rude to my mother.”

“She came here to spy.”

“She came to see if I was well. Which I was, until yesterday.”

Until she’d met his parents, and known him for who he really was, a worthless bastard. He would not wish to be married to himself. He shrugged and opened up the paper, deliberately covering his face.

“And now you hide from me.”

Coward.
“Persist and I will go out,” he responded from behind the paper.

“Again?”

“If I wish to, yes. I can do as I please, Mary, as can you.”

He heard her rise, and then the paper was crushed down before his eyes and she leaned down, her blue eyes sharp and flashing with fire like her mother’s and her aunt’s earlier. “So that is it. You do not love me anymore.”

Oh, I love you, but I know you cannot love me.
“No.”

She rose up to full height, hands on hips, eyes flashing, his little fire cracker.
Not his, some other man’s
. God it hurt to think it, but he had to think it.

“And if I love you?”

“You have no business doing so,” he held her gaze, schooling his to be cold. He had to shut her out. “Your father and brother are right. I am a bastard, Mary. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“And you discovered this yesterday?” God the woman could be clever when she wished.

“I discovered it last night.”

“Because I let your friend who only the night before you told me I should trust, escort me to a ball in your stead and dance one dance with him! And that means you will not even pretend to love me.”

He threw the paper aside standing as he did so. She took a step back. He wanted to hurt her as she’d hurt him. “I
was
only ever pretending, I see no point in keeping on. I will go out then, seeing as you are determined to pursue an argument.”

He walked about her.

Coward. Bastard.

“You have a letter too, Joseph brought it up!”

As he turned back she threw the thing at him. Better paper than pottery.

Having donned his coat he bent and picked it up. It was from Caro, his younger sister’s hasty handwriting formed his name in sharp strokes. It had no seal. Gripping it in one hand his other collected his hat and gloves and then he left.

In the street he stopped to read the letter. Kilbride had beaten her again, she’d lost his child, for the third time.

Drew was never sure which came first, the beatings or a child’s loss.

He sighed.

He’d never been in a position to help her, but he could help her now and as he seemed unable to help himself it would be good for one of them to have a happy end.

He gave Timmy another ha’penny when he crossed the road and told him to give it to his younger brother seeing as he’d had the Duchess’s largesse.

Chapter 27

Two weeks later Drew wandered down an aisle in the House of Millard, a warehouse in Cheapside, which sold Bengal Muslins and flannels. His sister gripped his arm. Despite the obscurity of their meeting place she wore a fine gauze veil over her face. Although it could be to cover bruises.

Kilbride had banned her from maintaining bonds with her rakehell brother, but when she asked, they met, even if only for minutes.

He’d been her shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen since they’d been children. She was illegitimate too and had been excluded and ill-treated in their childhood; he’d comforted her then, as he did now.

The Marquis, the man whose name they’d been given, had sold Caro off to the highest bidder as soon as she’d reached six and ten, disposing of his second embarrassment.

None of their family acknowledged her in public, or even in private. She was ostracized like Drew.

But Caro was in a worse state, she had no friends. Kilbride forbade it.

But then Drew had no friends either, now; since he’d hit Peter none of them had been in contact.

And
Damn it
, the thing that cut most was the fact his family had seen him punch Peter. He hated the possibility that they knew how much they’d dislodged his self-control or rather his self-worth. That was what they’d wished. They’d succeeded. He had no wife to turn to now either.

Pain gripped tight around his heart. He’d been living with an invisible metal band wrapped about his chest since he’d punched Peter.

He leaned to his sister’s ear. “I have found a house for you. You are leaving him.”

“I cannot, Drew, you know I cannot.”

Drew stopped and sucked in a breath, trying to dispel the tension in his chest. He could not let her stay with Kilbride, the man would kill her. “You can, Caro. The house is in Maidstone, it is not far from London. I’ll visit you frequently. It’s small, only a cottage, but I will employ a woman to manage it, cook and clean and such. You can be out of Kilbride’s reach in hours.”

“What if he finds me?”

“Why should he, he has no reason to go to Maidstone and you may change your name.”

She gripped his arm as two women walked past them.