Page 3 of Her Rogue to Kiss Good Morning
Grant closed his eyes and blew out a breath.“I doubt that.She would not have wanted me to run away from here for years.”
“You’re wrong,” Sinbrough said.“She loved you and she would have understood your need to be away.But we do not need to discuss that now.When will you return?”
Never… He did not want to go to his estate.He was back in England.Wasn’t that enough.“I send missives to the stewards of each estate.”Both his and his father’s… “I asked them to travel to London to meet with me.I was hoping I could stay here for now.But I heard you recently married.I would hate to intrude.”
Sinbrough’s lips twitched again.“I have married.But you need not worry.My wife would gladly welcome you to stay with us.”
“Pardon the interruption…” A woman interrupted them.Grant turned to see who it was and sucked in a breath.Was this lovely lady his cousin’s wife.Good god… He’d never seen a more beautiful woman.“Oh, I am sorry,” she said.“I did not realize you had company.”Grant’s chest tightened, betraying a stirring he had not felt in years.Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, shining even in the muted light of the hall, and those eyes—oh, those eyes.Surely no artist or poet could ever render a shade of blue so arresting.He should turn away.He must turn away.Yet every instinct in his body urged him closer, daring him to cross the invisible line that propriety demanded he respect.This was not good… If this was the new duchess, he had to control the urge that held him riveted.
“It’s all right,” the duke said.“Please come in and meet my cousin.”
She smiled and curtsied.“Hello,” she said softly.She had a melodic voice that was like music to his ears.He swallowed hard.
“This is Viscount Oakwood,” the duke said.“Oakwood, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Cocwood.She resides here now with me and my wife.”
He frowned.She was not the duke’s wife… Well, that was better, but still…she was married.“You reside here?”he asked.Why?He could not ask that question because it would be the height of rudeness.
“I do,” she told him.“My sister and the duke have graciously offered me a place in their home after my husband’s death.”She met the duke’s gaze and smiled at him.“I am most grateful.”
“You are always welcome here,” the duke told her.“What is it you need?”
“Juliette wanted me to remind you that you are to meet her in the sitting room in a quarter hour.She has something she wished to discuss with you.”
“Ah, that’s right…” He frowned.“Thank you.I will go now.Could you do me a favor and let Grimms now that Oakwood will remain with us and a room needs to be prepared.”
“Of course,” she said.“I will go now.”
The duke exited, but Lady Cocwood stood still in the doorway and met his gaze.She almost seemed reluctant to depart.He did not wish for her to go either.
Grant was stunned.The presence of this lady… The very air seemed to draw his eye and hold it captive when she was near.Lady Cocwood—widow, beauty, and sister to the duchess herself—stood with the poise of one accustomed to attention, yet there was a softness in her gaze that spoke of restraint.What she must have gone through to be widowed at such a young age.She did not wear black so her husband must have died a while ago.He wanted to know more about her and he would love nothing more than to seduce her.He should not pursue her.Not with her being the sister of his cousin’s wife… It would be no simple matter to resist temptation here though.Resisting it, as he now realized, might be more difficult than he had ever imagined.
He bowed stiffly, murmuring his thanks, and stepped toward the door.Yet, even as he moved, his eyes lingered on her.She watched him with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, as if reading the thoughts he did not dare speak aloud.A faint smile played upon her lips, and Grant felt an unbidden warmth rise to his chest, one he would have scorned in any other company.She did not say another word though.Slowly, she exited the room and left him alone.
Once he heard her steps in the hallway he exhaled, his composure loosening in the privacy of the study.She is not for you,he chastised himself.And yet…The echo of her voice lingered like a delicate refrain, and the image of her eyes, restrained but aware, haunted his mind.
Grant leaned against the doorway for a moment, gathering his wits.There was much to navigate: propriety, loyalties, and the ever-present scrutiny of his family.And yet, he was keenly aware that the undercurrent of desire and curiosity that the lady inspired could not be so easily dismissed.
The ticking of the clock in the hall seemed almost conspicuous as he straightened his coat and stepped fully into the sitting room.Here, Easton awaited, upright and polished, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of wariness.
The morning sun had broken through the curtains, casting a pale light across the study’s polished floors.Grant was restless from stirrings of the day, the need to act, to move, to assert control.The memory of Lady Cocwood’s gaze, her quiet confidence and subtle grace, remained, stubborn and insistent, like a melody that would not fade in his mind.Grant felt the currents of desire and complication swirling, waiting for the first opportunity to draw him into their orbit.He had to know more about her…he just had to, and he would while he stayed at Sinbrough House.
Two
The spring air carried a crispness that bit gently at Clara’s cheeks as she wandered along the winding gravel paths of Sinbrough House.The garden had not yet to bloomed.Shoots of green poked through the dark earth and delicate buds hinted at blooms yet to come in the next few weeks.There was a quiet satisfaction in the orderly world of hedges and blooms, where time seemed to pause, and she could, if only briefly, forget the turbulence of her own life.Here amongst the greenery Clara could take time for herself and contemplate what she wanted for her life.She would never have predicted she would become a widow at such a young age or that her own mother would turn her back on her.She had been so naive and hopeful about her future.She had to quickly reevaluate everything once her husband had foolishly broken his neck after that race, he insisted he could win.What had he been thinking?What had she?
Clara sighed.The truth was neither of them had been thinking.Her husband had thought he was invincible and Clara?Well, she had thought she was in love.What did she know about love?Clearly it had been nothing but infatuation.She had been in love with the idea of love.Clara drew her shawl tighter about her shoulders and took a deep calming breath.Here, in the garden at Sinbrough House, she could imagine a life of calm—one far removed from scandal, deceit, and regret.And yet, that illusion was fragile.Even here in her place of calm her life could unravel at any second.It didn’t matter that she had the protection of her sister’s husband, the Duke of Sinbrough.Her scandalous past would always haunt her, and she would forever be tainted by it.She had accepted her fate and knew she would never truly know love.She wasn’t even certain she wanted to find it.Could she ever trust her life in the hands of a man again?The duke was safe because he belonged to her sister, and she trusted Juliet.
She sat down on a bench and lifted her face to the sky and let what little warmth the sun offered to bathe over her.She closed her eyes and let it drench her soul.She had a meeting with the dowager Countess of Wyndam later that day, but for now she just wanted to forget everything.To just find some sense of peace that she could carry with her.
“You look lovely in the sunlight,” a male said bringing her out of her own thoughts.
Clara opened her eyes and met his gaze.
He seemed to have an effortless confidence that she almost envied.He was a man accustomed to commanding attention and she could definitely understand why.His dark hair was perfectly tousled, and eyes were the deepest blue met she had ever seen.He met her gaze with a casual, almost insolent grace.He smiled—oh, that smile—a dangerous curve that promised mischief rather than comfort.He was the type of man that she would have been drawn to before she had lost her innocence.She knew better now.Viscount Oakwood was a man she should avoid.
Still, Clara’s heart gave a small, involuntary leap before that firm, rational warning coursed through her.She knew down to her very soul that this man was trouble.She had seen the type before.He would be charming, bold, alluring, and utterly untrustworthy.Her late husband had been much the same, and the memory of that betrayal still tasted bitter.It had not been that long ago that she had been widowed after all.She should turn away.She should leave him alone in the garden.Yet, despite all of that she found her gaze lingering on him.She studied the lines of his face, the tilt of his head and the way the sunlight caught the glint of mischief in his eyes.There was a stark beauty in his features she appreciated.She may know she should steer clear of the man, but that did not mean she did not recognize a gorgeous man.
He was a rogue and she would not be fooled again—no matter how devilishly handsome he appeared.If she kept reminding herself of that perhaps she would be able to keep her distance.“Good morning, Lord Oakwood,” she greeted him.She could remain civil even if she hoped to avoid the man.“I trust you have settled well.”
