Page 96 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“I am far from happy, but that will be remedied when Wigmore is dead by my hand.”
He shot to his feet and was striding to the doorway before his words truly registered. She scrambled after him, nearly tripping on her hem in her hurry.
“No.” She grabbed his arm and somehow found the strength to spin him around, he who was so much larger than she, broader, more muscled. She could feel the fury shimmering through him. “You can’t kill him.”
“I beg to differ.” He held up his massive hands. “With these wrapped about his throat, I expect I’ll accomplish it quite easily.”
“You can’t do this.”
“You were right all along, Phee. I’m not nearly civilized enough for the aristocracy. You know of my past. You know that the blood of a murderer races through my veins. I am my father’s son. I have his temper, and there are times when I want to explode with it.”
“But you don’t. You haven’t. And you can’t now. They’ll hang you.”
“Not such a loss when you consider how I hurt you. However, I shall go out with a bit more dignity than my father went.”
“You won’t go out at all. I won’t allow it. Don’t you understand what I’ve been striving to explain to you? I’m not worth it.”
He dragged her into his arms, held her near. “You’re worth everything.”
“And if Wigmore won’t cooperate?” Phee asked.
“I shan’t give him a choice.”
She had no doubts there. They were traveling in Lovingdon’s coach. She thought it a testament to the duke’s faith in his friend and Grace’s love of her brother that neither asked for an explanation regarding why they needed to travel to Stillmeadow this hour of the night. They were going to retrieve her aunt so Phee could care for her as she wanted, out from under Wigmore’s shadow.
Within the coach, they hadn’t bothered to light the inside lantern. For some reason, it seemed this journey needed to be made in shadows.
“If my memory hadn’t returned, were you ever going to tell me who I was?” she asked.
“I don’t expect you to believe me, but I was going to tell you the night we celebrated, but I became distracted from my purpose.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Then I was going to tell you before we went to the seaside, but Grace walked in and you remembered everything. Odd.”
She thought she heard disappointment in his voice because Grace had been the one to stir her memories to life and not him. “Perhaps because she was always my haven. I came the closest to being myself when I was with her. When she visited at Stillmeadow I knew I would be free of Wigmore’s attentions for the duration of her stay. When I saw her in your foyer, a floodgate of memories unlocked.”
“That included me.”
“That included you. It was never going to end well between us. You must have known that.”
He sighed. “Unfortunately, knowing how things would end did not stop me from wanting you. Which makes me the worst sort of scoundrel. I quite understand you’re not forgiving me. But you’re to let me know if you find yourself with child.”
Her stomach clenched painfully. She’d not even considered that. To have his child—
She looked out the window. Her dream was freedom, her dream was to care for animals, but another dream nudged at the edge of her mind. A black-haired, black-eyed baby nestled in her arms, staring up at her. It was a dream she wouldn’t consider. How could she ever trust him fully again?
“How is Daisy?” she asked.
“Presently being cared for in a very fine stable until you’re ready for her.”
It was silly to miss a horse, but she did. “I shall probably take her to Somerdale’s estate, so she’ll have room to run. Until I reach the age of thirty and my trust is handed to me, I’m rather limited on what I can accomplish.”
“What of marriage?”
“Even without my memories I knew I didn’t want it. I told you what my dream was. It was strong enough not to get lost. I’ve only been biding my time, pretending to be on the hunt for a husband because that’s what ladies of my station do.” She planned to reject all proposals, all offers until she came of an age when no man would want her, until she was quite on the shelf and could live a life without being under a man’s thumb. “It’s odd. Marla, who as a servant is never expected to marry, desperately wants a husband. While I, the daughter of an earl, am expected to marry and I desperately don’t wish to. It seems we always want what we can’t have.”
“It seems so, yes.” His voice was laced with regret and sorrow. “I’ll loan you the amount of your trust. You don’t need to wait until you’re thirty to have the life you want.”
Her heart gave a little stutter. “You need that money to renovate your business.”
“Renovations can be made at any time.”
