Page 39 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

She did not wish to give him up.

“This poor woman is suffering. You will be able to return to London soon with your head held high. She will never be able to do the same.”

“Damn right,” Kingsley bit out.

“You do wish me gone then.” His words sounded hollow to her ears.

“Not by choice,” she managed to say through her tight throat.

Adam offered a grin that did not reach his eyes. “You wish me to do the right thing for once in my life.” He shrugged. “But of course.”

“You have always done right by me, Adam.” She closed the gap between them. “But you would not be the man I think you are if you did not fix this.”

He put a finger and thumb to her chin and lifted her face to meet her gaze. “What a wretched time to gain a conscience. Just when I have you in my grasp.”

Rosie lifted a shoulder, though the movement felt as though she were lifting a ton of rock upon her body. If she waited much longer, they would crush her under the pain of knowing Adam must go. He must go and do the only thing an honorable man could do in such a situation.

He would wed this Miss Kingsley and save her from a life of shame.

Chapter Fourteen

“The new ale seems to be going down well.” Harriet gave Rosie a nudge with her elbow, drawing her attention from the stain on the table to the busy taproom.

Rosie offered a tight smile and nodded. “Indeed.”

The arrangement with Adam’s friend was going well, with patrons enjoying the ale, and the development of the brewery slowly coming together. It meant more work for her but she hardly minded—at least it gave her a chance to forget how long it had been since she’d seen Adam.

And yet there had been no word of his marriage yet. She could not stop herself from scanning the newspapers for the announcement. Surely it would have been done by special license by now?

Of course, his brothers had come by once or twice and she could have asked them but the silly, cowardly part of herself could not bear to stand in front of them and listen to word of his wedding so she remained hidden in the back.

“That stain has been there for two years, Rosie. I do not think it is going to come out.”

Rosie straightened and stuffed the cloth into the waist of her apron. Harriet was right and no matter how much she wished such a tedious act would distract her from her melancholy, it would not. She snatched up an empty ale jug from the bar. Perhaps if she—

“I’m looking for the Beauty of Buttermere.”

But of course. Her reputation had not waned as yet and she was trying to be grateful for the continued patronage of curious travelers. Rosie forced a smile upon her face and turned. The jug slipped from her fingers and landed with a clunk against the wooden floorboards, scarcely avoiding the gentleman’s boots.

Adam bent slowly, his lips tugged into a bemused smile, and retrieved the undamaged jug then handed it over. “There’s no need to throw things at me.”

She snatched it back and hugged the jug to her chest. Two months and he’d possibly grown more attractive. Maybe marriage was good for him. His clothes were impeccable, his boots shining even in the dull light of the taproom. Though his hair was slightly mussed from where he’d removed his hat, it only drew attention to his jawline and the crooked smile that made her heart give a little jolt.

“You look hale,” she managed to murmur through a tight throat.

Two months and she had been hoping for this moment every single day. Hoping and dreading. Because once she knew he was wed, she would be able to forget him. Yet a large part of her knew she never would. Running the inn no longer held the satisfaction it once did—not without him at her side. She resisted the desire to laugh out loud at herself. How silly she sounded, imagining a nobleman would wish to work at her inn for the rest of his days. Even if he had not wed this Miss Kingsley, his old life would have called him back eventually. Now she had the time and distance from their situation, she realized that.

“As do you, Rosie,” he replied languidly, propping one elbow on the bar.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to see you.”

“And is your...” She swallowed. “Your wife at your brother’s home?”

“My wife?” He straightened.

“Miss Kingsley?”

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