Page 33 of The Truth about the Rogue
“Please, do tell us your thoughts, Miss Hawick.”
Her eyes caught his for a brief moment.
“Are you quite certain that you wish to hear my opinion?”
Lord Glenfield chuckled.
“Even if he does not, I should be glad to.”
This made Miss Hawick smile and, much to Andrew’s surprise, jealousy ran right through him, stealing his breath for a moment. He blinked and then looked away, frowning hard at his own, unexpected, reaction.
“Then I shall say that I think it a most unexpected poem, so different from the others that I wonder if it is by the same author!” Miss Hawick spread out her hands. “This does not speak of love, not in the way that one would expect, at least, but there is certainly a good deal of honesty within those words, I think.” Her hands fell back to her sides. “To my mind, it has a greater reach in its emotion, speaking truth through carefully chosen words. I think I prefer it to the other poems thus far - though, as I have said, I do not know if it is by the same author.”
“It is.”
The words flung themselves from Andrew’s mouth before he could prevent them, seeing not only Miss Hawick looking at him in surprise but also Lord Glenfield, clearly astonished that he was being so bold.
“That is to say, I know who the author is, and I can assure you, it is the very same person,” Andrew clarified, heat beginning to build in his chest and spread up towards his neck. “I am certain that he will be glad to hear that you have enjoyed it, Miss Hawick. How thetonshall consider it remains to be seen!”
“And with that, I must take my leave and speak with your sister, Miss Hawick.” Lord Glenfield smiled and inclined his head. “Good afternoon.”
Andrew stepped back towards Miss Hawick and, almost before he had offered her his arm, her hand had reached towards him, as though she was now expecting him to be there. A small smile played about his lips as they began to walk together again,and he felt as though a bridge had begun to be built between them, as though a vast chasm was slowly being closed. Thinking of her reaction to his poem made that smile grow all the more and, though the silence between them continued, Andrew’s heart lifted with a sense of contentment and happiness.
It was all most extraordinary.
Chapter Eleven
Ten days later.
“You and Ihave been spending a good deal of our time together these last few days.”
Charlotte turned to glance into Lord Kentmore’s eyes, finding her senses stirred whenever she did so.
“Yes, that is true.”
“Tell me.” He winked at her, and instantly, Charlotte’s entire body felt itself engulfed in flame. “Am I at all improved in your opinion?”
The heat which had been in Charlotte’s frame now rose into her cheeks. She was not quite certain what to say and instead, turned her attention back to the rows of books before them.
“It is a strange thing to want to know, Lord Kentmore.”
The gentleman chuckled, making Charlotte smile despite her own sense of uncertainty. Her reactions to Lord Kentmore were becoming more and more altered with every minute spent in his company though she did not want to make him aware of that. Nor, in fact, did she even want to admit it to herself!
“It may show my arrogance, yes?” Lord Kentmore sighed heavily. “I suppose that is not something I had considered.” The smile on his lips began to fade away, though his gaze lingered on hers. “Truth be told, Miss Hawick, I find myself in a state which I never once dreamed I would be in. I am no longer acting as a rogue but instead I am committed only to one courtship! I understand that our connection was not something you desired, was not something that you hoped for, but all the same, given that we are now bound together, I wondered if you had felt any happier. That is what my concern is.”
Much to Charlotte’s surprise, his hand reached out and caught hers, though it was only for a moment. She blinked quickly, turning her head away from his, finding their connected gaze a little too intense, given all that she was now feeling. Could she believe him in this? Could she be certain that what he said truly was genuine? Did he really consider her happiness, or was it that he was seeking only to improve himself in her opinion in the hope of garnering her contentment for when he chose to return to his roguish ways?
“You are going to remain silent and leave my heart to suffer, I see.” Lord Kentmore sighed heavily and put one hand to his heart. “It is just as the poem said in The London Chronicle, ‘the ache of my heart is constant and prolonged, the path before me lit by my wrongs.’”
Charlotte laughed softly, finding the strength to look back at him without her face burning hot.
“Very well, Lord Kentmore,” she said, turning to face him. “Yes, I am a little happier. You appear not to be as despicable a character as I first thought you.”
Lord Kentmore winced but grinned.
“That is comforting, I think.”
“I did not expect you to have a love of art,” Charlotte continued, as his eyes searched hers. “That has been interesting to me.”
