The Dangerous Love of a Rogue

by Jane Lark

  She sat up, gripping the sheet to her chest, her pale blue eyes starkly cold, like ice. “Liar.”

  They’d just shared something blissful…What?

  “You do not love me. I doubt you love anyone bar yourself.”

  My God. “I do love you. I know your family told you otherwise, but they are wrong.”

  She let the sheet fall, slipping off the bed, going to one of her trunks. “You cannot lie anymore, I heard you last night.”

  She’d been asleep.

  She lifted the lid of a trunk. “I heard your friends joking about how they helped seduce me with their words in those letters.”

  Damn it all to hell! He turned and crossed the room.

  The lid of her trunk banged down as it slipped from her hand and she nearly fell in an attempt to avoid him.

  She had feared he would hit her. He would never do that, but it cut him hard to know she’d believe he could.

  He lifted his hands, palm outward, as the pain in his side roared from his rib being jarred. “Mary…” Her eyes flashed fire at him again. “You were pretending to sleep…” God he was an ass.

  “You never wrote those letters. Your friends did. They were laughing at me. I’m glad I amuse you all—”

  “Mary—”

  “I shall not let them do the same to Emily, I am going to call on her and tell her not trust Lord Brooke.”

  “Mary, darling, come on, they were jesting…”

  Tears suddenly sparkled in her eyes, and then one tumbled over. She sniffed and wiped it away. “It was unkind of you. You should have left me alone.”

  They were not words of accusation, but those of a desperately unhappy young woman. A wave of love rolled in on top of him, crashing over him, a sensation he was becoming used to now. He stepped forward, he wished to comfort her. “Mary… Honestly, darling.”

  She pushed his hands away.

  Devil take it. “Mary?”

  She turned her back and bent to open her trunk again, her voice weighted by tears. “What is done cannot be undone. Will you help me dress?”

  “Of course I shall. But I only asked them to help with the letters because you would not meet me again, I am not good with words, it does not make the sentiment within them and my feelings untrue.” He turned to dress himself. “I would have done anything to win you.”

  “Anything?”

  He turned back. She stood with a dress clasped to her chest.

  “So you would tell me lies for my dowry. Words are easily said, Andrew, and I foolishly believed them.”

  “They are true. I love you.” Anger and frustration had begun to sizzle inside him. Why must she make him so angry?

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Damn her. He turned away. He was tired, still half asleep and a little drugged by the aftermath of sex.

  He picked out his clothes and tossed them on the bed then looked back at her. “I do not know how to convince you, Mary.”

  “You cannot, it would be better if you simply did not lie.”

  “I am not lying but clearly you value your family’s word more than mine. I suppose you do not love me now?” It was a childish question. But Drew was out of his depth.

  “I do not trust you…” she answered.

  He turned away, disgusted with himself as much as her. Perhaps if he had not made such a mull of things yesterday and become angry, she would still have believed. “I will dress and then I am going out for a ride. I usually take one of the horses out before breakfast.” He was running away from her again, coward that he was. But he didn’t know what else to do.

  He turned to the basin and tipped in some water from the jug, it splashed into the bowl. She kept her back to him, searching through her trunks, while he washed and dressed.

  Once dressed, he looked back at her. She’d laid her clothes out on the bed. He supposed she missed having a maid to do such tasks. He ought to find them better accommodation as soon as he could, with space for staff.

  He sighed. “I’ll leave you. What do you want for breakfast?”

  She looked at him as though he was a monster with two heads.

  He did not wait for her answer. “I’ll have some bread and cheese sent up.”

  He left.

  When he returned an hour and a half later the sitting room was empty, and the untouched loaf of bread and cheese stood on the table.

  The door of the bedroom was open, but she was not in there.

  Fear beat its drum in his heart. Had she left him?

  He’d ridden his horse hard and fast across the open lawns of Hyde Park, burning off his anger and frustration, willing himself to work out how to convince her that he loved her. He’d found no answers, but he could not keep hiding and so he’d returned. Too late?

  Her things were in the room though. Hairpins, her hairbrush and the mirror stood on his chest of drawers. She’d not left him.

  Her corset had been thrown on the bed.

  Damn, she’d asked him to help her dress. He had not.

  He returned to the sitting room. A sheet of paper rested on top of her writing desk. I have gone home to fetch some things.

  Home. The word cut him as deeply as her accusations this morning. Here, should be her home now, where he was, not there, where her family was.

  Hell. She must have walked alone, she had no one to accompany her.

  He should find a maid, to come during the day. He looked at his watch. How long ago had she left? Perhaps he ought to go after her. But as the bread was untouched she’d probably left early and would already be there.

  This was a statement to him; that she would not be tied down by him. He heard it loud and clear.

  He could follow, but he did not wish to call at her brother’s house, he’d no intention of subjecting himself to her male relatives’ spite. He could go out himself of course, again, and pretend he did not care that she’d gone. Or he could wait here for her return. He chose the last, slipping off his coat as he walked to the window. Today the fine weather had broken, the sky was hidden behind grey clouds… What if she was caught in rain?

  She would not be, though, Pembroke would send her back in his carriage, and curse Drew.

  His selfish side wished her family had cut her. But that was a stupid thought, because he had always known they would not exclude a child, and that was to their credit.

  Drew cut himself some bread, trying to learn a new skill – patience.

  She returned after three tedious hours in which he’d played a boring game of chess against himself. The minute the door handle turned, he stood, feeling like the child who’d craved the attention he never received.

  Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright beneath the brim of her straw bonnet. She wore a pale pink walking dress, the cloth decorated with cream flowers. The ribbon on her bonnet was cream too. She looked beautiful, as she always did.

  She stood back and let Pembroke’s footman pass her, pointing to the table on which the half eaten loaf rested. “Put them there please Tom.”

  The young man moved to the table, not even looking at Drew, and set down the pile of books he carried. There was a small bag on his arm, which he set there too. “Miss Marlow, if that is all.”

  “It is thank you, Tom. But if you would call for me at two tomorrow, I’d be very grateful.”

  It appeared she’d resolved the issue of accompaniment herself.

  Drew’s hands slipped into his pockets as she shut the door.

  She turned and looked at him, her fingers lifting to untie the bow of her bonnet.

  “Mary.” He sucked in a breath. “You went to Pembroke’s for the books I take it–”

  “And my embroidery and threads.” Her sweet voice echoed about his room. It denied the fact they’d argued this morning.

  Lifting his hands out of his pockets he walked towards her. “You should not have gone alone.”

  “I did not.” She looked at him as she lifted off her bonnet. “Joseph had one of the maids from below stairs
accompany me there, and as you saw Tom walked me back.” She turned away and put her bonnet down, then drew off her gloves.

  His contrary nature admired her for defying any need to rely on him. “You should have eaten though. You did not eat last night I know.”

  “I ate at home. Breakfast was still being served when I arrived.” She walked past him, avoiding him, going to the pile of books.

  “It is not your home anymore.” The word had kicked him.

  Her fingers resting on the books, she looked back. “Mama and Papa are going to a musical evening tonight, at the Everetts’, Mama asked if we wished to join them.”

  He sighed.

  She continued, holding his gaze. “They will call for us.”

  He did not want to let her go and yet, as things stood, what would they do if they stayed here together? Argue… Hurt one another… “You may go if you wish. I’ll pass if you do not mind.”

  Her gaze fell away, looking at the floorboards at his feet. “I’m sorry I took so long.” She turned back to the table and looked at the books. “My sister-in-law arrived with my nephew and my brothers and sisters. I could not just walk out again.”

  “I’m glad you had opportunity to see them. Shall I send down for coffee or tea, or is there something else you’d like?”

  “No, nothing.” She glanced at him like he was an anomaly.

  “Well, I want some. I’ll send down.” He rang the bell, then turned back, watching her in silence as she lifted an embroidery frame from the bag. It was the strangest feeling having her feminine things in his rooms, with her perfume lingering in the air.

  It was not just her things though which changed the atmosphere, but her, her warm nature, and internal beauty. She made the place a home and yet she did not think it so.

  Sighing, he ignored the urge to bite at her, hanging on to his patience and keeping his voice temperate. It was not the outcome he had hoped for with her. But for now at least if they could be companionable, better that than nothing. “I am sorry about this morning. But you were wrong. I do have feelings for you. Yes, my friends came up with the words in those letters, but that is the only part they played. Everything that I have said to you is the truth, Mary. I’ve been playing an unfulfilling game of chess against myself. Do you play?”

  She looked at him, suspicion in her eyes. “I play, yes.”

  “Then would you play a game with me?” She still looked suspicious, but she nodded.

  He returned to the armchair he’d been sitting in and moved the table bearing the chessboard, so it stood between the two most comfortable chairs. Looking up he encouraged her to sit. She did, as he began resetting the game, moving the pieces back into their starting positions.

  Chapter 20

  Mary watched Andrew as he stood before his mirror, tying his cravat.

  He’d laced her corset and now she waited with her back turned so he could button up her dress.

  “I shall be only a moment.” She watched him look at his reflection as he secured the knot, and set it just so. Then he turned to her.

  His fingers brushed against her bottom and then her corset as he slotted each little ivory button into place.

  They’d spent a quiet afternoon over the chessboard.

  It was easier to believe they could form some sort of an acceptable marriage from this mess when he behaved like this. She had pulled herself together after he’d left this morning. Whether he loved her or not, he was her husband. She had made this choice, she had no option but to live with him, and therefore she must make their marriage work.

  “There you are.”

  As he finished Mary caught sight of her image in his mirror. She’d been unable to do anymore with her hair than she’d done earlier. She’d merely twisted it into a knot.

  She turned to the small bag in which she’d put her personal items and jewellery. She searched out a pretty silver comb and looked in her mirror to position it in her hair, to make it look more ornamental. Then she found out a necklace with a small silver cross which her father had bought for her.

  “Here, let me.” Drew took it and looked at it for a moment before setting it about her neck.

  The loose ring on her finger called its presence, she had kept her finger curled a little all afternoon so it would not slip off, but then earlier Andrew had tied a thin band of leather about it so it did not slip.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, apart from my shawl.”

  It lay on the bed. He turned to pick it up, then set it about her shoulders. At the same moment Mary heard a knock strike the door downstairs.

  “That will be my parents and John.”

  “Perfect timing then.”

  “Yes.” She was about to hurry away.

  “Mary.” He lifted his arm. “Let me walk you down. What time will you return?”

  “I am not sure, possibly midnight, or perhaps after…”

  “Then I shall come home before midnight. I shall be here when you return.”

  She felt as though he liked her at least. She knew he liked her body, but she thought he liked her company too.

  A vast chasm stretched between like and love though.

  They walked down the stairs in silence.

  One of John’s footmen waited at the door. He stepped aside as Andrew gripped her arm and led her out.

  A footmen held the carriage door open, waiting to help her, and within she could see both her father and John watching Andrew, with accusing eyes. Andrew stiffened, his fingers gripping her arm a little more firmly, before sliding to hold her hand instead, to steady her, as she climbed the step into the carriage.

  “Goodbye. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

  She glanced back at Andrew and saw a genuine look of good will.

  He did like her. She was sure of that at least.

  She smiled. “Goodbye.”

  He bowed his head, as she settled into the seat beside Kate. Then the carriage door shut, and Andrew walked away.

  Mary felt as if her marriage was a game she played. She’d stepped back into her old world this morning, and now again, and her mind could not merge the two.

  “Why is he not coming?” John asked.

  “It’s not Andrew’s sort of entertainment.” This morning she’d said he’d attended a business meeting and weaved a web of white lies about their evening together. She wished her parents to think her happy, otherwise they’d hate Andrew more and it would make everything worse.

  “And what is his favoured entertainment?” Her father growled.

  Mary looked out the window. She didn’t know where he’d gone. He had not said.

  Kate’s fingers touched her arm, “It was good of him to walk you out. I’m sure in future he may be persuaded to join us.”

  “I hope not. I do not wish him anywhere near you, Katherine.” John sighed.

  “He is Mary’s husband,” Kate answered.

  “Kate is right, John,” Mary’s mother agreed. “We must make the best of this now for Mary’s sake.”

  “But I cannot stand him either,” her father responded.

  Mary looked at them all. “Please, do not argue… and must you keep glaring so horribly at him. I was silly to let him persuade me but I am married to him now and–”

  “And you love him,” Kate finished for her, squeezing her arm. “Otherwise you would not have chosen to elope with him. You should remember that, John…”

  “I do not blame Mary,” John leaned forward and touched her hand.

  Her father sat in the far corner. “You love him, still? Even knowing he lied to you?”

  “I cannot choose to love or not, Papa. I cannot simply stop, and he is not all bad. He is still saying he loves me too.”

  John made a disparaging sound and her father said, “I shall give him a chance to prove himself worthy of you, and you may tell him so. But as I told him yesterday if he does one thing to hurt you…” The threat was left to hang in the air.

  Mary wondered what else her fath
er had said to Andrew yesterday.

  Was that the cause of Andrew’s anger, and why he had stormed off when she’d taken her father’s side?

  He’d said when he’d apologised this morning that he’d been angry at John and her father and taken it out on her.

  Perhaps her father’s threats were one reason why.

  * * *

  At half past the hour of ten in the evening, Drew sauntered into the Everetts’. Conveniently it was the supper hour.

  Mary’s absence had tugged at him like the pull of a magnet all night. He wanted to be near her, no matter that he’d have to endure the presence of her brother, and her father. He’d decided to brave it for the benefit of his beautiful young wife’s company. Of course society would observe the bruise on his chin and his flourishing black eye, but it would be Pembroke and Marlow who’d bear the embarrassment of that, and half of them had seen it yesterday anyway.

  It had been easy persuading his friends to provide him with some cover when he’d advised them that Miss Smithfield would be there. They walked in, in their usual pack, wolves on the hunt. But once they’d entered he separated from them instantly, leaving them as they decided to head for the drinks table.

  It took Mary all of seconds to spot him, and her mouth dropped open a little as she did so, unable to hide her shock.

  He smiled at her. It did not look as if he was an unwelcome shock.

  She turned away from her usual knot of friends as he neared, and when he reached her he caught up her hand, bowed over it and kissed her knuckles, then tipped over her hand and also kissed her wrist above her glove.

  When he straightened, he said, “Wife.”

  “I did not expect you.” She sounded stunned.

  “I did not intend coming, but I missed you, so I changed my mind.”

  A blush flared on her pale cheeks but if his arrival embarrassed her she hid it well and turned to introduce him to her friends. He’d watched her with these young people for a year. They were barely younger than him but they all seemed so naïve, it was as if he had a dozen years on them not four or five.

  As they stared at him as if he was an oddity, he forced himself to be polite, while Mary’s fingers gripped his arm.