Page 10 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘Didn’t Pembroke warn his little sister off you?’ Harry persisted.
‘He has warned her off every man with a speck of dust in his closet.’ Peter Brooke, Drew’s closest friend, smiled.
‘As if Pembroke can judge,’ Harry pressed. ‘That man is no saint, he is not spotless himself.’
‘But reformed,’ Drew answered. He un-looped his arm from the chair, leaned forward and set his card on the table, then looked at his friends, a wry smile twisting his lips. ‘Maybe the woman has a little contrary in her soul, though. Ever since he warned her off she has been watching me. Perhaps she just has a taste for risk or badness hidden beneath her cold denials. Or likes being naughty. Any of which appeal, they are all to my advantage.’
The group laughed.
Peter leaned forward and lay down his card. ‘Well, I would not cross Pembroke, or any of her family for that matter, they are too influential. Her father may be a second son but she calls a quarter of the House of Lords Uncle.’
Drew did not need reminding. Yet he intended winning her. He had waited a year, and given himself the time to be sure. He was sure. She had come back to town this season and her eyes had still searched for him across the ballrooms, and the first time he’d seen her again he’d felt slain. The girl was beautiful, rich, innocent and his best hope of constancy – and ever since the night he had danced with her, his thoughts were drawn to her. It was a physical feeling too, not simply a mental choice. She had lived with him for a year, in his waking and sleeping dreams.
But as certain as he was of his choice he was equally certain her family would not allow it. They would say no if he asked for her.Hiscontrary streak itched. He did not like being told no. No was temptation. Like the girl running, it only made him want to chase. But he did not think she would run, not now – unless it was towards him. He smiled at his silent humour.
‘You are going to marry her then?’ Mark clarified.
‘I’ve no choice. The duns are on my tail. I need to marry money. She’s interested, available, and she has a fortune. Plus, she is remarkably pleasant to the eye.’
‘Pleasant…’ A sarcastic smile twisted Harry’s lips. ‘That is lacklustre. The girl’s the darling of society. Stunning. I would have a go at her if I thought I stood a chance, but she’ll not look twice at me. You, however…’
‘You have the looks and the knack, Drew,’ Peter expounded. ‘While we are left to petty jealousy.’
Drew laughed. ‘I have not won her yet, and you are as capable.’
‘We all know you will win her. I would not even waste a wager on it,’ Mark said.
‘The question is, what will you do with her when you have her?’ Harry grinned. ‘What on earth will you do with a wife?’
Drew looked past his friends at his small living quarters.
His rooms in the Albany were a decent enough bachelor’s residence, but he would need something more once he’d wed. He longed for a property of his own outside of London. It would need to be a place large enough to lose a woman in. In the last year, when he’d thought of marrying Miss Marlow he had never considered the detail beyond the wedding night and receiving the cheque. Nevertheless, once he’d wed, he’d have her dowry and he could buy whatever property he wanted, perhaps something with land, to make a profit from. She would understand that life and fill her time without his assistance.
His debts had swelled in the last year. Barely anyone allowed him credit now, and so he’d become increasingly reliant on Peter’s kindness. It unmanned him. But he refused to return to earning his living through sex.
But how the hell would he support a wife? The dowry would not last, and he had not one daisy petal of an idea how to manage land.
All the couples he knew spent their time cuckolding each other.
But that was why he had settled on Mary; he thought she was different from those women. He was also different from those men. He’d watched her family for a year. They were all in what society deemed love matches.Love!In his experience that word was false. A non-entity. People did not love. They used the word to wound and hurt.
His mother declared she loved the Marquis but cuckolded him constantly with younger men. While on the occasions the Marquis came to town he spent his hours with courtesans.
He had learned about their behaviour at fifteen, when one of his mother’s friends had initiated him into their world of fornication. Ten years on and society had not changed. But he had changed.
‘Drew, I am sure you’ll be well entertained in your bed, but you will not be saying goodbye to her come morning. I said, what will you do with her once you’re wed?’
He had no idea. Lock her away so she will not see other men. Or could he truly trust her. She was his best hope of fidelity. Though, theirs would not be a love match… He did not know how to love, he did not believe in it.
If this failed, perhaps he would follow his false father’s path and leave her to get on with it, find a country sanctuary for himself and rooms in town for her. At least he would have no debts.
Whisperings in his head said she would not be false. He hoped so hard for this… But that desire he was keeping secret from his friends. They thought him a pleasure-loving rogue with no deeper emotions.
God,how they’d laugh if they knew a man with his reputation idolised the Pembroke women for their lack of promiscuity.
He met Harry’s gaze, a self-deprecating smile twisting his lips. ‘The devil knows.’
‘Pass her on to me!’ Mark laughed. ‘I will entertain her when you are bored.’
