More Than a Rogue

by Sophie Barnes

  Her comment caused Griffin to sit up straighter, his fork halting en route to his mouth. He set it back down while battling the sharp stab of protest attacking his chest. “As we previously discussed, leaving you alone without any protection is not an option.”

  “But—”

  “I am staying,” he clipped, not caring that his comment made her glare at him like a petulant child reprimanded by a parent. Softening his tone slightly, he added, “Caleb will host a house party at his estate in Dorset on the seventeenth.”

  “Yes, I know. My mother mentioned it in her letter.”

  “Right.” He gave her a firm look. “When it is time to depart for Montvale Manor, I shall escort you.”

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “Trust me when I tell you that I have never been more so.”

  She gave a carrot an angry stab with her fork. “If we go to Montvale together, avoiding marriage will become even more difficult.” A heavy sigh escaped her and she suddenly slumped back against her chair. “Why run toward something that neither of us wants?”

  The stabbing sensation in Griffin’s chest deepened. “Because running away isn’t the answer. The choices we have made these last few days are not as insignificant as you would like to make them, Miss Howard. We owe it to ourselves and to our families to act accordingly, which means we must face the repercussions with dignity.”

  “So you would destroy your life, for what? A momentary lapse in judgment?”

  He winced and proceeded to eat a few bites of food before saying, “Rest assured I will do what I can to convince everyone that marriage would be an unnecessary recourse.” For reasons he could not explain, her aversion bothered him more than he was comfortable with. Troubled, the only solution was to agree that he was equally opposed to the idea of marriage. After all, they did not know each other particularly well. But the attraction he’d felt toward her the moment they’d met had been steadilly growing.

  It was the reason he’d followed her out into the garden, the reason he’d stopped her from spending more time alone with Mr. Bale, and the reason he’d so readily kissed her. Only to realize that he was in serious danger of doing a whole lot more.

  It was also the reason he’d chased after her to the inn, the reason he’d escorted her all this way, and the reason he could not seem to leave, even though staying did not serve his purpose in any way. If anything, it threatened to disrupt his business and… He took a quick sip of his wine. How foolish he was being when it was clear she wanted him gone.

  Her eyes found his from across the table, conveying a depth of gratitude that squeezed at his heart. Her features were a great deal softer now than they had been moments earlier. “Thank you.”

  A curious tightness worked its way up his throat, so he merely nodded. Fool indeed. If he weren’t any wiser, he’d think he was falling for her – a woman who would never care for him in return.

  The last thing Emily expected was for her mother to arrive at Clearview only two hours later. But here she was now, standing on the front doorstep with the family coach directly behind her and Patsy, her lady’s maid, standing by her side.

  Emily stared at the woman who’d raised her, completely befuddled. In her hand, she held the sponge with which she’d been washing the dishes when three loud raps on the front door had caused her stomach to dip with concern.

  “Well?” Georgina raised both eyebrows. “Will you keep us standing here all night or do you intend to invite us in?”

  Jolted by the firm tone, Emily took a step back and held the door wide. “Forgive me. I was not expecting your arrival.” A modicum of composure began to return, allowing Emily to shake off her initial surprise and consider the situation more clearly. “Your letter made no mention of your intention to come here. Nor did the Duke of Camberly’s.”

  “I know.” Georgina brushed past her daughter, opened the first door on her left, and peered into the parlor. She shut the door again and moved on to the next, admitting herself to the dining room. “Where is he?”

  Emily inhaled deeply. “In the kitchen.” When her mother opened the door to Cassandra’s study, Emily directed her to the opposite one. Behind them, Patsy arranged the luggage with the help of the coachman.

  Emily’s mother flung the kitchen door open and stepped into the warm room. “Dear God,” she exclaimed, prompting Emily to hurry in after her. Georgina swung back to face her, the outrage she was about to convey reflected in her wide eyes. She pointed to where Lord Griffin stood, wiping a plate with a dish rag. “He’s not even fully clothed!”

  Emily glanced at her house guest. His appearance hadn’t changed in the time it had taken her to go greet her mother, but the lack of a jacket and waistcoat along with his rolled-up shirt sleeves were suddenly far more glaring than they’d been before. Heat rushed to Emily’s cheeks, but rather than flee the scene as she felt inclined to do, she cleared her throat and took a step forward.

  “We were not expecting company, Mama, so Lord Griffin chose to make himself comfortable. For which I do not believe we should fault him.”

  Georgina’s eyes widened even more. “It is worse than I feared,” she said on a breathy exhalation. “You speak of yourself and Lord Griffin as if you are already a couple.” When Lord Griffin started to speak, Georgina held up her hand. “Sir. I do not wish to know the extent of your relationship with my daughter, but one thing is clear—you will do the honorable thing or so help me I shall—”

  “Mama.” Emily bit out the word with a rising sense of indignation. “You have no right to make demands of Lord Griffin. Least of all when I am the one at fault. Indeed, you may rest assured that he has acted honorably toward me from the very beginning.”

  “If I may,” Lord Griffin said.

  “Are you telling me that my eyes deceived me when I saw your mouth attached to his at the ball?” Georgina asked, ignoring Lord Griffin completely.

  Emily’s cheeks grew hotter. She could no longer look at Lord Griffin on account of the fierce embarrassment raking her skin in response to her mother’s question. He remained but a blur at the periphery of her vision. And yet, she refused to be put in her place by the woman who ought to have loved her, cared for her, put her first. Instead, Emily’s mother had only thought of her own goals and how her daughter might realize them. Coming here was no different than her misguided efforts to fatten Emily up and push her into unflattering gowns years ago.

  This realization encouraged Emily to speak with unforgiving candor. “No. Your eyes did not deceive you, Mama. But as I told you at the time, you, Laura, and Aunt Julia were the only witnesses to that incident. No one else knows that it happened.” Seeing her mother’s mouth set with determination, Emily pressed on, undaunted. “Similarly, no one besides our immediate family knows I left London in Mr. Crawford’s company. Unless of course, you have let it slip.” She eyed her mother shrewdly before saying, “If that is the case, then you ought to know I shall never forgive you. But in any event, I will not be marrying Lord Griffin. His kindness and consideration toward me deserves more than some backhanded attempt at getting him leg shackled to a woman he barely knows.”

  “Emily.” Georgina’s voice was tight.

  “And also,” Emily said, choosing to ignore her, “I am not a child you can order about. I have lived happily here these past six years, ever since you…” She swallowed, the past catching up with her in a rush that threatened to overwhelm. “You may stay as my guest, but I will never bow to your will again. Is that understood?”

  Georgina glared back at her for a long, drawn out moment, but she eventually did as Emily hoped she would and nodded.

  Emily turned to Lord Griffin for the first time since her mother’s arrival. “I will show my mother and her maid up to their rooms. I trust you can see yourself back to the cottage?”

  He dipped his head in solemn agreement. “Of course.”

  Fighting the urge to go to him, to wrap her arms around his neck and demand the embrace she so desperatel
y needed, she raised her chin. “In that case, I shall bid you good night.”

  His chocolate brown eyes found hers, and it was as if the strain she’d felt on her heart for the past six years eased its hold. Because there, in Lord Griffin’s gaze, was something she’d never seen before – something wonderfully empowering and rewarding that could only be described as deep admiration.

  The edge of his mouth lifted, curving with a hint of roguish solidarity that stirred deeper feelings to life. But since allowing herself to dwell on the secret desires he inspired in her with simply a smile would lead to nothing but disappointment, Emily forced herself to turn away.

  When she and her mother arrived upstairs after sending the coachman to lodge at the inn in the village, Emily showed her to Mary’s old room. Patsy would stay in one of the children’s bedchambers down the hall. “You still have not said why you chose to come here right after sending a letter informing me that you’d see me at Montvale in two weeks from now.”

  “Does my reason matter?” Georgina asked.

  “It might.”

  Georgina placed her valise on the bed with a snort. “I very much doubt that.”

  Emily chose to respond with a shrug. “Very well then.” She went to the door, eager to escape her mother’s company, only to pause there in thought. “Will Laura be all right?”

  “Time will tell, I suppose. But I do think my coming here will prevent unfavorable gossip. Your father is going to tell anyone who asks that you and I have decided to come here together.”

  Emily nodded. “If you need anything, I’m in the next room.”

  Her mother said nothing until Emily had almost shut the door behind her. And then she murmured, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Emily replied. The door clicked shut and she blew out a deep breath that seemed to sweep away all the tension she’d harbored inside her veins since her mother’s arrival. Drained and exhausted, she walked to her own room and prepared for bed.

  8

  Awakened by a bright beam of sunshine falling in through the window and onto her face, Emily blinked and pulled her quilt up over her head with a groan. She’d forgotten to close the curtains last night and was now paying the price, although judging from the color of the light, it was time for her to rise.

  With a sigh, she flung her quilt aside and pushed herself into a sitting position. She squinted, rubbed her eyes, and drew her hair back from her face. There were now three guests in her home, and all would have to be fed. She pondered that thought for a moment. Eggs and toast would be the simplest solution.

  Satisfied that she knew what to prepare, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and proceeded with her toilette. The chilly floor nipped at the soles of her feet, causing her toes to curl inward. So she washed quickly, tied her hair in a knot, and put on a long-sleeved day dress cut from faded burgondy cotton. Over her shoulders, she placed a fawn-colored shawl which she crossed over her breasts and tied at her back.

  She was just preparing to leave the room when she looked out the window and spotted Lord Griffin. Dressed in brown breeches and a jacket to match, he was walking away from the house at a brisk pace while carrying something in his arms. But before Emily had a chance to determine what the item might be, he was gone, vanishing behind a large rhododendron bush that stood at the edge of the garden.

  Emily turned from the window and went to prepare the breakfast. Her mother was still abed, which was something of a relief since Emily dreaded having to face her after the manner in which she’d addressed her the night before. A daughter did not speak to her mother with such disrespect. It simply wasn’t done. And yet, as she stoked the fire in the hearth and lit the oven, Emily reminded herself of Lord Griffin’s response. He had not been appalled or outraged by her manner. Quite the contrary. And as flattering as that had felt, it had also been liberating. Not only because she’d had his support, but because she’d had the courage to put the anger and pain her mother had caused into words. Forcing her to hear them had been the most cathartic experience of her life. She finally believed that there was a chance she could put the past behind her and move on, freer than ever before.

  Pleased by this awareness, she cooked six eggs and toasted some bread, placed everything on the frying pan and covered the food with a lid to keep it warm. Since Lord Griffin had not yet returned from his walk, she decided to go and see if she could find him and let him know that breakfast was ready.

  But when she crossed the grass and passed the rhododendron bush and the lake came into view, the sight that met her, of Lord Griffin’s lean body moving elegantly through the water, almost caused her to lose her footing. Discovering him like this was so far removed from what she’d been expecting that she could not have imagined it even if she’d tried.

  Caught between doing the right thing, which was to turn away, and the intense curiosity building inside her, Emily drew to a halt. She really ought to go back to the house and give him the privacy he deserved for his morning swim. But in spite of her good intentions, Emily’s feet were somehow stuck to the ground. In fact, she was fairly certain that even if a herd of cattle came charging toward her, she would not be able to move.

  So she stood, watching one arm sweep slowly up and over his head, muscles bunching briefly in his shoulders, before his hand reached into the water, propelling him fluidly forward. The other arm followed suit and then the pattern repeated with perfect timing as if he was silently pacing himself. Which Emily realized he must be when she noticed that he turned his head to breathe on exactly every fourth stroke. A shallow splashing of water accompanied his movements as he scissored his legs to aid his propulsion.

  Emily stared. For a man of his height and build, she would not have imagined him capable of such grace. When he reached the far embankment, he dove beneath the water to turn, coming back up with the agile dexterity of a man accustomed to being in the water. His dark brown hair, almost black now, was pushed back from his forehead by the water. The wetness made it gleam in the early morning light breaking through the branches of a nearby weeping willow. It also made Emily forget time and place. All that existed for her right now in this moment was him, his strength and agility so thoroughly engaging she could not think of anything else.

  Until he suddenly stood, rising up under a cascade of water that poured down his neck and over his shoulders. And then his eyes met hers.

  With a gasp of awareness, Emily spun to the right, hiding behind the wide trunk of an oak.

  “Miss Howard?” She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut in a silly attempt to escape reality. “I know you are there.” When she stayed out of sight he spoke a bit louder. “You cannot honestly think that I failed to see you?”

  “I was hoping you might have.” Opening her eyes, she rolled them and muttered a curse, then stepped out from behind the oak.

  The problem with this was that Lord Griffin had not remained where he was but had risen further out of the lake, putting his toned chest and well-defined abdomen on very prominent display.

  Unwittingly, Emily’s gaze dipped lower, to where his body disappeared beneath the surface of the water. A flare of heat rose to her cheeks while hot little embers pricked at her skin, exacerbated by her knowledge that he was probably completely undressed.

  She glanced away, unable to look directly at him, until he quietly asked, “Were you spying on me?” Which naturally caused her to meet his gaze directly and with no small amount of chagrin.

  For a brief second as she stood there, staring back into his intensely dark eyes, she was tempted to lie. “No,” she wanted to say. “Of course not.” Perhaps with an added, “How dare you suggest such a thing?”

  But then she reminded herself of their agreement and raised her chin instead. Crossing her arms, she told him honestly, “Yes.”

  His eyebrows rose and his lips parted a fraction – just enough to convey his surprise. And then he laughed, not with humor but with the sort of devilish amusement that Emily imagined mus
t be reserved for only the wickedest scoundrels. It suggested that his thoughts had turned very sinful indeed.

  “I cannot help but marvel at your candor,” he murmured in a low, seductive tone. “And your curiosity is certainly inspiring.”

  His eyes darkened as he took a step forward. The water slid away from the lower part of his chest, revealing his navel.

  Emily stared even as she took a step back.

  “I wonder,” Lord Griffin said as another stride offered a view of his hip, “how far this curiosity of yours,” his other hip appeared along with a narrow dart of black hair leading down over his pelvis, “will take you.”

  Emily closed her eyes, her mortification stomping out all of her courage. “I just came to tell you that breakfast is ready. I’m sorry for the intrusion which wasn’t...” She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, before she turned on her heel and hurried back to the house, as she ought to have done when she’d first seen him.

  But when she arrived in the kitchen, she was met by chaos. Her mother was busily rummaging through cabinets and drawers while boiling water overflowed from the kettle. The flames beneath it hissed in response, puffing out steam that thickened the air.

  Emily grabbed a dishtowel, then snatched the kettle from its spot above the fire. “Mama. What on earth is going on?”

  Georgina spun toward her with an expression that bordered between concentration and panic. “I need tea. I’ve never started a day without it and have no intention of doing so now.” Straightening, she placed one hand on her hip and glanced at the hearth as if it were her worst enemy. “Since you weren’t anywhere to be found, I was forced to take matters into my own hands.”

  “I can see that.” Emily placed the kettle on the counter and went to retrieve the tin in which tea was kept. She fetched the teapot next and proceeded to make the hot beverage her mother required. “Could Patsy not have helped you?”