Page 1 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
1
It was a renowned truth that any world-worn rogue, without a feather to fly with, must be on the hunt for a wife, or rather her dowry. As the parody of Miss Austen’s verse, from her charming little novel about country life, ran through Drew’s head, a sound of mocking humour rumbled through his chest and he leaned a shoulder against the false pillar in the Earl of Derwent’s ballroom, watching town life.
The pillar was wooden, painted to look like marble. Like everyone in this damned room, it was a farce. A shallow image. A performance… Nothing here was what it seemed. Society lived a damned lie and he had lived it for a lifetime.
He was a bastard. Sold by his mother to her husband as worth the risk of giving her naturally born son his family’s name. They had to save the reputation of the Framlington title after all.
Damn the title… Damn the bloody name…Drew had no interest in either.
He was bored of this. Bored of pretence. Bored of the games these people and he played. Bored of the face he displayed to the world.
He had a plan to escape it all. Of course plans required money. But his plan covered that. He was seeking a well-dowered young woman to take as his wife and earn himself an instant fortune. A fortune which he would use to pack up his bags and retire to a quiet life, away from town, away from all this deception… Perhaps then he would experience the kind of life Miss Austen wrote about.
‘Have you seen Marlow’s daughter?’ Mark leaned to Drew’s ear. ‘She would be a prize.’
Drew looked at his friend and lifted his shoulder away from the pillar, straightening up. ‘I have.’
‘She looks remarkable.’
‘She does indeed.’ He had been watching her. She was on his list of potential wives.
‘Are you intending to try for her?’
‘I would be a fool if I did not. Look at her…’ The she in question, Miss Mary Marlow, was as far out of reach as the sun. The half-sister of a Duke… with a bastard? It was not a match that would be desired by her mama and papa. Yet, Miss Marlow was very appealing to the eye.
Drew had been waiting for the moment to explore his opportunity with her. The time had come. He had not been standing here for his pleasure. He’d been standing here waiting for Miss Marlow to complete her dance.
‘Then what are you waiting on?’ Mark laughed, spotting the same opportunity.
‘Not a thing.’ Drew glanced over his shoulder and gave his friend a wicked smile before walking away, taking a route about the edge of the ballroom.
He positioned himself close to the set Miss Marlow was in as the dance drew to its conclusion. When it ended, she stood three feet away, with her back to him. Even though he could not see her face or her smile, he could feel her exuberance; he knew she was smiling. She’d smiled throughout every dance tonight.
Mary Marlow was in her first season, newly launched upon the marriage market, and he was here to trade. But what his friends did not know was that as much as he desired her money, he desired her innocence. His heart and mind were jaded and bitter. The idea of marrying a pure, good woman, was refreshing, invigorating. God knew, he had never been given the blessing of innocence in his life. He was born into the world of sin. Born of sin and raised in sin.
Miss Marlow’s partner lifted her hand to his lips, kissed the back of her satin glove and bowed.
Drew stepped forward. ‘Miss Marlow.’ He said her name as though they’d been introduced and he had a right to use it, speaking before the man had a chance to offer to lead her back to her mother. They had never been introduced.
She looked at him, her expression confused, but then she smiled, and it was as though the sun rose in the room which was already illuminated by several hundred candles in the chandeliers.
Her smile said,I am not sure I know you.Yet a young woman like her would never be rude enough to say such a thing aloud in company.
When her companion let her go, Drew captured her hand, as if he had a right to that too. He felt as though he did. She had become his favourite choice of bride the minute she’d smiled. ‘May I have the next dance?’ He bowed, but not wanting to push things too far, he refrained from kissing her hand. Though, his gloved fingers did reach towards the underside of her wrist and touched her skin above the hem of her glove, making the gesture appear accidental.
She lowered into a sweet, perfectly correct curtsy, looking down until the moment before she rose.
Beautiful.
Her eyes were an unusual blue, an extremely pale rim of colour surrounding the dark pupils that looked at him questioningly.Who are you?She knew she had never met him before. But too polite for her own good, she continued to pretend they had been introduced.
If he could have picked a dance for them it would have been the waltz, but the first waltz was not until later and he had no wish to lose the chance of the distance from her family. The Pembrokes were at the far end of the ballroom, in their usual pack. Although Pembroke was not the name the family went by as a whole, the old Duke had had four girls. They had married exceptionally well, apart from Mary’s mother, whose first husband, a soldier, had died. She then settled on the second son of an Earl. But the son from her first marriage had inherited the title and given Miss Marlow a very attractive dowry, and so Mary was simply a Miss and yet a powerful match as a Duke’s sister, and a closely guarded and very well-bred innocent.
‘I believe you should stand here, and I there,’ Drew said to her look of confusion.
There was another quick smile, which was far more fleeting than the first. Perhaps she was beginning to realise she had made an error. He smiled broadly to ease her concern. ‘I shall admit we have not been introduced. You must forgive me for taking the liberty of breaking the rules, Miss Marlow.’ The music commenced.
He stepped forward and took her hand in the format of the dance, then completed a shoulder to shoulder turn.
