Page 36 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
Was she really doing this?
It appeared so.
The letter fluttered in her fingers, drying the wax as she hurried downstairs. Now she had made up her mind that this was the right thing to do, she no longer felt guilty. Her parents would learn the truth about him.
When Mary reached the hall, she avoided Finch’s unwanted questions, left the house through the servants’ stairwell and went to the stables. She found one of the boys who fed the horses and cleaned the stalls, gave him a ha’penny and sent him to deliver the letter.
Less than an hour later, the boy burst into her private sitting room with a broad grin, waving a reply in his grubby hand. ‘The gent sent this back, miss. I brought it up meself ’cause he said it was a secret between you and me. I’ve snuck through the ’ouse. No one saw me, miss.’
Mary took the letter and found out another ha’penny – the price of deceit. ‘Wait here, please.’ Breaking the seal, she turned and walked into her bedchamber, closed the door and sat on the edge of her bed.
How may I prove it to you? Tell me, and I will do it. Anything. I will climb the highest mountain for you, swim a lake or run across a continent. Only tell me and I shall prove it, Mary, darling.
Are you alone? How long for? Look from the window.
He was outside!
She went to the window.
Carriages passed at the edge of the garden in the middle of the square. People walked the pavements.
She saw him. He stood against the garden’s railing on the far side of the street from John’s house, smoking a cigar in a nonchalant blasé pose, the rim of his hat tipped forward, shadowing his eyes.
She returned to the sitting room where the stable lad waited. ‘Let the gentleman in, Tom, please. Take him to the summerhouse and tell him to wait there. But remember, this is a secret. I will reward you for your silence later. No one must see him, you understand?’
‘Yes, miss.’ The lad gave an awkward bow, tugging his forelock, then he raced out of the room.
Mary went back into her bedchamber and looked in the mirror on her dressing table. Strands of hair had fallen from the silver comb she’d styled it with. She tucked them back into place, then raced downstairs as eagerly as the stable lad.
She slowed halfway down the stairs, a dozen butterflies taking flight in her stomach as she saw Finch in the hall.
He looked up and bowed, as did the footman he was speaking with.
‘I am going to read in the summerhouse…’ she said when she stepped off the bottom stair, ‘and I may fall asleep, so please do not let anyone disturb me.’
‘Of course, Miss Marlow,’ the old bulldog answered. He was her family’s guardian, and now she was deceiving him too. Her parents would send her home to the country if they knew.
She went to the library first as she’d left her book upstairs, and picked out another without even looking at its title, then let herself out through a French door.
Heat touched her face as she crossed the lawn. She did not hurry in case Finch was watching from the house.
The summerhouse was at the end of the garden, tucked away among tall shrubs. No one could see it from the house and no one could see anyone approaching it from the stables.
The path passed through a row of archways that were covered with gloriously scented flowering wisteria.
When she reached the summerhouse, he stood at the far end of the narrow wooden veranda, with his back to her. He had removed his hat and ruffled his hair.
‘This is very bad of you,’ she stated as she climbed the steps of the veranda. She did not walk to him, she stopped and leaned against the post at the opposite end to where he stood, holding the book in both hands in front of her.
He turned and faced her, a broad smile parting his lips. ‘But exhilarating,’ he answered. ‘What will you do if we are caught? Think of the repercussions.’
He was teasing her; laughter danced in his eyes. She had not seen him in daylight since the morning they rode together. She had forgotten how the sunlight gilded his eyes, turning the hazel gold.
He walked towards her, pulling off his gloves. ‘How long do we have?’
‘An hour, perhaps more.’
‘A whole hour to ourselves…’ He threw his gloves aside. They landed beside his hat on a low table. He took the book from her hands and put that down with them.
