Page 43 of Ruthless with a Rogue
“Lord Dunmore…?”
His weighty sigh was his only response.He didn’t have the energy to deal with people.Questions.Maybe if he ignored her, she’d leave.They all left eventually.His forehead hit his knees again.His throat tightened, and the sharp claws dug into him, dug into the back of his skull, pulling his sanity away from him.He rocked back and forth, squeezed his eyes shut.Go away.Leave me alone.He wasn’t sure if he was pleading with the shadows or the woman.
The subtle swish of fabric and pad of slippers filled the space, grew louder until they halted just before him.And then a small body was settling next to him, shoulder pressing against his, knees drawn up and knocking against where his arms were still wrapped around his own.
She didn’t say anything.Was simply present.There was something grounding in the feel of her against him.And his curiosity, and now a glimmer of surprise, chased away some of the darkness pressing down on him.
He let out a frayed breath but didn’t lift his head.“What are you doing here, Miss Forester?”
The silence that greeted him was taut with tension.He could almost feel the way she weighed her words.He could only assume it was over his neglect of their arrangement for the evening.He knew he should have written, summoned a servant, done something.But he hadn’t.Hadn’t had the energy, hadn’t found it in himself to care.He’d sunk too deep, too quickly.
She had every right to her ire.Though he had no idea why she’d come all the way here to make it known.Waste of her bloody time.Let her share her displeasure if she wanted.Scold, shout, snipe.He’d learned long ago how to revert inside himself until he heard nothing.Felt nothing.
Numb.
“I wanted to ensure you were all right,” she said softly.
His head snapped up, and he met her gaze, those blue eyes colorless in the dark of his study.But he could make out her outline.Her hood was down now, and his gaze traced the thin frame of her face, the line of her pert nose, the gentle curve of her ear.He didn’t think he’d have ever come up with that as her reasoning.
“I abandoned our arrangement…and you’re here out of concern?”
“I was afraid something had happened.To prevent you.”
He didn’t drop her gaze, though it probably didn’t matter here in the dark.“Nothing happened.I simply didn’t want to keep the engagement.”He was curt, rude.But she didn’t flinch at the bite in his tone.It was the truth, after all.He didn’t want her here now either.All he wanted was to be alone.
She rolled her lips in and made a softmmmnoise.“How long have you been sitting here?”
He leaned back against the wall and frowned, let out an annoyed huff.He had no bloody idea.There had been light peeking out from behind the curtains of his study when he’d first landed here.It was long gone now.“I don’t know what time it is.But perhaps since…half-past three?”
“Does this happen to you often?”The question was so soft he almost missed it.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”Did he fall into a deep melancholy often?Did the darkness engulf him, trying to take him as its own?Did numbness steal over him to the point where he was indifferent to everything, to life?So many questions.The answer to them was all the same.
“When I was six, my mother went to visit a friend in London,” Miss Forester said.
He rolled his head against the wall until he faced her.Her profile was to him, her hands tangled together atop her knees.His mind was too sluggish follow why she was saying this.
“That visit has lasted fourteen years.”
His breath stalled.She looked at him then.He didn’t detect any sadness.Or perhaps a sad acceptance.
“In the years that followed, I really struggled.I wrote to her for years without a response.Eventually I gave up, but...”Her words drifted off and when she spoke again they were barely a whisper.“I kept writing, even though I stopped sending them.It was pathetic, really.”
It wasn't.Not at all.He completely understood.The desperation.The bone-deep yearning for a parent's affection.How the act of writing to a mother who didn't exist, allowed her to pretend some part of her mother was still there.An attempt to fill the emptiness left in their absence.
“I didn’t—still don’t, if I’m honest—understand why she left us.My papa is not the most affectionate of parents.Not the most…present.I was extremely lonely for a very long time.I don’t know your reasons, my lord.But this”—she waved a hand around the still, shadowed study—“I recognize this.I have been here many times.”
He frowned hard and tried to swallow down the thickness building in his throat.Tried to glare away the burn building behind his eyes.Something in her admission lit him on fire.That this lively, intelligent woman had suffered the same shadows he did.He hoped she was free of them now.This woman was meant to shine, to only ever be touched by light.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered.“I don’t need your reasons.I’m happy to just sit in silence.I know I would have appreciated something as simple as that back then.”
Their eyes met again.Did he want that?All he wanted was to curl up on the cold wood floor until this passed.If it passed.Would it help to have Miss Forester stay?
Miss Forester… Here in his study… At a very late hour… Without a chaperone…
His eyes snapped wide.“What the fuck are you doing here?”
The chit had the nerve to chuckle.
