Page 73 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘I’m not a child, Papa, you do not need to tell me to stay with Mama.’
A note of humour rumbled from Andrew’s chest, then his hand reached to his side and he coughed as his foot lifted off the seat and moved to the floor. He straightened his hat.
Mary ignored him.
‘I wish I had told you to stay with your mother these past weeks,’ her father said.
Mary watched through the window as the carriage driver negotiated London’s busy streets, an odd feeling in her stomach. Everything was the same yet different. The carriage halted outside John’s house –it is the same house, in the same street, but I am different; I love a man, and soon this will no longer be my home.
A footman opened the carriage door and dropped the step. Mary did not wait on the men to help her but stood, took the footman’s hand and climbed out. Her father descended in her wake and Andrew followed. Mary’s gaze caught Andrew’s. A shallow smile raised his lips and he winked, displaying his rogue’s, devil-may-care, armour.
She climbed the stairs to John’s front door. Andrew caught up with her, and his hand grabbed hers. ‘At least pretend you are happy to have me,’ he said to her ear.
Mary stiffened her spine and ignored his churlish stab.
Her father looked at them, but she did not think he had heard, certainly Andrew had not intended him to.
John and her mother met them in the hall. He did not smile and her mother’s eyes were red-rimmed from hours of tears.
Mary’s hand slipped free from Drew’s and she walked to her mother. ‘I am sorry, Mama.’ Her arms lifted to embrace her. ‘I did not mean to?—’
‘Fall in love,’ Andrew interjected from behind her in a belligerent tone.
Her mother glared past Mary, and their embrace was brief because Drew came towards them.
‘I am Lord Framlington, Lady Marlow.’ He held out his hand, in a forceful gesture. There was that look of deviltry in his eyes, and when her mother took his hand, he kissed the back of her fingers before releasing her.
Her mother stiffened. She dressed herself in solid steel when she was angry.
Andrew’s arm came about Mary’s shoulders, in a gesture that felt possessive not supportive.
Her father coughed, choking on his disapproval.
Mary silently apologised by stepping away from Andrew’s embrace.
‘Has John told you we’ve agreed to obtain a special licence?’ her father asked her mother. ‘I will take Lord Framlington now.’
‘I have spoken to a minister,’ John said. ‘He agreed to undertake the ceremony in Whitechapel. Shall I come with you?’
‘That is not necessary, he is hardly likely to run. He would not have her dowry, and that is all he wants.’ Her father spoke about Drew as though he was not there.
‘Not all…’ Andrew stated and threw her father a mocking grin.
Embarrassment warmed Mary’s skin. She didn’t likethisAndrew.
‘We’re leaving,’ her father barked. Then he stepped forward, embraced her mother and kissed her lips quickly. ‘We will be back as soon as we can.’
‘I had a coach with no insignia prepared,’ John told her father.
‘Thank you,’ her father said.
As her father walked from the hall, Andrew’s eyebrows lifted and lowered, in a sort of goodbye and he nodded towards her and her mother with a tilted smile before following her father.
‘Why?’ John asked her the moment the porter shut the door behind them. ‘I suppose he lured you with a kiss or two. What else?’
‘John.’ Her mother stopped him. ‘Mary has realised her mistake, it will do no good rubbing salt into the wound. But, Mary, why did you not speak to me? I would not have judged. I would have helped you think this through.’
Mary looked up to the beautiful paintings on the ceiling, swallowing, fighting back tears.
