Page 72 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘Do not be long,’ Marlow ordered, then he and Pembroke left the room.
Drew walked across and locked the door behind them. When he turned Mary was sliding her dress over her head, not bothering with her short corset. Presumably because she did not want him to lace it.
He wanted to say something to make her feel as she had before her family arrived. Yet what could he say? He was not sorry for anything he had done. He loved her. And this was the only way her father would agree a marriage. At least, no matter what happened now, he would have her money. His heart may be as wounded as his ribs, but his purse would be full.I am not sorry.Everything he told her was true.
What of her? Did she not love him now? Was love that fleeting? Perhaps it was for him; because of who he was.
She turned her back, showing him the buttons that needed to be secured. He sighed and went to her. She stood stiffly as his fingers worked. Last night her body had been pliant like soft clay to be moulded into a beautiful sculpture.
When all the buttons were secure, he went to the washbowl to pack away his razor and brush. He watched in the mirror as Mary pulled on her stockings. She did not look at him.
24
Mary’s fingers shook as she packed everything back into her travelling bag. Her tears had dried but she felt morose. As empty as a conker husk.
Was everything he had said a lie?
He’d admitted to propositioning Kate… John had not told her about that. She should have asked Andrew how many women he had been intimate with.
The room was warm but her skin felt icy cold. They’d not eaten this morning, but she could not eat now if she tried, and a headache was brewing behind her left temple.
Drew stood by the window, looking down at the stable yard, waiting for her to be ready. Appearing as impenetrable as stone.
Last night, he said,‘I love you’numerous times. But words were easily said.
He turned and looked at her.
John is right. I have been fooled.
Within half an hour, she sat in a hired carriage opposite her father. He had only spoken in growls as he directed their departure.
John was not with them, he had taken a horse and ridden on ahead of them.
Andrew sat beside her, his shoulders resting back against the squabs and his arms crossed over his chest, while one of his booted feet rested on the opposite seat. His hat was tilted forward so the rim covered his eyes, and he stared through the window.
She looked through the window at the passing fields. How long would it take to get back to London? How long before this agony was over?
But then she would have to face Mama.
Suddenly, she’d had enough of the judgement that screamed from her father’s silence. She faced him across the narrow carriage. ‘Do you not love me, Papa? Is there only hate now?’ It was a childish question, but she did not care, she could not bear his silence.
His gaze met hers, the slate blue depths unusually unreadable. ‘I could not hate you, Mary, never that.’ He leaned forward and gently squeezed one hand that lay in her lap. ‘I will always love you, but, at this moment, I am furious with you.’ He released her hand and sat back. ‘And I am in no mood to talk.’ A muscle flickered at the back of his jaw as he stared at Andrew who ignored them.
She could feel Andrew’s body bristling with irritation, and his posture said he was in a sulk.
She sighed, folded her arms across her chest and looked through the window. She was angry too, and hurt, and confused.
25
They had been travelling for a day and night, breaking only to change horses. She had slept intermittently in the carriage, as had Andrew. She did not think her father slept.
She wanted to talk to Andrew but not in front of her father.
She wanted to say,do you really love me?And if his answer was yes,why did you not tell my father?And she wanted to ask,why did you say that to Kate?
When London’s skyline came into view relief flooded her.
Her father sat up straighter. ‘I shall take you to John’s. You may wait there with your mother while Lord Framlington and I obtain a licence.’
