Page 32 of The Truth about the Rogue
Shaking his head, his throat closing up at the pain in her eyes, Andrew grasped both of her hands in his and leaned closer to her, a vehemence in his chest that threatened to explode at any moment.
“I shall not have you bear any responsibility for this in any way, Miss Hawick, not for one moment. You must understand, this is entirelymydoing and whether you ought to have movedaway or not has no bearing. I cannot imagine what must have happened at that moment. You cannot blame yourself for the shock and the fright which captured you, I will not have it.” He pressed her hands. “Please. I can see that this has already caused you a great deal of pain and to have this burden upon yourself when you have no reason to carry it must only be adding to that.”
Miss Hawick sniffed lightly but kept her gaze steady, looking back at him though she remained silent. Andrew said nothing further, waiting for her to respond, waiting for her to wrestle through what it was he had said. Then, slowly, she pulled her hands out of his.
“I appreciate that you are willing to take on the sole responsibility,” she said, making to walk along the path again rather than standing opposite him. “Your concern for my welfare is surprising but appreciated.”
Andrew’s lips quirked, reminding himself that Miss Hawick was blunt in her honesty though, mayhap, he would have to become used to that.
“I did hear you when you told me that I was nothing but arrogant and selfish,” he said, as she blushed furiously, looking away. “You are not mistaken, Miss Hawick. I will, however, attempt to be more considerate of you, since we are to be husband and wife.”
Her blue eyes caught his.
“Though you still intend to return to your… appetites once we are returned from our wedding trip.”
The statement made him recoil. He did not know what to say, for part of him wanted to be very clear indeed that he would do whatever he wished, whenever he wished to do it while, yet at the very same time, the thought of the agony of such a thing would bring to her silenced him from saying those words. Instead, he took a deep breath, shrugged, and chose to say nothing, thoughhe caught the way that she slumped a little at his response before drawing herself up again.
“Oh, good afternoon! How unexpected to see you out, Lord Kentmore! I did not know that you had recovered.”
Andrew smiled briefly.
“Lord Glenfield, good afternoon. This is the first day that I have ventured out of my townhouse.”
“Recovered?” Miss Hawick glanced at Andrew and then back to Lord Glenfield. “I do not understand.”
Lord Glenfield gestured to Andrew, his smile warm.
“Lord Kentmore informed me that he was unwell. I am glad to see that it was not long-lasting.”
Miss Hawick’s lips pursed.
“I see.”
“Might I ask if you are here for a purpose?” Andrew asked quickly, attempting to change the course of the conversation. “Or have you just come to take the air?”
A broad smile crossed Lord Glenfield’s face.
“I have come to see if I might walk with Miss Lillian Hawick for a time. She informed me that she would be here this afternoon, and I saw my opportunity to further my connection.” He tipped his head, looking at Andrew carefully. “I have also a copy of The London Chronicle in which there is another poem. Miss Hawick informed me previously that she was most interested in them, so I must hope that she finds this one to be just as intriguing, though it is markedly different from the others.”
“Different?”
Andrew’s surprise sent pins and needles through his frame, hearing Miss Hawick’s interest. He said nothing, however, casting Lord Glenfield a sharp look that told him, he prayed, to say nothing about Andrew being the author.
A small nod came from Lord Glenfield, though he turned his attention directly to Miss Hawick.
“Yes, indeed, it is very changed from the previous poems.” He held out the paper to her. “Should you like to read it?”
Something flared in Andrew’s chest at the way that Miss Hawick hesitated, finding himself eagerly desiring her to take hold of the paper and read the words he had written. Despite telling himself repeatedly that he did not care what she thought of them, his heart hoped that she would find something in it to approve of.
Eventually, she took it.
Andrew’s heart began to pound as she found the poem and, bending her head, began to read. He shifted a little so as to make out her expression, seeing the way that her blue eyes rounded at the edges, how her eyebrows lifted and, in observing that, he let a broad smile spread across his face.
Lord Glenfield cleared his throat, and Andrew quickly snapped that smile from his face, realizing just how close he had come to giving himself away.
“Well.” Miss Hawick handed the paper back to Lord Glenfield, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I think that my sister may be a little disappointed, for it does not speak fervently of love, as the other ones have done.”
She glanced at Andrew, then let her gaze fall to the ground, her hands clasping lightly in front of her. Andrew, a little confused, frowned, only for the realization of what she was thinking to become shockingly clear to him. She was remaining silent, keeping her thoughts and her opinions to herself, evidently believing that he had no interest in hearing what she had to say. Yet again, another swell of regret crashed into him, and he gestured to her, trying to smile.
