The Guise of a Gentleman (Rogue Hearts)

by Hatch, Donna

  Elise looked down at Jared’s slumbering face. Even in sleep, he failed to look innocent, but his features did soften.

  “It’s about time you came out of mourning. Do you need anything, before I retire, ma’am?”

  Speechless at her normally prudish housekeeper’s apparent approval, Elise shook her head.

  Mrs. Chambers paused, pressed her lips together, and then clearly came to some sort of decision. She left, her skirts swishing.

  Elise decided she would take whatever may come for the simple, sublime joy of holding Jared during his moment of need.

  The fire died in the hearth and the clock ticked. Jared drew a shivering breath and shifted, nestling his face against her neck while his arms tightened around her. Emotion welled up and nearly overflowed. As she held this man, warmth and contentment settled over her.

  She wanted to hold him all night. Every night. For a long, long time.

  If Lily felt this way in Mr. Harrison’s arms, no wonder she wanted to remarry. Elise smiled ruefully to herself. Not that she was ready to leap into marriage, but the thought was no longer as unappealing as it once was.

  Mrs. Chambers returned carrying a tray with a cup. “In case he wakes,” she whispered. She paused at the door. “Do you wish me to remain?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. Good night.”

  “Good night, ma’am.”

  It was a bit late to be concerned with propriety now. Perhaps her status as a widow would shield her from whatever repercussions might arise out of her rather compromising position. At the moment, she hardly cared. Holding a hurting man in her arms seemed worth any embarrassment.

  No, not a man. This man.

  Somehow, he’d wormed his way through her defenses and into her heart. The softness that stole over her threatened to reduce her to tears again.

  Whatever else he might be, he was a good man. She had no doubt. And he’d won Colin’s affection. Seeing them together seemed right. Having him in her arms seemed right. Keeping him in her life seemed right.

  She held him close, not knowing if she could bear it when he left. In a few months, the world traveler would tire of this quiet country life, and return to the more exciting London or other parts unknown. And her life of order would return.

  The thought made her want to weep.

  She wasn’t certain she could tempt him to stay. Surely he had some feelings for her, or he would not have come to her at his hour of need. But she doubted they were enough to entice him to remain here with her.

  Could she trust this impulsive, unpredictable man with her heart?

  He raised his head. Then he closed his eyes and let out his breath. “Forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.”

  With obvious reluctance, he removed his arms from around her and sat up. He pushed his hands through his hair and tugged at his already crumpled cravat. “Did I really babble as badly as I fear I did?”

  “You grieved for your father.”

  He took a steadying breath. “I don’t normally reveal things of such a personal nature.”

  “It takes courage to speak of your feelings.”

  “I’m not sure why I did. I wasn’t even drunk.”

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to come to me.”

  He watched her gravely.

  To distract him, she offered him the cup Mrs. Chambers brought. “My housekeeper made one of her famous hot toddies for you in case you awoke.” She offered it to him. “It’s still warm.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted up in a strained attempt at humor. “Mrs. Chambers made it? Did she poison it to be rid of me?”

  She shook her head. “Believe it or not, she accepted your presence here tonight with aplomb.”

  “I must be losing my touch.”

  She smiled, in an attempt to lighten his unease. Without taking his eyes off her face, he accepted the drink. Vibrating with tension, he gulped it down and solemnly handed back the cup.

  “Your confidences are safe with me, Jared.”

  He managed a brief, humorless smile. “If only I’d known all I had to do to hear you say my Christian name would be to bare my soul and weep like a child, I’d have done it sooner.” He attempted a light-hearted tone, but it sounded forced.

  She summoned a smile for his benefit. “I like children.”

  He studied her, not rakishly, not guardedly, he simply gazed at her. “I don’t remember when I’ve ever felt this comfortable with a woman. With anyone.”

  “Why is that, do you think?”

  “I’m not certain. Women usually find me dangerous.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  “But you aren’t afraid.”

  She took his hand between hers. “I think you are capable of many things. But hurting me is not one of them.”

  A smile stole slowly over his face and finally touched his eyes. “I’ve only known you a few weeks and already you know me better than…” he paused, “than most women care to.”

  With gentleness that matched the feeling in Elise’s heart, Jared caressed her cheek and traced his thumb over her lips. “So soft. So beautiful.”

  She shivered at the gentleness, at the hot, swirling ache that started in her stomach and spread outward.

  “Elise.” He cupped her face in his hands.

  She breathed in his heady masculine scent, reveling in the feel of his rough hands on her face and his thumbs caressing her cheeks. Painfully slow, he leaned in. The unconcealed passion in his eyes should have frightened her. Instead, excitement coursed through her veins and her heart pounded in anticipation.

  The instant his lips touched hers, she shivered at the desire flooding her. Ever so softly, he brushed his lips over hers before pressing more firmly. She yielded.

  He deepened the kiss and Elise’s heart soared. Edward had never kissed her in such a manner, had never stirred her to such heat. Jared captured her mouth, taking command, demanding more. His hands moved down her shoulder, along her side, and encircled her waist. He pressed her against his hard, muscular body. Fissions of need rippled through her. His arm muscles flexed as he held her. The raw power of this man would have been daunting if she’d been any less hungry for him. She clung to him, no longer frightened by her own desire. He shivered and moved his mouth from her lips to her cheek, kissing his way to her temple.

  He groaned softly. “I should leave. This is far too tempting.”

  “Don’t go.” Oh, gracious, what had she just said? “Ah, I mean, the guest room is at your disposal. You needn’t go out this late.”

  He crushed her to him. “I can’t stay without…” He pulled back and brushed her hair away from her eyes. “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “I trust you.” The words came out of her mouth before she realized it. But, oddly enough, she meant them.

  He looked pained. “I’m a bad man. I’ve done things that would horrify you.”

  “Charlotte Greymore’s husband came home from the war suffering for the acts of violence committed in battle. That faded in time.”

  Smiling faintly, yet with sadness still shading his eyes, he pushed himself away as though it took great effort. Elise had the feeling she’d just missed a crucial puzzle piece.

  He rose and stood over her with a tender smile. Tender. Not rakish, not playful, not wicked. Tender. The softness in her heart crept outward.

  “Thank you.” He kissed her hand and pressed it against his cheek with his eyes closed. He quivered again, released her hand and strode quickly away.

  His rich voice rumbled as he conversed briefly with the footman by the door before he left. Without him, the house seemed dreadfully empty. Elise sat in stunned silence at the power that man held over her.

  Exhilarating.

  Heaven help her, the temptation to run after him and beg him to remain with her, loving her all night long in the way only he could, was nearly overwhelming. She clenched her fists while her heart thudded and a strange yearning coiled deep within. She struggled to
banish all those warm, wicked, delicious thoughts. Then, she stopped struggling and let them envelope her in all their glory.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jared stood shoulder to shoulder between his brothers Cole and Christian, drawing strength from their presence. Emptiness seized Jared’s chest each time he looked around his childhood home and failed to find either of his parents.

  He’d been wrong to stay away. Foolish and proud and wrong. And now it was too late.

  Jared knew he made a grim trio with Cole and Christian when the fourth guest who ventured an approach seemed to think better of it and turned away.

  Sipping his drink, Jared glanced at Cole. His eldest brother, as usual, remained impassive but the lines around Cole’s mouth had softened since his marriage. Impeccable as usual, Cole wore all black for the funeral, except for the white cravat and sapphire stick pin glittering from among the snowy folds. He stood with the air of authority only possessed by an heir bred for the role of earl.

  “It was a nice service,” Christian said, clearly feeling the need to break the silence.

  Cole only grunted in reply.

  Several irreverent quips popped into Jared’s head, but he stifled the impulse to voice them. Instead, he merely said, “It was.”

  Standing to Jared’s left, Christian ran his thumb along his lower lip. Jared wondered if Christian knew how much he looked like Father when he did that. Christian was a younger, almost pretty version of Cole; ‘pretty’ being the ultimate insult in the Amesbury brood and a taunt they’d hurled at each other all their lives. The only thing which saved Christian from the horror of being truly pretty was a small, very new scar near one eye. How had he gotten that?

  Every inch the height and breadth of Cole, Christian dressed as impeccably as the eldest, perfectly at ease with his black tailored clothing. And, unlike the child he’d been, Christian now stood with an air of quiet confidence, if more solemn than usual. Perfect, as always. Everything about Christian was gold, from the color of his hair to the quality of his heart. Even the cravat looked good on Christian. The dog. Jared resisted tugging on his own necktie.

  “The solicitor wants to meet with us all tomorrow at eleven o’clock, if convenient,” Christian said with a glance at Cole.

  Grief etched lines around Christian’s eyes, and he moved slowly as if in a dream. As the one who’d stayed home while the rest of them went off to war, and then took care of Father as his health declined, Father’s death must have hit Christian hardest of all.

  “Of course,” Cole said.

  Relatives, many with names Jared could barely remember, mingled with the guests. The murmur of voices and soft laughter filtered through the sun- drenched air. If the guests hadn’t been dressed somberly, this would appear a garden party instead of a funeral luncheon.

  Jared finished his drink and set it on a passing tray. As he glanced at a nearby path, he wondered if it would be bad form to disappear into one of the many gardens that graced the Tarrington ancestral grounds.

  Yet, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were intruding. Everywhere he looked, he noticed things that had changed since he left. Everything was steeped in memory; some clear, others the dimmed memories of a child who’d taken home and family for granted. The few times Jared had returned to England over the years, he’d visited his mother and siblings when they were in London, but he’d kept the visits brief and carefully timed so as to ensure never coming face to face with Father.

  How he longed to go back and reclaim the years lost.

  As if sensing Jared’s regret, Christian gripped his shoulder briefly. “It’s good to have you home.”

  Jared sent him a look of gratitude. Christian met his gaze with a new intensity that had never been there before.

  Grant, Jared’s junior by three years, sauntered to them. He normally scorned fashion and convention by wearing attire more appropriate for stalking hapless footpads in London’s seediest alleys. Yet, for the occasion of attending the funeral of his own father, a prominent earl, Grant had dressed in a tailored black superfine. Cole had probably threatened to throw him in the stocks if he didn’t appear in suitable clothing. Not that such a threat would have effected Grant.

  Secretly, Jared agreed with Grant’s preferred attire, and had gleefully shunned gentleman’s clothing while he’d played a pirate. Openly, Jared often taunted Grant’s lack of decorum. Not that Grant ever seemed to care, curse him.

  At the moment, Grant seemed almost amused. Well, amused for Grant. Less grim than usual, anyway. He lifted a brow as he looked at each of them in turn. “Funeral luncheons are supposed to be solemn, not drive guests to suicide.”

  Jared smirked. Cole turned a baleful glare on Grant. Christian ignored him. No surprise there; Grant and Christian had spent the better part of their lives ignoring each other.

  Grant looked the least like the Amesbury brothers. Like them all, he shared Father’s build, but his eyes were silvery-gray instead of blue, his features sharper, more angular, and his hair was almost black, a good reflection of his soul, Jared thought. A wide, ragged scar ran from his forehead to his jaw, narrowly missing his eye, making his appearance truly forbidding.

  Grant’s assessing gaze took on a calculating glint, and Jared waited for the cynical wisdom he would no doubt spew forth, making them look like illiterate babes.

  “Wait. Here, you should stand thusly.” Grant grasped Jared by the arm and tugged. Curious, Jared did not resist as Grant moved him to the other side of Cole. “There. Now you’re in ascending order of pretty, beginning with Christian.”

  Jared laughed. Christian glanced heavenward, no doubt communing with angels mere mortals could not see, and calling down a holy amount of patience. Jared expected some kind of witty retort from Christian but he remained silently impervious to Grant’s barbs.

  Growing reflective, Jared pitied Christian for the torment he’d suffered at the hands of his brothers. From Jared, especially. They’d called him ‘pretty boy,’ the ‘perfectly perfect Christian,’ and ‘Mama’s favorite.’ The last, of course, was spoken purely in jealousy, since Mama’s attention was a coveted prize. Her soft hands and soothing voice were memories Jared had most treasured when he’d been far from home.

  Grant turned to Cole. “And I suppose now that you’re the impressive Sixth Earl of Tarrington, you expect us to call you ‘My Lord?’”

  Cole cuffed Grant on the back of the head. “Remember your manners, whelp. As head of the family, I control the money now. Unlike Jared and Christian, you’ve no investments of your own.”

  Grant yawned. “None that you know of. My Lord.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Perhaps you’re disappointed that Christian’s still prettier than you?”

  Christian rolled his eyes. Jared couldn’t have borne it had he been the target of Grant’s merciless onslaught. Yet despite all Grant’s attempts to ruffle him, Christian remained impassive, almost bored, like a tower standing against a storm.

  As Jared took a good look at his youngest brother, he realized, except for his blond hair, Christian simply looked like a younger version of Father. His lips were slightly fuller, and his cheekbones more prominent, but there was truly nothing feminine about Christian, certainly nothing to warrant the insult ‘pretty.’ He’d certainly grown into a capable, dignified man.

  “Any new directives you wish to make, O wise head of the household?” Grant taunted Cole.

  “Leave him alone, Grant,” Christian said wearily.

  Grant folded his arms and fixed a blank stare at Christian. “But of course; anything you say, Pretty Boy.”

  Christian’s calm exterior slipped as he faced him and his tone turned mocking. “Did we hurt your feelings when no one invited you to stand in the pretty line?”

  Grant let out a snort but before he could say another word, Christian added, “Oh, no, of course not; you’d have to have feelings.”

  Cole interjected with a decisive, “Enough.”

  The twins, Margaret and Rachel, approached
. As if sensing the tension, Margaret lifted her head and looked at them with the condescending gaze one might expect from a queen. Marriage to a marquis had only encouraged her haughty demeanor. Or perhaps it was the decided lack of happiness she’d found in her wedded state.

  Rachel shadowed her, her expression bland, but tragedy shimmered around the edges. Normally vibrant, she’d taken Father’s death very hard, especially since it came so close on the heels of Mother’s.

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Rachel said. “I keep expecting him to walk around the corner.”

  Christian examined the ground, his golden head lowered. “I’d hoped he would rally at Bath.”

  “I suppose a broken heart will do that to you,” Rachel said with a faraway look.

  Decidedly preoccupied, Christian wandered away, probably in search of something to eat. Though nearly five and twenty, he still ate like a colt.

  “Few find a love like theirs, outside of fairy tales,” Margaret said with a hard note to her voice.

  Rachel turned to Cole. “You did, though, didn’t you? Find a love like Mama and Father?”

  Cole’s expression softened so dramatically that Jared had to laugh. “You besotted fool.”

  Cole grinned, looking decidedly smug. “Better than a lonely fool.”

  Jared scanned the crowed until he found Cole’s wife, Alicia. Poised and gracious, she moved among the guests who’d attended the funeral. Though no one would ever consider her uncommonly beautiful, Alicia was uniquely lovely, and glowed with quiet joy. Even in her mourning attire, she looked radiant. She called everyone by name, and fixed her attention upon them as if they were the only one with whom she wanted to converse, whether a member of the nobility or the most humble field worker.

  Cole had found a remarkable woman. Jared had liked Alicia immediately when they’d met a year ago. She and Elise Berkley would like each other. Both possessed courage, inner strength, and uncommon gentleness.

  The thought of introducing Elise to his family filled him with warmth, and suddenly the estate felt like home.