The Dangerous Love of a Rogue (15 page)

Drew smiled.
That is for me to know
…

Peter laughed again, shaking his head before sitting back down.

The others sat too, but as they did, Drew caught sight of Pembroke across the room. Mary’s half-brother sat among his influential uncles, looking Drew’s way.

Drew sent him a twisted smile. Let the bugger squirm, he would find out the cause of their exuberance soon enough.

But Drew needed to be wary, he could not let her family find out. They would stop this instantly if they knew, and he’d have her father, her brother and her uncles baying for his blood. But they would be anyway when the truth was out.

Looking away Drew leaned forward to pour himself coffee. He was in for a fight, but it was a fight worth having. He would need a day alone with her. It would be best to leave in daylight then they could travel more easily and cover more miles to find somewhere they could be private for a night. There, he would fix their fate, so when they were found, there would be no going back.

Chapter 8

When Mary saw Lord Framlington enter the ballroom with his friends two nights later she could recount how many hours and minutes had passed since he’d left her at the garden gate. Their secret had been bursting to break from her lips ever since. She wished to scream it aloud, to grip her friends’ arms and whisper in their ears, to take her mother and father aside and say,
I am engaged
.

Her fears had slipped away and instead her heart brimmed with a tentative joy.

Her family would be disappointed, and angry, but she would make them understand.

Last night she’d claimed a headache and kept to her room rather than eat dinner amongst them; not wishing to face the guilt but to hold on to happiness. She had not slept, or eaten since then, she was not tired or hungry. Her body hummed with energy, waiting impatiently for the moment they would elope, jubilant yet terrified the lies she’d told would start to unravel.

Her mother had come to her room to talk this morning, sat on Mary’s bed and taken her hand, then asked, “What is wrong?”

Mary had denied anything was. But then her mother had said she’d heard Lord Farquhar had announced his engagement to Bethany last evening. She’d thought Mary upset because of it. She had kissed Mary’s cheek and promised she and Mary’s father would always be there.

Mary hoped they would forgive her.

She hoped to elope with Drew soon, before any more of her lies came to light. But oh, she wished they could be like Bethany and Daniel as they were now, surrounded by her friends all congratulating them. Mary longed to open her mouth and say, I am engaged too, but she was unsure how her friends would receive the news. They only knew Drew by reputation. They would probably call her mad.

Her gaze left her friends and looked for him as love coursed through her blood. He stood among his friends, and it was as if they stood either side of a battle field, the chasm between their lives too wide. But she would cross it.

He probably could not see her as she stood among her friends.

A confident smile hung on Drew’s lips then he said something to his friends and the group broke into laughter.

Something tight gripped in her stomach.

Lord Brooke and Mr Harper looked over their shoulders, then Drew’s gaze lifted and searched the room. She guessed they were looking for her.

What had he said to them? Why had they laughed?

A woman approached the group.

Mary recognised her, Lady Kilbride, the Marquis of Kilbride’s wife, she had seen Drew speaking with her once before. The woman laid a hand on Drew’s forearm. He bent towards her, letting her whisper in his ear. His friends turned away, talking amongst themselves. Then Drew turned.

Mary’s heartbeat stuttered.

Lady Kilbride held Drew’s arm, her fingers gripping it as he escorted her outside through the open French door, disappearing into the darkness.

Mary’s stomach froze.

She’d heard rumours of Lady Kilbride, of her unfaithfulness. Was Drew one of her consorts?

Nausea ate at Mary’s empty stomach.

Were her parents, and John, right?

She did not dance the next set, claiming her slippers rubbed. Daniel stood out with her while Bethany danced and shy Emily sat with them, as she was playing wallflower again.

Utterly numb, Mary fought to make conversation.

Drew returned with Lady Kilbride twenty minutes after he’d left, and Lady Kilbride clutched his handkerchief in her fingers.

Mary had been talking but the words slipped from her mind as tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, the void of pain inside her filling with anger.

“Mary, what is it?” Daniel looked over his shoulder, following her gaze.

But Drew was already hidden by the dancers.

Would he do that? Would he make love to her yesterday afternoon and this woman now?

I was warned.

Daniel looked back to her.

“Mary, what is it?” Emily queried her silence.

“Nothing is wrong, sorry I lost my thread.”

The set ended,
thank God,
and their friends returned before either Daniel or Emily could pursue their questions.

Mary turned away, speaking to someone else as she looked for Drew again.

He’d returned to his friends and stood with Lord Brooke. Lady Kilbride had walked away.

As Lord Brooke spoke Drew’s gaze caught hers, reaching across the room, hard and fixed. A bitter smile twisted his lips.

He knew she’d seen him, Lord Brooke must have seen her watching.

I will not be his puppet.

“Emily.” Mary turned back to her friend.

Emily was uncertain of her place in society and she hated to offend, she made a good confident. Mary caught her elbow and whispered. “There is someone I wish to talk to, a group of gentlemen I met the other night. Mama will skin me alive if she thought I was being so forward, but you will keep me company won’t you? There is safety in numbers after all. There will be no harm in me speaking to them if you come with me. I’m sure your Papa will thank me for introducing you to Lord Framlington and Lord Brooke.”

Emily’s naivety and newness to their group meant she would not know Drew and Lord Brooke were to be avoided.

Emily nodded, conceding rather than actively agreeing.

Mary added another sin and another lie to her list, threaded her arm through Emily’s and drew her across the room.

Lord Brooke noticed Mary approaching before she reached them and turned to Drew.

“You had better look sharp. You are about to become the victim of your fiancée’s wrath. The lady bears daggers in her eyes.” Peter smiled, then laughed.

Drew’s friends had joined him tonight not at his asking but of their choosing, insisting he should be given the opportunity to converse with his future wife.

Really they’d come to watch Drew demean himself before her and act the lover. To laugh at him.

Of course he had not told them, his affection, to whatever degree, was genuine. That was for Mary to know and no one else. He would not make himself vulnerable and declare his affections to the damned world.

But his friends’ presence was welcome, especially as Peter had been able to warn Drew that Mary had seen him leave with Caro. Mary had clearly misunderstood.

Drew turned as she approached. The pale blue satin she wore enhanced her eyes and made her hair and eyelashes look even darker, while the skin above her neckline and the pearls about her neck, made his fingers itch to touch her.

His gaze met hers.

Peter was right, a thunderstorm raged in her eyes. She probably didn’t even know Caro was his sister, only a few people knew of their relationship. His family never acknowledged either of them in public.

Kilbride had been up to his vicious games again and Caro had needed a shoulder to weep on. The poor girl had been desperate.

Ever since childhood they’d turned to each other and neither of them spoke to any other members of their family.

He’d promised to intervene in her marriage a dozen times but she was too afraid of Kilbride. But soon he would have the money to both get her away from Kilbride and hide her, and then he intended to be very insistent.

Drew held Mary’s gaze as she walked the final steps, laughter tight in his throat. He smiled.

Her family be damned. The girl had courage, to come across the room and tackle him.

He liked it.

But the poor little mouse of a woman on her arm…

“Lord Framlington.” Mary dropped a shallow insulting curtsy, her friend lowered much further. Then Mary turned to Peter and dropped deeper too, saying. “Lord Brooke.”

Bless the girl, she was mocking him before his friends. The little firebrand.

His future wife had a spirit beyond his hopes.

She acknowledged Mark and Harry too, then introduced the mouse she’d used as her cover. “May I introduce Miss Emily Smithfield.”

It was like tossing a lamb into a dog pit. The poor child curtsied again. She was no match to Mary’s magnificent beauty, but she was pretty, with brown hair and brown eyes. She would be of interest to his non-fussy friends.

“Lord Framlington.” Mary ruthlessly dragged his attention back to her.

His smile broadened as he contemplated fighting over who wore the trousers in his wedded bliss.

“Miss Marlow.” He bowed as insultingly as she’d curtsied to him.

She opened her mouth to speak—

“Before you begin, Lady Kilbride is my younger sister.” He kept his pitch cold, for the benefit of his friends’ ears.

The storm in her eyes blew out instantly.

He laughed.

“Your sister?”

“Yes, my dear, my sister. You may wish to rescue your friend. It is rather rash of you to throw her to the wolves, Mary.”

She glanced at Miss Smithfield, then back to him. Then she stuttered. “Forgive me, I’m sorry, I…”

His smile lifted. “I am not sorry. Your jealously heartens me. It bodes well for our future, darling – that you care so much.” A rakish pitch rang in his voice, but he cursed internally when he saw her eyes cloud with uncertainty – yet his friends were in earshot.

She blushed and his fingers itched to stroke a curl back from her brow to reassure her – but he could not touch her here.

The first notes of a waltz began. Peter asked Miss Smithfield to the floor. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance.

Drew looked at Mary, longing to ask, he thrived on risk but he’d be a fool to take such a step now. His gaze lifted to catch her father’s glare; it stretched across the room.

Exactly why he should not take the risk. Her father had seen them.

Drew looked back at her and said quietly to avoid Mark and Harry hearing. “Your father is watching, you had better go, but tell me one thing first. Are your family busy any days in the next week or so?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Not that I know.”

Drew caught Harry glancing at him, but continued. “I think it best if we leave after breakfast so we can travel during the day. Contact me when you know your absence will go unnoticed from morning until at least the dinner hour?”

She bit her lip and nodded, her gaze searching his expression, looking for proof of his loyalty.

A part of her still urged her to be cautious then.

His fingers lifted and touched the bare skin above her long evening gloves, his action hidden by her body so her father could not see.

She shivered.

“You may trust me. I love you.” He was desperate for her to believe him, even though he did not believe himself…
Who knows what love is.
But if I do not have you as my wife now, I would rather not live…

She nodded. “I’m sorry, I mis—”

“It does not matter.” The whole world misjudged him. “Things will be good between us. I promise…” It would be true.

Mark moved closer. Drew threw a look at him to say stay away.

“I will organise something,” she answered.

Drew nodded. “When you have a date, I’ll send you the arrangements. But let’s not wait too long, sweetheart… I want to be with you.” The last he said in a hoarse whisper.

A shallow smile touched her lips. “Yes.”

The look in her eyes said she would kiss him if she could.

Glancing past her shoulder Drew saw her father striding towards them. “Your Papa is coming, darling.”

She did not look back nor turn away, as if she was reluctant to leave him.

Something clenched hard in his chest. “Go, sweetheart; write soon and set a date; then no one can separate us.”

“Goodbye, I love you.” she whispered as she gripped her dress. Then as the words struck his gut like a punch, she span away sharply as if she’d been insulted and had just given him a scalding.

The words sank into his soul and pride bloomed – good God, someone loved him. Someone who understood those words to their full depth. Lord, he adored her strength and resourcefulness.

He smiled, his gaze following her movement, then he met her father’s glare.

The man could fume all he wished, he’d lost, wherever they hid Mary now Drew could reach her.

Her father turned to follow Mary back; to guard her and his wife.

The man could hardly judge. Marlow was a second son who’d married money. He’d taken the daughter of a duke.

Drew laughed.

Mary’s mother was no better, she’d eloped, but not with Marlow, with Pembroke’s father, Captain Harding. Harding had been another lower son. The old Duke had cut her off then. How she’d come back into her wealth after her first husband’s death, and married Marlow no one knew. But neither of them had a right to judge him and he would take the greatest pleasure in giving her family’s arrogance a hard kick.

“I am wondering who has seduced who.” Harry leaned to Drew. “Are you smitten?”

Drew turned. “I have to look smitten; the girl wants a love match. Was that not the whole point of our letter writing? I need to convince her I am affected or she will not have me.” Harry’s needling cut. What Drew felt, or did not feel, was his own business, he did not like people knowing who he was beneath the rogue’s façade. Beneath the rogue’s façade was the boy who’d only known rejection as a child, and had become a toy and a thing to be hated.