Page 103 of Ruthless with a Rogue
Derek
Derekstaredatthedecanter of whisky sitting atop his desk.The liquid appeared almost black in the dimness of his study, the only light coming from the sconces in the hall outside.
By this time tomorrow, all would know the Marquess of Dunmore’s roving days were at an end.From being known for only bedding a woman once, to only bedding one woman for the rest of his life.
Livy, for the rest of his life.
He picked up the decanter by the neck and took a swig.His hiss echoed in the quiet room.
It sounded like heaven.
And he had no idea how he’d gotten here.What he’d admitted to Mr.Sheffield hadn’t truly hit him until he’d returned home from the foundling home.
He loved her.
And he’d done a right-shite job telling her he wanted to marry her a few days ago.Tomorrow night, he’d do better.His fingers trembled on the desktop.Then he supposed he should write to her father.Though it was probably best to wait until after the foundling charity event.
He groaned and let his head drop to the cool wood surface.His heart shouldn’t be beating as fast as it currently was when all he was doing was sitting on his arse in his study.But nerves were crawling under his skin, and fear was burning a hole in his gut.He squeezed his eyes shut tight, but his shadows didn’t disappear.He couldn’t shake the grim certainty that now everything was in his grasp, everything he had never known he needed, fate was lurking, waiting to snatch it away.
“Why is it dark as Hades in here?”a familiar voice drifted from the hall.
“His Lordship requested it so, Your Grace.”
Derek’s head snapped up so fast pain shot down his neck.He winced and rubbed the spot.
An ominous shadow of a man appeared in the doorway.“Well, this is melodramatic.You look like you need a drink.”
“Rafe,” Derek breathed.
The events of the last month came barreling forward, andfuck,he blinked furiously, his chest cracking as every overwhelming emotion he’d experienced in that time roared to life inside him.Dear God.What was happening to him?It was like everything he’d been so determined to hold at bay spilled free the moment that familiar low timbre hit his ears.Like he wasn’t alone any longer.His best mate was back.Fucking hell, he’d missed the bastard.
Derek swallowed thickly.They weren’t ones to sit around and discussfeelingsor provide comfort or advice.But just Rafe’s presence was home, was family.
“You’re home,” he croaked out.“When did you get back into town?How was—”
Rafe’s hand shot up.“Not now.I’m back, and we’re going out.”He glanced around the dark study.“Somewhere with a bit more light.”
Derek nodded.“After the day”—bloody month—“I had, I could use a drink.”He hastily grabbed his coat.
“My carriage is out front and waiting.”
They strode shoulder-to-shoulder to the entry.
Fuck, it felt good to have Rafe by his side again.
A carriage ride later, they were settled in front of a card table at Grambler’s, each with a whisky in hand.Well, Rafe’d had a whisky in hand, but the man had just downed the thing and was already pouring a refill.
“How was Iron—”
“So will you tell me why you were moping in a darkened townhouse, facedown on your desk?”
Derek narrowed his eyes at his friend.Avoidance.But he knew that place wasn’t something Rafe or Dorothea ever wanted to discuss.He let it go for now.“I wasnotmoping.”He rotated the glass in his hands.“I was…” Spiraling?Being scared shiteless?
“You were…” Rafe’s brows were practically touching, he was frowning so hard.
Derek ran a hand down his face.Fuck.“You wouldn’t believe how much has happened while you’ve been gone,” he murmured.
Rafe scoffed.Like he…understood?Derek cocked his head and studied his best mate.Who was now on his third glass of whisky, whereas Derek hadn’t even touched his yet.
