Page 108 of The Lady Needs a Rogue
“You would be lying if you said those contracts didn’t matter. I can only imagine how lucrative the deal must be for your family’s business.” She snapped off another withered bud. “As for our arrangement, you’ve certainly fulfilled your part.” She moved to the doors. “I will leave for Athens in a fortnight. Until then, I need to clear my head. I’d prefer that we stay apart.”
Finn came after her, but he did not reach for her. Did not touch her. Did not kiss her. Rather, he stood very still, as if stunned by what had gone between them.
“Regardless of what happens between us, ye should not go to Greece. Not now. Not with that arrogant bag of wind.”
“Arrogant, is he? My, isn’t that ironic, coming from Phineas Caldwell.” She squared her shoulders and hiked her chin. “I see no reason not to seize this opportunity. Why, even Jon did not voice an objection. I will have a companion, after all. There will no question of harm to my preciousgood name.”
“Ye’re not a naïve lass. The man might respect yer talent. But ye should not trust his motives.”
Ah, the gall of this man.
“I am growing weary of men telling me what I am and am not allowed to do.” A defiance filled her, and she hiked her chin. “At the end of my life, I do not wish to regret missed opportunities.”
“Macie, listen to me.” He spoke the words in a raw voice.
She gulped against another surge of emotion. “I think you should leave now.”
“As ye wish.” He’d made his way from the terrace into the sitting room when he turned back. “This isn’t about us, Macie. Do not underestimate that man. He’s not a noble fop ye can easily best.”
She hiked her brows, throwing him a glare. “And what would make you think I would want tobesthim?”
“Macie, that’s the game ye’ve learned to play.”
Chapter Thirty-One
In the weeksince Finn walked away from the garden and out of her life, Macie had tended her roses, photographed the interior of a grand old hotel reputed to host the ghost of a bride who’d met a tragic fate on her wedding night, and planned an exhibit of her Bennington Manor photography. Mrs. Johnstone had insisted that they continue her instruction in defensive maneuvers, and the two of them had catalogued the contents of her grandfather’s safe. Whenever she’d had the opportunity, Macie had plastered a smile on her face, lest anyone think she missed Finn playing the ever-devoted bodyguard. She’d gallivanted about the city without him looking over her shoulder, and she hadn’t even encountered another dead man. That, at least, was something to be pleased about. Wasn’t it?
Pity her smile was as genuine as the cheap plaster replica of the Venus de Milo her brother had given her as a gift when he was a lad.
The whirl of activity kept her busy and focused on something—anything—other than the sly grin of the man she so desperately missed. Only in the evenings after Nell and Mrs. Tuttle had headed off to bed, and she was alone with Cleo purring at her side, did she allow herself to admit that the dull ache in her chest was very real. And it wasn’t going away. Of course, it was too soon to think she’d be over him. If only the pain was not intensifying with each lonely night.
On the afternoon of the eighth day after she’d watched Finn walk away—how absurd that she could give an exact count of the days—Macie settled into a chair in the garden, allowing herself an hour or so away from the hustle-bustle to relax with the gothic novel she’d been itching to devour. With book in hand and a snoring cat at her feet, she began to read. Before long, she caught herself staring at the page without really taking in the words. In those tales, the heroine was always so vulnerable, so very much at the mercy of the men in her life, whether they were villains or heroes. Very muchunlikeherself. No one could say that Mary Catherine Mason was at the mercy of any man, now could they?
If only her own heart would agree.
Nell strolled through the French doors, a silver tray in hand. “I thought you might enjoy a cup of Earl Grey.”
“Thank you,” Macie said, setting her book aside. She’d lost interest in the story rather quickly, hadn’t she?
“I do wish you would have joined me at the ladies’ lending library this morning. Amelia served a delightful brunch, and Mrs. Johnstone and I enjoyed the most stimulating discussion. She is truly brilliant.”
“Indeed.” Macie accepted the cup from Nell’s hand and took a sip. “Did she tell you about our discoveries in Grandpapa’s vault?”
Nell shook her head. “Most of our discussion centered on books and Amelia’s plans to expand her library.”
“Pity I missed it. I shall definitely pay a visit before I leave on my journey.”
Nell seemed to hesitate. “Macie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the trip.”
“It would be marvelous if you wished to accompany me. As you know, I’m meeting with Professor Aylesworth this afternoon. There’s still time for you to join us.”
“It’s not that.” Nell perched upon a wing chair, teacup in hand. “I’m not sure this is the best choice for you, Macie.”
“How could you possibly doubt it?” Macie said. “Professor Aylesworth is a brilliant voice in his field. And above all, my grandfather trusted him, which speaks well for his character.”
Nell’s brow furrowed. “But I do think there might be a good reason for you to stay.”
Macie blinked. “In London?”
