Page 52 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
It felt like life was holding up a metaphorical mirror for him to see himself. He was like a buzzard. An opportunist, yes. But a man who surveyed and ruled the world about him, rather than let it rule him. Poor Mary was his carrion, the flesh he’d found on the marriage market.
He pitied her suddenly. Reality set in. No woman could be proud of him.
He would not be accepted in her world and she would be humiliated in his, left friendless and without her family.God help her.He should stop raising foolish expectations and be prepared to comfort her when her family turned their backs on her.
Yet, he would strive to make her happy out of affection and gratitude, whether he had any finer feelings of love or not – gratitude, affection and admiration must be enough.
He hoped…
15
After hours of travel, Drew stopped at an inn for luncheon and to change his winded horses for a hired pair. Mary’s bottom and back were sore and her neck stiff.
They had shared that one brief conversation and then he’d been silent again.
She’d assured him she was committing herself to him and he’d said nothing since.
The day was hot, but Mary felt cold. Her reticule dangling from her wrist, Mary crossed her arms, holding her elbows as Drew spoke to the ostler taking care of his horses.
‘Please feed them and brush them down.’ Drew handed him money. ‘There will be more if you look after them well and let no one else near them.’
The ostler lifted his cap in a salute.
Drew spoke with self-confidence and strength. She doubted anyone would dare naysay him. But she had seen a vulnerable side to him today too. His external severity seemed to protect whatever lay beneath.
An ache clutched about her heart, and her stomach teemed with butterflies. She’d thought she’d met the real man in the summerhouse. But he was not that man today and he’d been different among his friends too. There were many layers to the man she was about to marry.
Drew checked the legs of the animals he’d chosen to replace his with. He glanced at her before looking at his horses as they were led into a stable. He said something else to the groom then turned to her.
A grim look of determination set his jaw.
Did he not like leaving his horses?‘They will look after them, I am sure.’
A smile touched his lips. ‘My horses are the most expensive thing I own. I cannot leave them with any ease. I am sorry if I look troubled, I have my weaknesses, and my horses are one of them.’
He offered his arm. She held his upper arm through the cloth of his coat, rather than laying her fingers on his forearm. She had often walked with her father and John like this, it felt more intimate with Drew.
His arm lowered as they entered the inn.
‘What are the others?’ she asked.
‘Others?’
‘Weaknesses…’
‘Oh. I shall wait until we’re wed to share them. I would hate to put you off.’ He said the words with humour but she discerned that touch of vulnerability again.
A man in livery stood in the inn’s hallway which contained stacked travelling trunks. It was a posting inn.
‘A private parlour, please, for myself and my wife,’ Drew said to the man. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a card. The card gave Drew’s name, which she knew was a way men promised payment.Here is my card, I am a lord so I must have money, I just have none on me today.‘We’ll want luncheon, and I will take a tankard of ale. My wife, I assume, will want tea.’
When Drew glanced at her, Mary nodded.
Heat burned in her skin. She was not his wife yet, but he had to say so, or say he was her brother, otherwise she would be considered a whore.
He smiled, as though sensing her insecurity but the smile twisted to a roguish lilt when he looked back at the man, his expression returning to the veneer he showed everyone but her.
The man bowed, then bid them follow. He led them past a busy taproom to another door which opened into a small rectangular parlour. An armchair stood in each corner and in the middle a circular dark oak table with four chairs about it.
