Page 34 of Rose and the Rogue
“Indeed, sir.” Privately, Adrian hoped Poppy sent every single one of them running for the hills.
“Then you may continue to associate with my daughter, so long as she does not object.”
“Miss Blake is no child. She is intelligent and quite capable of deciding who to spend her time with. If she chooses not to receive me, I should of course leave her be.” Adrian leaned closer, his voice hot. “But I will let no one insinuate that my actions are less than honorable. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” Blake said, just as hot. “Though it’s a bit late in the game for you to trumpet your honor.” He left before Adrian could form a suitable reply.
He sat back in the chair, thinking hard.
Why the hell had he argued so fiercely for the mere right to see Rose? He and Carlos had given the list of dangerous names to Poppy. The family had the responsibility to protect their own daughter. Adrian could walk away this instant.
But he didn’t want to. He closed his eyes and heard Rose’s voice in his head again. He couldn’t walk away from that. And he couldn’t let anyone destroy such beauty.
Chapter 12
Dear Camellia,
Much has happened since we wrote to you last. The most important change is the increased size of the Blake household. Two new kittens have joined us, one for Poppy, one for me! They were rescued from the wilds of the back garden, by two gentleman callers who proved up to the challenge. I am told that mine is a tabby, and Poppy’s a darling little gray furball. When you have the time, you must visit and meet them. (The cats, not the men! —Poppy)
Please know that we are thinking of your mother now, and hope that she is on the mend…
Rose and Poppy had stayed at Lady Selby’s house very late last evening, and they got back home in the small hours. Poppy had announced that she could see the eastern sky growing pale by the time the girls finally climbed into their beds. Unsurprisingly, they slept till nearly noon.
Rose woke first, lolling in bed, enjoying the soft touch of a spring breeze through the open window. She listened to the chirping of dozens of birds in the yard outside, and cuddled into her bedding, the cotton pillowcase smooth and cool against her cheek. Then she brushed her hand against fur, and heard a mewing.
“Oh, I’ve got a cat,” she murmured.
“Me too,” Poppy said from her bed. “They seem to like sleeping in beds better than on the ground.”
“Quite reasonable.” Rose petted the small kitten, who began to purr loudly. “To think that yesterday morning we didn’t have these darling little creatures!”
“The men did show great zeal in rescuing them,” Poppy agreed with a dry tone that Rose couldn’t quite understand.
“Wasn’t that a noble act?”
“Hmmmm” was all Poppy said. “Perhaps not entirely.”
“I hope you were not too bored by Lord Norbury’s friend.”
“How could I be bored when the day included the rescue of wild animals and Mr. de la Guerra scaling an oak tree as easily as I climb a staircase?”
“Lord Norbury suggested you two were getting along while you were walking the garden path…before the cat rescue.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Poppy sniffed. “He’s extremely high-handed and thinks he’s always correct and he thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.”
“Oh, so just like you, then,” Rose noted blandly.
“Not like me at all! I don’t associate with notorious rogues, and make fun of British society—”
Rose chuckled. “You do make fun of British society, on an almost daily basis.”
“Well, I don’t sail the sea, crisscrossing the Caribbean on whatever adventures he chooses to have.”
“It sounds exciting.”
“What shall you name your cat? Did you have any ideas after sleeping?” Poppy asked, clearly trying to change the subject. “I think it’s a him.”
Just then, the kitten stretched and flexed out thin, needle-sharp claws. It raked Rose’s forearm as it did so, making her wince. “Ooooh, stop that,” she told the cat, pulling the offending paw away to a safer distance. “You’re a regular rakehell, aren’t you?”
