The Rough Lord

by Emma Brady

Clayton had heard that Thomas was married, but of course he had missed the wedding. Rumor was she was a bit of a surprise, a wallflower who had managed to capture the rake’s heart. Knowing how fond of the ladies Thomas used to be, Clayton was very curious about the lady who could keep his brother’s attention.

  “Was she beautiful?” Rumors could be wrong.

  “She wasn’t what I expected, but she was glowing from carrying her first child. It was obvious the duke was madly in love from the way he doted on her while we visited.”

  It was impossible to picture Thomas playing nursemaid.

  “Actually, they have offered to help me with a brilliant idea.”

  There was that nervous tone in her voice again. Silence hung between them and he didn’t try to rush her. She would tell him her thoughts when she was ready.

  “I have decided that I will hold a ball here when the work is done. Like my aunt used to do. Sort of a walk down memory lane but with a purpose. They pushed me to do something larger than I initially planned.”

  Rex almost choked on his piece of beef, but Clayton only raised an eyebrow. That was a lofty goal considering they still had so much work to do and only about a week to do it.

  “The dowager duchess offered to invite all the notable members of society who might be interested in the place and that includes people who once wanted to purchase it. That will be the perfect chance for me to find a buyer.”

  It made sense, but Clayton felt there was still more. Something else she hadn’t said that had to do with his mother.

  “A ball would be a good way to show off my hard work and meet potential clients. That would help me get more work when this job is done.”

  “You can’t possibly think you would attend!” Shock made Rory’s mouth flop up and down like a fish.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “This is going to be nothing but the best of society. I can’t have a workman strolling through them.”

  “Afraid I might get mud on the floors?”

  As they spoke, their voices raised until they were yelling at each other. Darla and Rex were too stunned to speak and sat there watching them.

  “Why are you insisting on being there? Once you finish the work, your job is done.”

  “I’m invested in this projected. I get half when it sells, remember?”

  He watched as she struggled with her anger. Making a scene would go against her breeding but not against her nature.

  “What do you find so terrible about me?” Clayton asked. “I have been nothing but kind to you since we met. Is a title really worth so much more than character?”

  He saw the way her unshed tears shimmered in the faint candlelight and felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

  “That’s not the reason. I just don’t know how the dowager duchess will feel about you being here,” Rory said. “Her missing son has just returned home, and he might have very rigid ideas about who should or should not be attending.”

  Panic made his heart speed up as he realized they could have been discussing him all afternoon.

  “Everyone thought he was dead, but apparently he has been found. She insisted I host the ball in his honor. I couldn’t offend him with guests that she didn’t invite personally.”

  Clayton sighed. She didn’t know it was him or she would have said so by now.

  “I understand.” Clayton let his voice drop back to a normal tone.

  Rory took the sleeve of her dress and wiped her eyes. It left her cheeks red and her eyelashes were damp. She looked lost and adorable, like a puppy in the rain. Darla reached over to offer her a handkerchief. Clayton could feel himself smiling now.

  “A ball would be a lot of fun. I bet you are a lovely dancer,” Clayton said. “Do you like to dance?”

  “What woman doesn’t?” She chuckled.

  “I haven’t had many chances to ask.”

  “I thought you worked for the richest people in Cape Town.”

  “Fancy parties weren’t really to my taste. I preferred places where I could get a drink and a good hand of cards.”

  “You play?” Her eyes sparked at the mention.

  “A little. Rex is by far the better of us, but I have been known to clean up a table or two.”

  “Perhaps we might be able to play a little before you leave.”

  Clayton tried to guess what she was thinking, but her expression gave away nothing but excitement.

  “I don’t usually play against ladies.”

  “It’s not more difficult. We bet the same money as men.”

  Clayton recognized her expression because he had seen it before. It was the same many men often had when they couldn’t pull themselves away from the gaming table. It was the need to play mixed with the desperation to win.

  “I think I would rather hold on to my money.” He spoke slowly, watching the joy dim from her eyes. “Are you as good at dancing as you are at gambling?”

  “I have had a great deal of practice. A few seasons in London and you get very good at it.”

  “Why so many? A woman like you should have found a match the first time,” Rex asked, ignoring Darla’s sharp look.

  “I have some bad habits.” She began fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt where her hand rested on it. “I have tried to stop myself from having them, but I can’t seem to get rid of them.”

  “Such as?”

  She glanced away and he could see her biting her lip. “I fidget too much, especially when I’m nervous.” She held up her hands for him to see. “I also tend to get the nibbles, which means I eat when I’m nervous. Men don’t like a woman who is eating all the time.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “A man.” She was avoiding looking directly at either man at the table. “More than one.”

  No man should ever be so callous.

  “I also have a competitive nature and can be very stubborn.”

  “A lot of women have those traits.”

  “Women with more impressive dowries or more powerful families. I’m not in a position to be so headstrong, yet here I am.”

  Clayton could see the way she stuck her chin out at him to hide the tremble in it. Their eyes met, and he held her gaze. He wanted to make sure she heard him clearly when he spoke. “Any man who would let a few little things like that distract him from what a wonder you are is clearly not worth your time.”

  She sucked in her breath, drawing his attention to those sweet lips. He ached to taste them again.

  “I believe dinner is over,” said Darla sharply. “Let me walk you both out.”

  Chapter 10

  RORY SPENT THE NEXT day inside the parlor with trays of pastries and her aunt’s diary. She was getting to the part where Aunt Molly met a mysterious man who intrigued her in a way no other man had. She didn’t give his name, just referred to him as The Man. Pages were filled with descriptions of his glossy black hair and dark eyes. She had met in him in London, but he visited her here after she bought the place.

  Her reading was interrupted by a very loud knock on the door.

  From the foyer, she could hear the maid talking to the visitors. It wasn’t long before the servant came in, bringing a card to show who it was. When Rory saw the names, she felt her stomach sink.

  “Show them in,” Rory told the maid.

  The two gentlemen from London appeared, and Rory rose from her seat to greet them with an icy handshake.

  “Sorry to bother you while you are on holiday, my lady,” said Hacksham. “When we visited your London home, we were told you were gone. We wanted to make sure you were getting together the funds for our employer.”

  “Either that or preparing to accept his proposal,” said Simpson.

  “I agreed to pay him by the end of the month.” She pulled herself up to her full height to look down her nose at them.

  “Yes, but that is only a week away.”

  “Then I demand you let me have that week in peace. I will meet you in my London home on the last day
of the month and not a moment sooner.”

  “To either pay up or make pretty with the boss?” Hacksham asked.

  “Yes. I will settle my debts with Lord Bittleby one way or another.”

  Both of them stood there, hats in their hands, looking at her with suspicion. As a lady she wasn’t used to people questioning her word.

  “I think we might need some kind of assurance,” said Hacksham. “In case you decide to change your mind. We don’t want to have to fetch you out here again.”

  “What kind of assurance?” she asked, holding back the urge to say something unpleasant.

  “Something worth a bit of sentimental value. Something that shows you won’t suddenly leave again.”

  “You are accusing me of running from my debt?” Rory gasped.

  “No, no, no,” the men said at the same time while looking back and forth between her and each other.

  “What exactly do you propose I give you? I’m not even in my own home.” Rory pointed around the small room at the bare walls and empty shelves. “There is nothing here for me to give to you as a pledge.”

  Simpson’s gaze slid to her chest, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Looking down, she saw that she was clutching her aunt’s diary, and that was what he had his focus on.

  “You want my aunt’s diary? It’s a private journal that means very little to anyone but me.” She moved to hold the book behind her back. “You can’t want to steal something so worthless.”

  “It’s not worthless to you, and we won’t be stealing it if you give it to us,” said Hacksham.

  “Well, I’m not going to.”

  Both men looked at her incredulously with their brows drawn together and frowns on their faces. They weren’t prepared for her to say no.

  “We have to return with the money, your hand, or something to prove your sincerity,” said Simpson.

  “You will have to leave disappointed.”

  “We are taking the book!”

  Now the little man was yelling, his chubby face turning red. He jabbed his partner in the ribs with his elbow. The poor man was confused and very hesitant to go after a lady in her own home, so he jabbed back with his own elbow. The two of them stood there jabbing each other, then eventually started slapping each other. It was the most ridiculous fight Rory had ever seen.

  “Fine!” Simpson finally said, trying to smooth out his mussed hair. “I will take it.”

  He stepped forward and tried to reach for the book. Rory quickly pulled it behind her back and tried to move away from him. She wasn’t fast enough to get away, but he was having trouble reaching around her for the diary. Rory struggled to push him away with one arm while still keeping the book away from him with the other. She saw the taller one approaching and knew she couldn’t fight them both away.

  Hacksham disappeared. He was there and then he just fell over. When she looked again, Clayton was standing there with an expression so dark it gave her the shivers. He was flexing his hand and leaning over a crumpled Hacksham. Clayton’s head turned slowly to look at Simpson, his eyes focusing on him with the intensity of a predator. The little man was smart enough to tremble.

  “Step away from her,” Clayton growled.

  Simpson started to speak, but his words stumbled over his lips and came out as a whimper. Rory suspected he was trying to keep from crumpling to the floor next to his partner.

  “Did you not hear me?” Clayton reached out one strong arm and grabbed the man by the neck, lifting him from the floor by a good inch. “Do I need to speak louder for you?”

  The man was trying to shake his head no, but Clayton’s grip made that task very difficult. The man’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he gasped for air. His stubby little legs kicked in the air as he tried to find his footing. There was no mercy in Clayton’s eyes as he watched the man begin to pass out.

  “Clayton, please,” Rory said, unsure of exactly what it was she was begging for—the man’s life or Clayton’s soul.

  His gaze slid to her, and she saw such violence in them. He began to blink, and they softened with each movement like someone who was just beginning to wake. Clayton slowly released the man, who dropped to the floor and scurried over to check on his friend. The tall man was still on the floor but had sat up and was holding his jaw. Both of them looked at Clayton as if he was a wild animal, and Rory couldn’t deny how close they were to the truth.

  “We are simply here to perform our job,” said Hacksham from where he still was on the floor. “She owes our employer a debt, and we were sent to collect on it.”

  “By attacking a lady in her home?”

  “We didn’t attack her. We were collecting what was owed.”

  “A book? You were going to steal a book from her?”

  “We needed something to hold as collateral until she could pay the debt. She claimed there was nothing else.”

  “There is nothing else.”

  “We cannot leave empty handed.”

  Clayton let out a growl and pulled his money clip full of bills from his pocket, removing the pounds it held and dropping them to the floor in front of the men. They grabbed them up and looked them over, checking the quantity. Even from a distance she could see it was a substantial amount. The clip itself was also impressive with its gold finish and glittering gem accents. They must have been satisfied, because the smaller man slipped the money into his pocket and they helped each other up to their feet.

  “We want to remind Lady Rory that her debt must be paid. Our employer expects to see her in London with his payment in one form or another by the end of the week,” said the smaller man.

  “Fine. I will have it for him by then.” Rory gave them her best glare. “But I don’t want to see you two on my property again. He will get it then and not a moment sooner.”

  Both men nodded vigorously and then scurried out the front door. It felt as if all the strength drained from her body when they were gone, and Rory sank back into one of the chairs, letting the book fall into her lap. Tears formed in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. Clayton moved silently to stand beside her.

  “Are you judging me now?” she asked, refusing to look up at him.

  “No.”

  “You must realize that I owe gambling debts. That’s what they were coming to collect.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about it.”

  Rory barked laughter. “Of course you were. Strange men come to my house and you have to fend them off for me. You have to be thinking about it.”

  “All I’m thinking about is your well-being. I want to know if you are all right.”

  “I’m not. I can’t be as long as I have them and their employer waiting for me out there.”

  “Who is their employer?”

  “Not anyone you would know. A man named Lord Bittleby.” Rory swallowed, listening to the sound of her voice crack as she struggled to maintain her composure. “I didn’t owe any big debt, just a lot of smaller ones. He went and bought up all my markers, meaning I owe everything to him. He’s trying to use that to force me into marriage with him.”

  Rory waited for him to say something, but the moment passed in silence. Finally, she looked up to him, expecting pity in those eyes. Instead, she found only warmth in his expression, and that broke the last of her resolve.

  Tears flowed from her eyes and down her face while sobs shook her body. Clayton knelt beside her and wrapped his strong arms around her as she leaned into him. Her father and brother had been the only men to ever hold her in such a way, but this felt different. He felt stronger and more real than her memories of them. Her senses were going crazy, savoring each detail of him that was different.

  Clayton smelled like grass and soil, like playing in a garden in the beginning of spring, before the flowers bloomed. His shirt was rough but warm where she pressed her face against his chest. She could hear the steady thumping of his heart, and soon the rhythm of it began to calm her down. His hands slowly stroked her back. She knew he was whispering
soothing words into her hair but couldn’t hear what they were.

  “What happened?”

  Darla stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and her hands holding a large umbrella like a weapon. She waved it in the air a few times in Clayton’s direction but only as a warning. Once he moved away from Rory, Darla let it fall to her side.

  Rory hastily wiped her eyes.

  “We had a couple of unwelcome guests.” Rory forced her voice to sound calm. “I’m afraid Mr. Murdoch insisted they leave. They were really quite upset by it.”

  “Who were they?”

  “The solicitors from London. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  Darla understood what that meant and nodded. It was her job to look after Rory, and she took that very seriously. Rory wished she had a way to keep her friend from suffering for her actions, but the two of them were in this together.

  Darla shot a glare at Clayton. Rory looked at him and saw that there was a big wet stain on his shirt where she had been crying into it. He looked very tousled and distraught, which Rory found adorable. Darla didn’t look like she felt the same way.

  “I think Mr. Murdoch will be getting back to work now,” Darla said, giving him the chance to escape. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  Rory wished she had the chance to tell him how truly grateful she was, but he was too busy being rushed out of the room by Darla. He just gave them both a nod and left the room. She hoped he wouldn’t think less of her now that he knew what had brought her out to the country.

  “Why were those men here?” Darla asked. “I saw them from my window.”

  “Spying on me again?”

  “It’s my job to keep an eye on you, and you should be glad I did. They could have caused a lot of trouble.”

  Rory sighed. “They came to remind me of my debt and the impending deadline.”

  “Why would they come all the way out here for it? They should wait until we return to London.”

  “They know the reason we left town.” Rory winced at the sound of Darla gasping. “They suspected we might not be planning to return at all.”

  “Did you tell them you were going to be selling the house?”