More Than a Rogue

by Sophie Barnes

  His admission almost slayed her. It also piqued her curiosity. “How so?” She asked the question without even thinking.

  Excitement flickered in his eyes, and he stepped toward her, reminding her of the visceral effect he had on her as her pulse leapt in response to their increased proximity. “You’ve rewritten the ending of Romeo and Juliet.” He said it as if she’d solved the secrets of alchemy.

  Emily nodded. His enthusiasm was dazzling. She shrugged one shoulder, pretending indifference. “Hamlet too.”

  He stared at her. “Really?”

  “In a different notebook. I...” She could no longer ward off the self-consciousness that had threatened to swamp her since realizing he’d discovered her hobby. Her cheeks heated, but she didn’t look away. “I wanted them all to live happily ever after.”

  His amazement showed in his abrupt laughter. He shook his head. “With a cocker spaniel, apparently,” he said, referring to Romeo and Juliet. “And three children.”

  “It seemed to fit.”

  Griffin’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but I actually agree.”

  “You do?” She glanced back at her notebook. The idea to rewrite the ending of several tragedies had been a lark. She’d done it for herself, not because she’d ever planned on sharing it with anyone.

  “It’s not only well written, but funny. I particularly liked the banter between the characters.”

  “You didn’t find it ridiculous?”

  “Of course I did, but that’s what makes it so great.” He knit his brow. “Unless that wasn’t your intention.”

  “No. I...” Words failed her. The connection she felt to him right now was beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

  “And how did Hamlet and Ophelia fare?” he asked, eyes gleaming with interest.

  A smile tugged at her lips as she thought back on her first attempt at crafting a happy ever after. “They decided to exchange the castle for a modest countryside manor where daffodils bloom in the spring and peonies in early summer.”

  “Those are your favorite flowers as I recall.”

  She laughed, too quickly and with too much force. “Of course they are. This is after all a story of my imagination.” He gave her an odd look, prompting her to add, “Ophelia also discovers that she’s a fine cook. Which reminds me that I have yet to thank you for breakfast. It was excellent, by the way. Especially the sausages. I don’t believe I’ve ever had such a perfectly cooked sausage before.” Dear God. She was babbling and she wasn’t sure why.

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I—”

  “About last night,” Griffin murmured before she could compliment him on his well-balanced use of salt and pepper.

  Emily glanced at the door. Perhaps she wasn’t so brave after all.

  “Yes,” she rushed to say, stepping back further. “We should certainly discuss it.”

  His expression grew wary. “I think—”

  A knock at the front door came as a welcome interruption. “Excuse me.” Emily turned, hurrying from the room and toward whoever it was that had arrived with such perfect timing.

  She opened the door and was greeted by a messenger who handed her a letter. “From Partridge House,” he said.

  Emily glanced at the shiny red seal bearing David Partridge’s initials. Her shoulders tensed with a curious sense of unease. The messenger cleared his throat and Emily flinched. She retrieved a couple of pennies and paid the man, who gave his thanks before continuing on his way.

  After shutting the door, Emily leaned back against it and stared at the letter. She wasn’t sure why it troubled her or why she wasn’t tearing it open to discover its contents. Her mother entered from the kitchen while Griffin arrived from the library. Both watched her curiously.

  “Well?” Her mother finally asked. “Who was at the door?”

  “A messenger.” She looked at her because looking at Griffin had suddenly become rather difficult. “He brought a letter for me. From Mr. David Partridge.”

  “Indeed?” Her mother’s voice rose on a wave of excitement. “Well aren’t you going to open it?”

  “I…” She forced her gaze to Griffin then, meeting a pair of dark eyes that threatened to burn her with their intensity. In his hand, he held her notebook.

  “You forgot this,” he said, holding it toward her.

  She considered the distance she’d have to walk in order to retrieve it. It suddenly seemed so far – as if it would take her forever to travel the ten feet between them. Mouth dry and hands clammy, she started walking, uncomfortably aware of her mother’s scrutiny.

  Georgina huffed out a breath. “How can retrieving a book be more urgent than learning the contents of a newly arrived letter?”

  Emily couldn’t explain it, but she knew that going to Griffin now would prove that he mattered more, that Mr. David Partridge wasn’t a threat, that last night’s kiss was important.

  She took the book from him as soon as it was within her reach. “Thank you.”

  His eyes remained fixed upon her the whole time.

  “The letter, Emily,” her mother insisted, her voice breaking through the dazed effect Griffin had on her.

  Emily blinked. “Yes of course.” She tucked the book under her arm and slid her thumb beneath the seal to break it. The crisp paper crackled between her fingers as she unfolded it, her heart fluttering with the awareness that Griffin was watching and waiting.

  “He thanks us for a pleasant evening,” she said after scanning the first two lines, “and looks forward to seeing us again.”

  “What else?” Her mother had moved to Emily’s side and was now leaning in, attempting to glimpse Mr. Partridge’s words herself.

  Emily straightened the paper and turned it slightly away from her mother’s inquisitive gaze. “He says he plans to visit one of the orphanages he’s supporting next month and hopes to find us in London at that time so he can call on us.”

  “Oh!” Georgina squeaked the word and clapped her hands together. “His interest in you is clear.”

  “But unreciprocated.” Emily folded the letter and tucked it in her pocket. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “He could be your last chance.” The words, as kind as Emily knew they were meant to be, stabbed at her heart. She tightened her jaw and bit back the sharp rejoinder that instinctively rose up her throat. “Then that is a chance I am willing to take.”

  “Lord Griffin. Perhaps you—”

  “Don’t.” Emily glared at her mother, watching as she shrank back with a muttered apology. She would not let her interfere where Griffin was concerned. Not when he and she had agreed that marriage wasn’t an option. Not when she knew he would only commit to such a thing out of duty. Not when he didn’t love her. “You must stop trying to pawn me off and accept the fact that I will not marry.”

  “I just want you to be happy,” her mother whispered.

  Emily reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I already am.”

  “If that is true, then I am happy for you.” Her mother’s lips stretched, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Bowing her head as if to hide her real thoughts on the matter, she retreated to the kitchen.

  Emily looked at Griffin, still standing there in the library doorway, a silent spectator to her humiliation. “I am sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Your mother is just trying to do what she believes to be best for you.” His brow puckered slightly. “You should not be so hard on her, Emily.”

  “But—”

  “I need to get back to the painting if I am to finish before we leave for Montvale.”

  He turned away and disappeared back into the library. One second later, the door closed behind him, leaving Emily standing alone in the empty hallway. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she sensed that she’d somehow managed to ruin things between them. Why else would his comment make her feel so small? Why else would watching him walk away leave her empty inside and more lonely than e
ver before?

  There was no mistaking Emily. She’d very clearly pronounced that she had no intention of marrying anyone. Ever. Griffin speared his hair with his fingers and tried to stay calm.

  Not an easy task when he wanted to overturn furniture and punch holes in things. What the hell? He would have bet money that the kiss they’d shared last night would have changed her mind. It had certainly stripped away any doubts he might have had and put everything into very sharp focus. In fact, the more he’d considered it, the more certain he’d been that asking Emily to be his wife was the best way forward. Until she’d snatched away any hope he’d had of her saying yes.

  Damn!

  A raw ache pulled at his gut—the fear of losing what he now wanted the most. Her.

  He wanted her in his bed, as passionate and eager as she’d been last night. His muscles flexed in response to the image forming in his head, of creamy curves sprawled out on satiny sheets and a coy smile inviting him closer.

  Reaching out, he steadied himself against a bookcase while trying to catch his breath. What the devil had Emily Howard done to him?

  The answer shot through him with simple precision. She’d been unpretentious and bold, courageously honest, principled and...wonderfully different. She spoke her mind without being dismissive, was modest, good natured, and optimistically inclined. And when she met his gaze with a smile, it was as if she wrapped her arms around his soul and gave it warmth.

  Which was a perfectly ludicrous notion, of course.

  In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was losing his mind.

  He closed his eyes on a sigh, pushing the tension out of his lungs. Two weeks ago his aversion to marriage had been indisputable. He’d deliberately avoided the unmarried ladies, had taken care not to give the wrong impression about his availability. And now, ironically, he was the one who was eager to put a ring on his finger while the woman he’d set his sights on had decided that marrying was no longer something she wished to accomplish.

  And yet...

  He dropped his gaze to the spot on the table where her notebook had been just a half hour earlier. The writing had been charming and witty, but most especially romantic. It wasn’t what one would expect from a woman who’d turned her back on marriage, but rather from one who still dreamed.

  The personal touches were further indications of this, like the daffodils and peonies, the country manor and the cooking. Griffin wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Emily’s ideal life included three children and a cocker spaniel as well.

  He smiled, liking that thought. And then he frowned. Because if marriage was something she actually wanted, then why did she keep on insisting it wasn’t? Griffin wasn’t sure he could answer that question correctly. All he knew was that Emily was free to make her own choices and that he had given her no cause to think that marrying him might be an option. Even though he’d kissed her.

  Hell, she believed he had every intention of leaving England at the first available opportunity. Which had been his plan. Until his life had been turned upside down.

  He shook his head, befuddled by the depth of emotion she’d managed to awake in him. Joy and anxiety fizzed through his veins. He had to do what he’d meant to do earlier when the messenger’s arrival had stopped him from revealing the yearnings of his heart. He had to find the opportunity to tell her how much she’d come to mean to him. It was the only way forward and the best chance they had of forming a permanent attachment.

  Through honesty.

  13

  They arrived at Montvale two days later. The journey had been uneventful. Emily had tried to sleep most of the way, or had at least pretended to do so for the sake of avoiding Griffin’s attention. Since their conversation in the library, he’d been trying to get her alone, insisting that there was something they needed to discuss.

  Emily could only imagine. The poor man obviously felt obliged to offer for her hand after the passionate kiss they’d shared. She could see it in his almost pained expression whenever he looked at her. But she would not let him make such an unnecessary sacrifice. Especially not when she feared she might actually accept his proposal. And then where would they be? He would be forced into the very state he wanted to avoid while she’d have a husband who would never reciprocate her love.

  It would be an intolerable arrangement.

  So each time he tried to pull her aside, she avoided him under the pretext of needing to complete a chore or having to pack. By the time he’d helped her into the carriage yesterday morning, he’d been scowling at her. And of course, for some absurd reason, this had only increased her awareness of him. Even as she’d turned her head into her corner of the carriage and closed her eyes in an effort to sleep, she’d felt his presence all around. His voice, as he conversed with her mother, had slid over every curve of her body like intimate caresses impossible to ignore.

  It had been both lovely and irritating at the same time, leaving Emily in something of a bother by the time she alit from the carriage at Montvale. Griffin offered his assistance, his hand closing firmly around hers in a way that caused sparks to ignite in the pit of her belly. Her breath hitched, more so when he moved in closer to her person.

  “We must speak, Emily. You cannot avoid me forever.” His voice was raspy and strained, like a blade grinding over a whetstone.

  “Of course,” she said, attempting a breezy tone that sounded a little too squeaky to her ears. “I am ready whenever you are.”

  The low growl of disagreement with which he responded to that comment tickled her insides and sent little shivers scurrying over her shoulders. She raised her chin and took a step forward, deliberately adding distance so she could gather her scattered thoughts. Having him near was like over-imbibing. It muddled her head and prevented her from simple reasoning.

  Thankfully, Mary and Caleb appeared at that moment, both coming down the front steps of the house in order to greet them. They were followed by Cassandra and the children who raced past Mary, whooping until they reached Emily, their arms enfolding her in a hug as they piled around her.

  Emily laughed in response. She’d not expected such a boisterous welcome and found herself swept off her feet by it, the joy these children provided bubbling up inside like rich champagne. She hugged them close and kissed the tops of their heads while assuring them that she’d missed them all just as much as they had missed her.

  “Goodness, Bridget,” Mary chided in a mild tone, “you must release poor Emily so she can move. You too, Edward. One would think you haven’t seen her in years.”

  “We’re not used to not having her around,” Daphne explained as she caught Emily’s hand in a grip surprisingly tight for a girl of her age.

  “I wasn’t around when we were in London either,” Emily reminded them as she gazed into their upturned faces. Peter was almost the same height as she now. Another year and he would most likely surpass her. A curious tightness squeezed at her throat on that thought. She cleared it quickly to add, “If you will recall, you remained with Cassandra at Coventry House while I stayed with my parents.”

  “Yes. But we saw each other every day,” Penelope said.

  Bridget nodded in firm agreement of this fact. “So we could accept your absences there.”

  “But then you left for Clearview without even saying goodbye,” Edward said with a hint of accusation in his young voice.

  Oh dear.

  Emily sought out Mary and Cassandra, hoping they’d step in and offer their help. She’d no idea how they had explained her sudden departure from London to the children.

  “If you will recall, Emily had to take care of a few things before coming here,” Cassandra said.

  “What things?” Peter asked with the deductive alertness of a boy who was not easily fooled by anything.

  “Mrs. Howard,” Caleb said, directing attention away from Emily and toward her mother instead. “Allow me to introduce you to the children who have been in your daughter’s care.” His no nonsense voice
forced the squabble back into order, and as he called out each name, each child stepped forward with either a bow or a curtsey.

  “I am so pleased to make your acquaintances at last,” Georgina informed them with a delight that Emily found surprising. In London, her mother had given no indication of wanting to meet them, but she supposed a lot had changed since then. They’d made peace for one thing, forgiving each other for things that should have been put behind them years ago.

  Grinning, Caleb gave his attention to Griffin next while Cassandra and Mary ushered Emily toward the front steps of the house. “You will tell us everything, won’t you?” Mary whispered as they entered the foyer.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Emily said.

  Cassandra snorted. “You’re a terrible liar.” When Emily raised an eyebrow, her friend said, “Your cheeks have turned scarlet. I can barely see anything else in this dim interior.”

  Stepping away from them, Emily patted her cheeks in an effort to cool them. They did feel rather hot and grew increasingly so when Griffin stepped through the door, his gaze meeting hers with unnerving swiftness. Emily glanced away and proceeded to take off her bonnet, which she handed to the waiting butler. She caught a suspicious glance from Cassandra, but was thankfully saved from further scrutiny when Bridget and Daphne began asking if it was time to go in to tea yet.

  “Cook has made strawberry tarts in preparation for your arrival,” Penelope explained. “We’re all very eager to enjoy them.”

  “By all means then,” Georgina declared. “Lead the way.”

  “You wouldn’t rather go freshen up a bit after the journey?” Mary asked.

  “I’m not sure the children can wait,” Georgina said with a grin.

  Once again, Emily was struck by how happy and relaxed her mother appeared. The almost stern and opinionated woman she’d always known had been utterly transformed. It was remarkable to see. She shared a smile with Mary and Cassandra before following the crowd into the parlor where the tea and tarts stood ready.

  Another hour passed before Emily was able to see her allotted bedchamber. Thankfully, the children were too busy savoring their treats and playing with Bridget’s pet cat to ask any more uncomfortable questions. And since Cass and Mary kept Emily occupied with accounts of what they’d been up to recently, she was saved from having to talk about Griffin. Until her bedchamber door closed behind her and she found herself quite alone with her friends.