More Than a Rogue

by Sophie Barnes

  “I sent her to post a letter to your father.”

  “Before breakfast?”

  “Of course not, dear. I’m not that awful. She found the eggs and toast and made a sandwich that she could eat on the way.”

  “Hmm…”

  “This is good,” Mrs. Howard murmured a few moments later after the tea had steeped and she was able to take her first sip from the cup that Emily had prepared. She took another and sighed, then set the cup aside and considered her daughter. “I’m sorry I made a mess.”

  “It’s all right.” Emily closed the drawers and cabinets her mother had opened, arranged two plates with the eggs and toast she’d made earlier, and went to join her at the table.

  Her mother stared at the plate before her while Emily made a cup of tea for herself. “Did you really cook this?”

  Picking up her teacup, Emily cradled it between her hands while blowing softly to cool the drink before taking a sip. “I don’t have a cook hiding somewhere in a closet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Her mother raised her gaze slowly and when her eyes met Emily’s there was something new there – something far more meaningful than surprise. “I must say that I’m rather impressed.”

  Emily’s chest tightened. “Thank you,” she rasped, covering the emotion her voice betrayed with another quick sip of her tea. She set her cup aside and reached for the butter.

  “Will Lord Griffin not be joining us?”

  Emily paused. “I…um…I do not know.”

  “I’m only thinking that it would be rude of us to start without him.”

  “Right.” Emily retrieved her hand. She’d hoped to finish breakfast and remove herself from the kitchen before Lord Griffin arrived. Facing him now, after their most recent interaction, would only make her uncomfortable. And besides, if she wasn’t busy eating, she would have to face the silence now hanging between herself and her mother.

  Too much resentment had built up between them over the years, crushing every chance they might have had of getting along. Emily leaned back in her seat with a sigh. When Langdon had broken things off, she’d known she’d lost her chance of marriage and children forever.

  Of course, her mother had disagreed. She’d simply ordered up another bright gown – a lime green horror of a dress – and told Emily to keep on trying. Instead she’d shoved the dress into her dustbin and accepted Cassandra’s invitation to join her at Clearview.

  The door opened and Lord Griffin stepped in, distracting Emily from her thoughts. His hair was damp and mussed in a way that made him look wonderfully attractive. But unlike earlier, he was now properly dressed. Even his neck was hidden beneath a perfectly knotted cravat.

  “Good morning, ladies.” He closed the door behind him and approached the table. “I hope you can forgive my delay in joining you.”

  “Of course,” Emily told him as she went to prepare his plate.

  He waited for her to place it before him and to resume her seat before claiming his own, his knee brushing hers beneath the table in a manner that made her heart jolt. “Nevertheless, I would ask you not to wait for me in the future.” He watched while she poured him a cup of tea, her hand made a little unsteady by his perusal. Thanking her in a low, sensual murmur that caused her belly to shudder with pleasure, he turned his attention on Emily’s mother. “I hope you slept well last night.”

  “Oh, indeed.” Georgina took a few bites of food. “The room I’ve been given is incredibly comfortable, and this breakfast is most delicious.” She stuck another piece of egg in her mouth and chewed before saying, “I was not aware that my daughter is so very capable.”

  “Circumstance forced me to acquire some necessary skills,” Emily told her. Even though she’d meant for her words to be a statement of fact, she failed to stop them from sounding bitter.

  Her mother pressed her lips together and nodded. “Of course.” She lowered her gaze and proceeded to cut her toast into tiny pieces. “I did not mean to sound condescending, Emily, but rather to compliment you on what you have accomplished.”

  “It is no more than what most women manage to do every day when they can’t afford servants.”

  A gust of uncomfortable silence swept through the kitchen, and Emily bowed her head, regretting the haste with which she’d just spoken. She wished she could simply accept her mother’s rare praise with gratitude, but the grievance she felt was too deeply ingrained and not easily overcome.

  “True,” Lord Griffin said when Emily was sure she would have to endure the rest of the breakfast with no other sound but the scraping of silverware to keep her company, “but you were raised in an upper class household, Miss Howard. So as your mother correctly points out, you have proved you are able to adjust to new ways of life in a manner I’m sure most young ladies of similar backgrounds would balk at.”

  “Perhaps,” Emily agreed, not liking the smallness that filled her conscience on account of his pleasantly spoken reprimand.

  “As a matter of fact, I am equally impressed. Especially by your modesty.”

  “My modesty?” Emily choked, coughing on the end of her words. Did he really have to mock her as well?

  “You turned your back on the easy path and chose to scale a mountain instead.” His voice was gentle, tender even, and so beguiling it forced her to meet his gaze. And in his eyes she saw only warmth and…something she would have labeled as affection if she hadn’t known better. “Your mother knows it wasn’t easy, yet you persevered and succeeded, proving that you can do anything you set your mind to.” He smiled, causing Emily’s heart to expand with pleasure. And then he leaned back, took a sip of his tea, and added, “I believe that is what she was trying to tell you.”

  “Quite right,” Georgina agreed. “Thank you for being more eloquent than I have ever managed. My own parents always taught me to be direct for the sake of efficiency, but that can be a disadvantage sometimes.”

  Lord Griffin chuckled as if he actually enjoyed Georgina’s company. “You should know that your daughter has also inherited that trait— a propensity for directness, that is, though in a slightly different capacity.”

  “How so?” Georgina asked, her eyes bright with interest.

  Emily stared at her and then at Lord Griffin, incredulous at their relaxed manner when she herself felt as though she was strung as tight as a bow.

  “She speaks her mind,” Lord Griffin said. “Which is not only admirable, but also extremely attractive.”

  Emily’s mouth dropped open. He had not just said that. Had he?

  Judging from the gleam now brightening her mother’s eyes, it would seem that he had. Emily groaned. Was he deliberately trying to undermine their efforts to avoid getting married?

  “Attractive?” Georgina echoed with a slight crease to her brow. “You find opinionated young women attractive?”

  Emily smiled. Finally. Lord Griffin had found a topic on which the two would never agree. To her mother’s way of thinking, a young lady had only one purpose besides getting married, and that was to show off all her accomplishments while refraining from speaking as much as possible.

  “A person’s opinion is the best indication of their intelligence,” Lord Griffin murmured. “In my experience, foolish people either have no opinion at all, or they tend to babble on endlessly without ever making their point clear. So when making a new acquaintance, I always strive to consider opinion. After all, it is the quickest way to determine compatibility.”

  “I see.” Georgina’s satisfaction with Griffin’s response was clear in the way she smiled.

  Seeing straight through to the plan forming in her head, of Lord Griffin and Emily getting married despite their protestations, Emily chose to change the subject immediately. “We have dinner plans on Friday at a nearby estate.” She explained how she and Lord Griffin had met the Partridges in town and that both had appeared to believe he was Caleb.

  “So you wish for me to lie?” Georgina asked in dismay. “To a lady and gentleman?”


  “You may remain here if you prefer,” Emily offered, but her mother quickly dismissed that idea.

  “Since this is a matter of protecting our entire family’s reputation, I shall find a way to overcome my aversion in order to do what I must. And I do believe my presence will add credibility to your story.”

  Lord Griffin pushed his empty plate and cup aside so he could lean forward with his folded arms on the table. “I completely agree.”

  “Do you have something appropriate to wear to this event?” Georgina asked Emily.

  Emily stiffened. She hadn’t packed before leaving London, so the only evening gown she had at Clearview was the one she’d been wearing when she’d arrived two days earlier. Salvaging that disaster was out of the question. “I’ve a respectable dress cut from cornflower blue muslin. It will suffice.”

  “For a dinner party hosted by gentry?” Her mother shook her head. “On no, my dear, that will not do at all. You must wear silk. So if you haven’t such a gown, then I suggest we order one today from the local modiste. I shall need one as well, of course. And you mustn’t worry about the cost. It shall be my treat.” She stood, so Lord Griffin rose as well. “And what of you, sir? Have you the appropriate evening attire required, or will you join us for this excursion so you can visit the tailor?”

  “I will happily escort you both.”

  “Excellent. Then I shall go and ready myself immediately.” She looked to Emily whose jaw was starting to ache from gnashing her teeth. “Thank you for breakfast. I found it to be most satisfying.”

  Emily was tempted to tell her the dishes now had to be washed. Instead she kept quiet, holding back her emotions just like a corked bottle of champagne forced back the pressure bubbling within.

  To say that the relationship between Miss Howard and her mother was strained would be an understatement of monumental proportions. Griffin waited quietly until Mrs. Howard had left the kitchen before returning his attention to her daughter with every intention of addressing the issue.

  Except she spoke first, reminding him of the point he’d been trying to make about her outspokenness. He still wasn’t sure he’d phrased himself correctly. At least not well enough to convey the extent of his admiration for this woman who’d been released into London ballrooms by her over-eager mama. The mission had been the same as it was for all other debutantes, only Emily’s chances of success had been greatly reduced by the very same person who’d wanted her to succeed. And as a result, Emily had failed at the one thing she’d been expected to do, which was marry well.

  Anyone else in her position would have been crushed by the adversity, but not Miss Howard. She had the strength and perseverance of a warrior princess.

  “What. Are. You. Doing?” Fire burned in her eyes, not the kind brought on by desire, but the kind that warned of impending battle.

  Griffin found it equally arousing, his focus momentarily wavering on account of the heat charging through his veins. It was not dissimilar to what he’d felt when he’d found her watching him during his swim. He knew he’d pushed her comfort to the limit when he’d challenged her curiosity, but he hadn’t been able to resist the opportunity. Something about her made him want to be reckless.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, forcing his mind back to her question.

  She glared at him, which only made his muscles draw tight with anticipation. “My mother is first and foremost a meddler, and you were encouraging her at every opportunity.”

  “By being nice to her?”

  Emily pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “No. By supporting her arguments and speaking too highly of me.”

  It took some effort not to laugh, but Griffin managed and affected a serious expression instead. “I hope you can forgive the compliment.”

  A hint of humor tugged at her lips, but rather than surrender to it, she fought it and won. “You do not know her as well as I do. She will consider your praise to be a sign of interest. In me. And once she does so, she will be more determined than ever to see us wed.”

  “I see,” Griffin murmured, pretending that this was indeed the most dire outcome he could possibly imagine. But the truth was slightly different. For some odd reason, he was no longer repelled by the idea of having to make Miss Howard his bride. Not even under duress.

  In fact, the biggest problem was not so much having to marry her, were it to come to that, but the responsibilities he’d left behind in Austria. Prolonging his stay in England indefinitely wasn’t an option, which meant he would soon have to stick with his plan and depart.

  He eyed the stern set of Miss Howard’s jaw, the displeased line of her mouth, and the sharp irritation that pushed back the brown in her eyes and turned them a bright shade of green. “Have you ever considered travelling?” he asked, the question springing from his throat and catching him slightly by surprise.

  She shook her head. “No. Not really.”

  “Would you like to?” he pressed.

  “I’m not sure,” she said with a frown. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  She snorted. “I do not believe that you’re being honest with me.”

  His stomach muscles tightened and his heart beat slightly faster. Not with excitement but with a different kind of sensation – one he had not experienced in years. Griffin swallowed, a little distressed by the realization that he was nervous: nervous that she would discover his true line of thinking and nervous that she’d be appalled by the idea of actually becoming his wife.

  “You’re trying to distract me by changing the conversation to something else,” she said before he could offer an honest explanation.

  The breath he’d been holding rushed from his lungs, removing the strain on his nerves. He forced a mischievous smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m not very fond of being told off.”

  “I wasn’t…” She sighed in response to his raised eyebrow. “Very well. Can we simply agree that you should stop providing my mother with reasons to not only like you but to imagine she has a chance of forcing a match?”

  “Certainly.” He would not reveal that he planned to secretly court her anyway. Not when she was so clearly opposed. He’d been too, until recently. But then he’d realized a few intriguing things, like the fact that she drove him mad with desire, that he loved simply talking to her, and that he was reluctant to leave her company.

  And then there was the surge of jealousy he’d felt when he’d seen Mr. Partridge showing an interest in her. Just the idea of Miss Howard so much as touching another man made him want to hit something. Because if there was one truth that rang loud and clear above everything else, it was that he wanted her for himself.

  Forever.

  9

  The outing to town was not as terrible as Emily expected it to be. Her mother did not insist on orange or yellow fabric during their visit to the modiste. Not even lime green was suggested. But when Emily gave her attention to a purple silk that slid sensually over her fingers as she touched it, her mother said she believed it a shade too dark for her skin.

  Instead, she brought Emily’s attention to a crimson silk that begged to be turned into an elegant gown. “I cannot possibly,” Emily murmured even as she ran her fingers over the supple surface. “The color is far too bold.”

  “No more so than the purple one you were just considering.”

  True. “This one just seems more scandalous somehow.”

  Her mother made a face that informed Emily she was being ridiculous. “For a debutante perhaps, but you are an older woman, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. Your age cannot be debated.” She held the fabric up next to Emily’s face while they stood before a long mirror. “It’s perfect. Truly. The sort of color that is sure to get you noticed.”

  Emily considered the fabric. Ordering an evening gown made from it was incredibly tempting. And yet, Emily knew that her mother’s motive in suggesting the fabric was solely to secure Lord Griffin’s attention. And this gave her pause. �
�It is just a dinner party, Mama. There is no need for me to stand out.”

  “Of course not.” Her mother pulled the fabric away and returned it to the shelf where she’d found it. She then picked up a cream-colored silk and handed it to Emily. “Perhaps this would be better?”

  Compared with the crimson, the cream looked impossibly dull and uninteresting. Still, Emily held it up to her face and considered the option. “No,” she admitted after a second. “I do not like it.” Not now that the bright red fabric was stuck in her head.

  “Why not have another look around then. Perhaps a different color will strike your fancy, like green or blue?” When Emily failed to find another color she liked, her mother reached for the purple silk that Emily had initially selected. “I think you ought to ignore my opinion since it has been wrong so often before. If this is the fabric you like, then that is the one you should choose.”

  Except it no longer held appeal. In fact, as Emily considered it once again, it did look too dark against her skin. She glanced across at the crimson silk neatly resting on a nearby shelf and made her decision. Twenty minutes later, after deciding on a pattern, having measurements taken and offering to pay the dressmaker double for expedited service, Emily excited the dressmaker’s together with her mother and went to meet Lord Griffin.

  They found him at the tailor where he was just finishing up his order of evening attire. “It ought to be ready by Friday morning,” he said, addressing both Emily and her mother.

  “Just like our gowns,” Emily said.

  He smiled. “A convenience to be sure since we shall be able to pick up everything during one trip.”

  “Speaking of trips,” Georgina said, “I want to propose that we offer the cottage at Clearview to my coachman. Having him at the house will make it easier for him to take us wherever we need to go at only a moment’s notice.”

  “But Lord Griffin is staying there, Mama.”

  “Yes. And that was both correct and necessary when it was just the two of you. But now that I am here, I see no reason why we cannot move Lord Griffin to one of the bedchambers inside the house.”