Page 68 of Teach a Rogue New Tricks
“I understand you reject me. I even understand why.” Shadows that the last few days had banished from his eyes returned in full, howling, followed by a cold glint of danger.
He looked like a man used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted her.
But he couldn’t have her.
And he knew it. He said he understood why, but he couldn’t. She’d never told him. She could marry no man but for Lucas, who she refused to marry. The fact offered no death knell of hope, either, but the clear, high ring of freedom. She could not give that up for any man.
“Cass.” She reached for him. She had to make him understand she did not reject him but her old life and anything resembling it. “Cass.”
He slipped away from her and did not turn back even for a final glance.
He did not understand, and now he never would. It should not gnaw at her as it did, yet her insides felt nibbled full of holes, rat-bitten. She leaned her head against the wall for the space of one shaky breath then slipped through the hidden door into the foyer. The space loomed large and echoed empty.
He would never understand, and she did not care.
She did not care.
Chapter Eighteen
Adaeyed the shadowed wall of her aunt’s townhouse. Few footholds or handholds, and no trees to speak of would offer their limbs for her to climb up and through Cass’s bedroom window. And to think, her uncle was a landscape gardener. He should have trees aplenty, ready at a moment’s notice to facilitate a maiden’s midnight whim.
She scanned the ground. Rock free. Heavens, it would be nice if one thing could go as planned.
Yesterday evening, she’d hoped to be seduced. And she had been. But then she’d been proposed to. She’d wished to explain why marriage could never be in her future, but Cass had stalked away, taking her chance with him. She’d tried to enjoy the rest of the play, but it had been singularly awful. Naturally, sleep had eluded her, though the blessed forgetfulness of unconsciousness had been her only desire once her head hit the pillow.
Upon waking, she’d hoped to spend the day managing her rowdy siblings, but they’d gone for a walk in Hyde Park and behaved astonishingly well the entire time, offering not a single distraction for her agitated brain. Her mind had run in circles all day long, explaining to Cass why she could not marry him. In the oft-repeated imagery, Cass had run in circles with her, always five steps ahead, unable to hear her breathless explanation and unwilling to slow down.
Now, no trees to facilitate her climb and no rocks to fling at the man’s window.
Her reticule only remained. She opened it and stuck her hand inside, fumbling for something, anything. Ah, that would work. She pulled her miniature almanac, a gift from her father, from the bag, tossed it once into the air and caught it, then reared back and flung it at the second-story window, third from the right. Her maid had asked about, found out exactly which room he laid his head in, dressed in, disrobed in. My, she felt hot.
The almanac hit the glass with a splendid crack and fell back to the earth. She had never been as good a shot as her sister, but she could manage a target as large as that. She recovered the almanac and threw it again.
Crack.
Fall.
No Cass. She threw it a third time right as the window rushed open. The almanac sailed through the open window.
“Ow!” Cass stuck his head and shoulders out of the window.
She grinned to see his tousled curls and deep frown, which quickly dissolved into confusion.
“Ada? What are you doing down there?” He squinted at the tiny book in the candlelight illuminating his window. “Is this an almanac? It’s so damned tiny!”
“Let me in!”
“Pardon me?”
“Let me in!”
“So you did say that. I thought so. No.” He disappeared. The window slammed closed.
Ada’s mouth hung open. “No?” If he did not come down and there were no branches to help her climb, how would she explain? She could wait until her aunt’s house opened in the morning, sneak in, a direct attack, but she wanted him to know now, not tomorrow.
She paced back and forth close to the building, sinking as far into the shadows as she could. What could she try next? She had nothing else to pelt at the window. He’d kept her almanac, damn him.
“Where are you?” Cass’s voice hissed.
