The Dangerous Love of a Rogue (49 page)

“Because I was fool enough to tell her it was my given name, and she now insists upon it to recognise all that I am, and not simply the man people see.”

“I am getting to know you, Drew. You are aggressive only when you feel vulnerable, and now I think you’re nervous of facing the others. Yet if you let them near, they will welcome you. Set up your guard and it will take thrice as long for you to be accepted.” He looked out of the window on the far side, leaving Drew to his own musing.

Drew pulled down the brim of his hat and slid down in the seat, resting his boot heel on the far side.

Mary’s uncle laughed again.

Drew smiled and shook his head.

* * *

Mary hovered in the hall on the first floor, her fingers on the banister as she looked along the statues, busts, portraits and numerous ancient things her brother and her grandfather had thought of interest and acquired. It all seemed so meaningless, so hollow.

Laughter rang from the drawing room echoing along the marble figures and the plaster sculpting the ceiling. The house was full of people. John had sent for her mother and father, which of course had meant her sisters and brothers came too, but now the whole family had travelled out of London to stay with John.

There had been a scene in town last night. Uncle Richard had challenged the Marquis of Kilbride and accused him of lying about Andrew and Caroline and of beating his wife. Poor Caroline had been mortified when Mary had told her. She had not come out of her room since everyone had arrived, she did not even wish for Mary’s company…

Mary sighed.

She wished for company, and yet she did not want to go into the drawing room where everyone had gathered to discuss the part they’d played last night and how exciting it had been to see the true villain cringe and stumble for words. Everyone, apart from her mother and father and John and Kate, had been there to support the principle of Andrew’s heroic act – helping his sister escape.

Everyone now believed him innocent, and everyone had told her how happy they were that Lord Framlington was not the man they’d thought him.

But all the well-wishing and self-congratulation was irrelevant.
He is not here!

She had been told that Richard believed whole-heartedly Andrew would be freed today.

Yet…

There was no surety.

She could not sit, or even stand in the drawing room listening to their chatter and their laughter. It would make her want to scream.

Yet nor could she go to her room, her room would be too silent. Sitting in her room would leave her head running free with fear, and her thoughts could not be distracted with books or sewing or anything quiet.

Another round of laughter echoed from the room along the hall, and then one of her uncles began recounting another element of the scene from last night.

Mary turned away and hurried downstairs.

She would walk out in to the grounds. The air and the sunshine and the space would do her more good than anything within the house.

When she reached the hall she said to the footman who appeared. “If anyone asks where I am please tell them I am merely out walking in the park.”

She slipped out the front door, not stopping to pick up a cloak or a shawl or anything, but it was not cold.

She did not go towards the lake though, or even towards the gardens at the rear of the house, her feet led her from the gravel at the front of the house on to the drive, pace by pace. Her arms clutched across her chest.

She hoped her family were right – that Andrew would come home today.

She walked past the stables. It was nearly six of the clock when she had left the house, surely if Andrew was to come today he would come soon.

Her arms uncrossed and fell to her sides, as her pace increased, and they swung in time with her strides.

Perhaps he was already on his way.

Perhaps he was already near.

She gripped her dress, lifted the hem, then ran.

It was with desperation. With a desire to be with him. To fly to him. If she could have grown wings…

She raced along the drive for a long way, her heart pounding and her hope crying out for speed, as if simply by her belief in his return he would come back. But then she became too tired and out of breath, and a stitch of pain caught in her side so she had to slow, yet she did not stop, she continued, walking instead of running, her arms swinging at her sides again as she still tried to hurry.

Are you coming? I’m here.

Speaking to him, even though he could not hear, helped ease her mind, holding back her fear and restraining her roaring hope.

“Andrew!” she cried aloud as she began to run once more.

John’s drive went on forever, she could not see the entrance gate, it was probably still two miles away.

She walked again when she became tired, determined to keep going, unmindful of the distance growing between her and the house. All she thought of was Andrew, of the chance that at this moment he could be sitting in a carriage, racing towards her. She ran again. The thought of him urging her on.

Soon. Perhaps. Soon she would see him.

She had no idea how far she’d walked and run. The avenue lining the drive was too similar to identify at what point you were along it. But she had been unable to see the house for a while. She still did not stop, though, she could not have stopped now. She wanted to see him, and she felt as though stopping, returning to the house, would be to admit she did not believe, and she wanted to believe.

She saw the gates. They stood open, the gate house beside them.

She stopped. If she approached the gate house, the gatekeeper would wish to know what she was doing this far out from the house, with no cloak, no bonnet and no gloves. But it was like coming to a halt at the edge of the earth. It was as though Andrew was in an underworld from Greek mythology a place she could not reach, she had run as far as she could, and now…

She would wait…

She clutched her arms across her chest and stood still, looking at the gates a few hundred yards away. Any moment, any moment, Uncle’s Richard’s carriage might appear. It must appear. She could not bear it if it did not.

* * *

When the carriage turned through the gates of Pembroke’s estate, Drew sat up straight, lifting off his hat so he could lean his head against the window and see ahead.

Good God.
A lone woman stood by the side of the drive a few yards away, far out from the house. He pulled the window strap, to pull the glass down. As it fell the scent of damp grass swept into the carriage, it must have rained. Throwing his hat aside he leaned out to look.

Mary.

Her hand lifted.

He ducked back in and knocked on the carriage roof.

“What is it?” Wiltshire asked.

A lopsided smile tugged his lips as the carriage slowed, love swelling inside Drew’s chest. “Your niece, daft girl. Heaven knows what she is doing right out here?”

Love; a painful but beautiful ache running through his blood, Drew, turned and sprung the door latch as the carriage drew to a halt.

He leapt out, his fingers gripping the handle, then ran the few paces to meet Mary as she ran at him.

He caught her up off her feet and hugged her hard. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed him.

He could grow to like these homecomings too much. The feeling was addictive.

When he set her down, she pulled away. Tears made her eyes appear like glass, and her palms pressed to his unshaven jaw.

“I smell like a sewer and look like a vagrant, I know, but I did not want to waste time I could spend getting back to you in tidying myself up.” His voice rasped with emotion, hoarse.

“I cannot believe you are here. I feared they would not let you go.”

“They would not have done, I’m sure, had not your uncle become involved. I am in debt to him. But Mary, it is good to see you.”
I feared never seeing you again.
He hugged her once more, his fingers laying over her soft hair.

“I thought I’d lost you.” she whispered against his soiled neckcloth.

“Not this time, and not ever now.” The emotion swelling in his chest again he set her away, looking at her. “And what on earth are you doing this far from the house?”

“I walked out to wait for you, in the hope you’d come. I wanted to greet you alone, not with everyone watching.”

“Which means they are all wondering where you are, and becoming frantic. Come.” As he turned he tucked Mary protectively beneath his arm. “I cannot say I look forward to meeting any of them in this state. Do you suppose we can avoid it?”

“We could have them take the carriage to the stables and go in through the servants’ hall.” She smiled up at him, her pale eyes glinting with happiness.

“Then that is what we’ll do.”

“Uncle Richard,” she said in greeting as they reached the carriage. Drew knocked down the step and handed her up, shouting up to the box for the driver to take them directly to the stables, and not as far as the house.

“Mary.” Richard smiled.

Mary hugged her uncle. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome.”

Drew took a seat opposite them thinking Mary would sit beside Richard, but she did not, she turned and sat next to him.

“I have asked the driver to run us into the stables, Mary is going to take me in through the servants’ hall so I can clean up.”

“As you wish.” Richard smiled at Drew. “But you will be expected to attend dinner, you cannot hide forever, but until then I will have them send up hot water for you to bathe.” He looked at Mary, and raised one eyebrow. “To your room?”

She nodded, blushing.

As the carriage turned into the stable yard Drew saw a row of footmen lined up before the house. They had seen the carriage coming but unless they ran across the drive they could not reach it.

“Quick,” Mary laughed as the carriage drew to a halt and grooms began surrounding it. Drew sprung the door, and leapt out, then knocked down the step for her and took her hand.

She glanced back at her uncle smiling, and Drew looked at him smiling too. “Thank you.”

“Come.” Mary tugged on his hand. “This way.”

Drew heard Richard laugh as Mary pulled him away.

She led him along a stone flagged hallway, lined by servants, who stiffened and bowed in a stream of movement which followed them.

Mary spoke acknowledging a few of them, but not stopping.

Then when, what Drew presumed to be the housekeeper, appeared from a room to see what the commotion was, Mary said. “Please send some tea and cakes up to my room. Thank you.”

They ran up the narrow servants’ staircase, no longer holding hands, as Mary lifted the hem of her dress, and when they reached her room, Mary laughed, drawing laughter from Drew’s throat too.

Chapter 40

Mary was sitting on the bed, her knees bent up and clasped by her arms, her stocking feet balancing on the very edge of the mattress, toes peeping from beneath the hem of her dress.

“You look charming, my love…” Andrew’s head rested against the rim of the tub and he grinned and winked at her. “You are a sight for sore eyes. Why do you not come and get in with me?” He deployed his roguish half smile.

“And be even later for dinner and have my entire family know why I am late. Thank you, I shall resist.”

He gave her a devil-may-care grin. “We could abscond.”

“You have just won their favour; do not antagonise them again”

He sat up, then stood, the water streaming down his bare body… “So I am sentenced to their company.”

“You are.” She smiled, knowing his nakedness was another ploy to win her over. Her eyes followed his movement, her heart longing to give in.

“If you like what you see, sweetheart, we can dally here.”

“Or…” She uncurled her legs and slid from the bed, smiling at him as she reached for the towel. “You could stop procrastinating and get dressed. Then we can go down to dinner.” She threw the towel at him.

He caught it laughing, but then threw it back onto the bed, and moved quickly grabbing her arm and her nape and pulling her mouth to his.

She indulged for a moment, but then pushed him away. “Andrew. Now I am soaked,”

“You’re changing anyway,” he said on a low seductive whisper.

A brief light knock hit the door leading from her sitting room. “My Lady, are you ready to dress?”

“And now she will think we have done what you intended…” Her damp dress clung to her breasts and her thighs.

Andrew laughed.

“Wait there Betsy! I will come out to you!” Mary tossed an annoyed look at him, though internally she was not annoyed at all. She was full of joy as she saw his eyes dance with humour.

“Just remember, Andrew Framlington, I am on to you now. No shocking my family to set up smokescreens, no hiding behind games and deviltry. I want them to know you.”

He grinned wickedly

* * *

The fine ivory muslin of her dress slid against the skin of her thighs as Mary walked down the stairs beside Andrew.

“You look gorgeous, by the way.” Andrew whispered through the edge of his lips, his eyes on the footmen in the hall below. His breath caressed her bare shoulder. Her dress had very short sleeves, a low bodice and back. His fingers caressed her waist, as the single strand of pearls about her neck caressed her skin.

When they had left her room he’d offered his arm, and said, “You may take me to my sentence.”

“It is not a sentence,” she’d chided, resting her satin gloved hand on his arm, over his black evening coat. “Please do not upset them.”

“I will behave, Mary, I promise, no nonsense.”

But even though he had promised, her heart beat in a firm pace, a little afraid of what was to come.

“How many are here?”

The hum of conversation rose from the rooms below.

“All my uncles and aunts and their families, and my older cousins with their husbands. The younger children are in the nursery, but the older children will be dining with us. The boys are back from college.”

“So we are speaking of hordes then, and your father?”