Page 32 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘Did you receive my letter?’ he whispered to her ear.
‘Yes.’
‘Will you write to me?’
There was no time to answer. They were parted by the figures of the dance.
She faced his friend, her heart pounding as she attempted to watch Drew from the corner of her eye.
The rest of the dance seemed endless. There were no other opportunities to speak with him as the complicated patterns moved Drew further and further away.
* * *
During supper, Drew stood apart from everyone, hands in pockets, as he watched others eating. Miss Marlow was in the bosom of her family, surrounded, laughing and happy. Happy? Now there was another word likelove. Had he ever known what it was to be happy? How the hell did he know who was happy?
He laughed last night, though, laughed and got very drunk. He’d tracked his friends down in a gambling den not far from St James and dragged them from their game, and Peter and Harry from the whores who had draped themselves across the men’s laps. They spent the rest of the night at his bachelor residence. He had explained his plight and asked them how he was going to convince the girl to love him. How did a man use romance and not sex to court a woman?
Harry had laughed heartily.
Drew could see the humour in the situation: the renowned seducer smote by a lack of love.
His friends then spent the following three hours in drunken amusement, advising him on the subtleties of love, and its difference from desire.
The letter was Peter’s idea. He’d leaned back in his chair, lifting his glass of brandy and grinning. ‘What you need, my friend, is a bloody good poet. Prose is your key. All women fall for it. They like to be told their eyes are like this, their lips like that, they love to have their beauty praised.’
Between them then, and between bouts of laughter, they’d constructed the basics of the letter. The prose had been mostly Peter’s. This morning Drew rewrote it with a sober hand and sent if off.
Having played a part in his courtship, his friends had insisted on attending the next ball. They were eager to help. They’d considered it brilliant luck that Mark knew the Harding twins, Pembroke’s cousins, and then another plot had been spun, to gain Drew access to Mary in the ballroom.
The Hardings were not as high in the instep as the Pembrokes. Lord Oliver had not even lifted an eyebrow at Mark’s request.
The plan was, once Mark had the introduction, he would introduce the others and then they’d all dance with her, and if Drew merely passed her during the country dances, her family would not suspect any intent. But the reality proved frustrating. There was not enough time to speak to her.
She had said she received the letter and when he asked if she would write, there was no chance for her to answer. Beyond that he’d resorted to brushing her shoulder with his fingertips once. It was hardly enough to win him a wife. He was not going to be able to convince her to marry him like this.
He turned on his heel and walked from the supper room. He needed to think, he needed to settle his mind. Then he realised, suddenly, in a blinding thought, he had asked her to write, but she did not know his address. He could not write his address in a letter her parents might see.
Changing direction, he searched out a footman in the hall. ‘May I have a quill, ink and paper brought to the gentlemen’s smoking room.’
After the supper, he let her dance with her friends for the first and second dances, then asked Peter to lead her out.
The dance was a pattern of four. Drew picked a quiet little wallflower of a woman to partner him.
Two movements into the dance he and Peter swapped partners. It was not a requirement of the dance. He’d agreed the move with Peter to gain longer access to Mary.
Of course, Mary realised instantly what they were doing and her jaw dropped on the verge of exclamation, but he caught her fingers in his as part of a turn and squeezed them hard. It effectively silenced her. The little wallflower seemed to think they’d made a mistake. She smiled at Peter as though she thought him foolish, but then knowing Peter, he was probably charming the girl and making her think he was the one who had planned the swap.
‘Why are you playing this game?’ Mary whispered harshly.
He bent his head and although he felt like being harsh in return, he softened his voice to honey. Some aspects of seduction may still be useful when making a girl fall in love… he needed to convince her he might suffer the same condition. ‘My dear, it is no game. I told you, I want you for my wife. I am not backing down. Steadfastness is surely evidence of a heart’s devotion.’
* * *
Drew was arrogant tonight. He did not like losing. She had enough brothers and male relations to know how stubborn men could be in competitions.
‘It is not a statement of love to want to win at any cost. I do not like being manipulated by you and your friends. You are determined, I give you that. But devoted…’ She made a scoffing sound. ‘I am sure you are devoted to my dowry.’
‘You are on your guard, Mary, darling. It is you I am devoted to, and how many times must I say I will not hurt you?’
