Page 43 of The Truth about the Rogue
Lord Glenfield blinked.
“Oh. And did she see you? Did she know that you were there?”
Andrew nodded.
“I am lost in a sea of tumult,” he muttered, only for Lord Glenfield to begin to smile.
That smile spread to a grin and, as Andrew watched, confused at his friend’s reaction, Lord Glenfield began to laugh. Andrew’s astonishment grew all the more, only for him to then frown as, rather than give an explanation, Lord Glenfield continued to lose himself in mirth, evidently at Andrew’s expense.
“Forgive me, my friend!” Lord Glenfield spoke, perhaps seeing Andrew’s discontentment. “I do not mean to be so foolish and indeed, it is not that I am laughing at you!”
Andrew scowled.
“Then why do you laugh?”
“Because,” his friend grinned, sitting forward in his chair, “do you not realizewhyyou desire to pull away from Lady Faustine and towards Miss Hawick instead? Do you not have any inkling as to why that might be?”
Blinking, Andrew scowled.
“I have just told you that I cannot understand it. Why, then, would you ask me such a thing? Is it not clear to you that I am struggling? I feel as though I have lost myself and do not know who I am any longer!”
Lord Glenfield’s smile did not fade.
“My dear friend, I believe that you have had an interest – anaffection –for Miss Hawick since the very moment you mether.” Andrew’s mouth dropped open. “You will tell me that I am foolish, of course, that I speak nothing but nonsense, but I can assure you, that desire you had for her to not only acknowledge your work, but appreciate it, came from a genuine interest in the lady herself.”
Immediately, Andrew scoffed at this, shaking his head fervently.
“You are quite mistaken there, my friend. I thought nothing of the lady in that regard!”
“Are you quite certain?”
“She exasperated me by her remarks about my work!” Andrew exclaimed, as though this was all the explanation that his friend needed. “Her comparison of it to other works was maddening!”
“Why?”
Andrew flung out his hands.
“Because I wanted…” His hands fell to his sides as he fought to find an explanation that did not involve him accepting all that Lord Glenfield had said. “Because I wanted her to think as well of my work as she did of others,” he said, slowly, his brow furrowing as he ran one hand over his chin.
“Which is rather strange, is it not?” Lord Glenfield lifted an eyebrow. “You had every other young lady in London sighing and cooing over your poetry, but youalsohad Miss Hawick speaking a little more frankly and considerately than they. Why, if you had so many of them delighting in what you had written, did you care so much about one young lady’s thoughts?”
It was a question that Andrew could not answer. He frowned, hard, then threw back his brandy to delay offering Lord Glenfield an answer. This only made his friend chuckle all over again and Andrew’s heart twisted, lost in a myriad of thoughts and feelings.
“I cannot have any real affection for her,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over his eyes. “That is preposterous.”
“Is it?” Lord Glenfield lifted his eyebrows. “I can tell you this, my friend, I have a genuine and growing affection for Miss Lillian Hawick – no, you need not look at me with such surprise – and with that comes a growing and steady desire to be the very best gentleman I can be. I am eager to know what she thinks, what she feels, what she delights in, and what she does not. I want to know everything about her and to spend as much time as I can in her company.” He smiled, a light in his eyes that Andrew had never seen before. “That does not mean that I am not aware of her flaws and faults, just as she is aware of mine. I speak with too much flirtation at times, and I am inclined to tease - which she does not like, and she is inclined to be a little too fervent in her manner and speech at times, though I understand now why she is so.” His smile softened. “If she thought poorly of me – or of something that I did, I should be greatly displeased, and would do my utmost to improve myself. Does that not speak to you, my friend? Can you not see that there is the same desire within you, when it comes to your poetry,andto your fight between turning back to your flirtations and the like, or turning away from them all?”
Andrew got up from his chair, feeling unsettled and restless.
“I do not think that your affections for Miss Lillian can be compared to my interest in Miss Charlotte.”
“Why not?”
“Because it is not the same!”
His friend rose, came across to where Andrew stood, and poured himself a brandy, refilling Andrew’s glass along with it.
“Then you must ask yourself what it is that you feel when it comes to the lady. You must discoverwhyyou have such an interest in her, why you desire to improve yourself so that she thinks better of your work... and of you yourself.”
