Page 3 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘My Lord, you may speak as though you know me, but you do not.’ Her voice had become firmer, her movements stiffer.
Beyond those dancing Drew saw her father deep in conversation with her brother. The Duke must have recently arrived.Damn it, there was probably only a dozen steps left of this dance.
They glanced across the room.
Drew looked at Miss Marlow, his time with the beauty was coming to an end. ‘I am the son of a Marquis…’ In theory, and yet if he was to sell himself he must sell his best side. ‘You may hear bad things of me but disregard them. Please, judge me by the man you see. Admittedly I am not like the young men I see you dancing with?—’
‘You have been watching me.’ Her annoyance turned to horror, and before the dance had even ended she took a step back.
‘As I said, I admire you. Why would I not watch you? You are a beauty.’
He would guess when she looked about this room, she saw only the shimmer of the candlelight in the glass drops of the chandeliers, the flower garlands, the beautiful clothes and people’s smiles. Like looking at that damned wooden pillar – unless you touched it to know it wasn’t cold like stone, or tapped it, you would never know the lie hidden beneath the paint.
If he married her, he might lock her up to protect her innocence, so she would never have to see the ugly truth.
The music ceased. She lowered in a curtsy, pretending she had not backed away from him.
Half the room would be secretly laughing as they watched his game play, thinking,poor woman, God help her if Lord Framlington is chasing her. He did not wish her thought a fool. She was no fool.
As she rose, her eyes seemed to observe things about him. He was not sure what she saw, yet, he had asked her to do this, to judge him as the man she saw.
‘Thank you for your honesty.’
The words thumped him firmly in the chest. She’d taken him at his word. Not by the history that had been woven into a web that trapped him.Rogue. Rake. Bastard. Unwanted son. Unwanted entirely.
‘Good evening.’ She turned and walked away. Her absence made him feel like something had been snatched away from him.
Drew watched her cross the floor and join her family. Her father leaned to her ear and spoke hurriedly. She glanced back. Drew smiled. She smiled too, but it quivered with uncertainty. She knew the rumours now. Her father had instructed her:do not dance with that rogue.
Damn the man and damn all these people that looked down on him.
Drew turned away, to return to his friends, to return to his life, but he had a plan, and his plan now had a definite goal. Miss Mary Marlow. Winning the girl would be a challenge, there was no denying that, but he loved a challenge.
‘Drew.’ A hand touched his arm and stopped him. ‘Come to my room tonight.’
As he faced Lady Worton, her hand moved from his arm to his crotch and caressed him through the fabric of his pantaloons.
He had just bathed in innocence and now he was soiled with sin again.
He’d lied when he’d said he was entirely unwanted – women of his mother’s ilk desired his presence, but only in their beds.
He removed Lady Worton’s hand. ‘I am not inclined tonight, Bets. Find another toy.’
He did not wait for her reply. He was so damned bored of his life. He had been born into it like a whore into a brothel. He had not chosen this life; it had chosen him. For years he had enjoyed the sex, the money and gifts the women gave him. But now he wanted choice, and the only way to achieve it was to marry money.
‘Drew!’ Another of his friends, Peter, caught his attention, lifting a hand.
‘Peter. You’re late. Where were you?’
‘I, my friend, have been…’
Drew listened to Peter recounting the experiences of his evening, as he faced the room, looking past Peter’s shoulder. Miss Marlow was not dancing. She stood with her father, brother and a woman he did not recognise. It looked as though Mary was receiving at worst a scolding, at best a warning.
Drew looked at Peter. ‘Who is that with Pembroke?’
The Pembroke women, including Miss Marlow, were all dark-haired, it was one of the strongest characteristics of their beauty; jet-black hair, pale skin and pale blue eyes, but this woman was blonde.
‘Pembroke’s wife.’
