Page 36 of The Truth about the Rogue
“I have no intention of doing so, no.”
“Then you might consider betrothal?” the other fellow said, as Andrew’s frown grew darker, his heart squeezing.
“I think that is something that the Marquess can decide for himself, including when it is that he wishes to speak of it.”
Much to Andrew’s relief, Lord Glenfield came to Andrew’s rescue, so that he did not have to give any sort of explanation.
“Though you must see how extraordinary it is for you to now be courting a young lady!” Lord Telford interjected, just as Andrew had been about to change the conversation entirely. “You were behaving just as you always have done, up until a few weeks ago, and now you are entirely altered! Little wonder that there are some who are saying that your absence from society once that announcement had been made was an indication that you had no real interest in the lady. That is why they are now waiting for you to make an end of the courtship, given that, by now, you have probably enjoyed all the fun that you can take from that connection.”
Andrew scowled.
“I do not behave improperly in any way with Miss Hawick,” he said, a twist of anger in his voice which made the smile on Lord Telford’s face crumple. “Be assured of that.”
Lord Telford looked away and a strained silence grew between them, making Andrew’s face grow hot. With a look at Lord Glenfield, he excused himself from the group, quite certain that there would be more conversation about him after he had left.
The situation with Miss Hawick was something that he was trying very hard to put from his mind, though he was struggling to do so, unfortunately. The way that she had looked into his eyes, the desire within him to pull her close, and the connection between them which had been developing in its intensity, was making his heart yearn for even more of the same. Yes, he had always wanted to pull various young ladies into his arms, andhad done so multiple times and on various occasions, but with Miss Hawick, it appeared to be quite different.
“Though when she asked me if I would give up my roguish interests, I did not consent,” he reminded himself aloud, making his way to the gardens in the hope that the cool night air might calm his mind and his hot cheeks. “I do nothaveto do anything. I did not want to wed in the first place! If I wish to, then I can go back to being as I have always been once our wedding trip is at an end. There is nothing wrong with that!”
Those words did nothing other than spike guilt in his heart. With a low groan – and ignoring the looks of those around him – Andrew strode out of the French doors and into the dark of the gardens, glass still in hand.
I do not want this.
His heart fought back at him as he told himself, repeatedly, that he felt nothing for Miss Hawick and that his desire to return to being a rogue was not only true but understandable. After all, he had never wanted to wed and was being forced to do so and Miss Hawick knew precisely the sort of gentleman he was.
Andrew hung his head, coming to stand just beside a small fountain, the moonlight dancing on the water.
But I am changing. I am not the same as I was when I first kissed her.
Letting out a long sigh, Andrew lifted his glass to his lips and drained the amber liquid, hoping that it would bring him some relief. He had enjoyed speaking with Miss Hawick about his interest in art – an interest which he had not pursued in some time – as well as listening to her speak with such passion about the written word. There was more than just a physical connection between them and that frightened him, for it was beginning to alter him in a way that he had not expected. The thought of bringing her pain, of seeing it shine in her eyes, waseven more unbearable than it had been when he had written that poem. Could he really turn back to the rogue he had been?
“I do not want to change.”
Rebelling against his own heart, Andrew took another breath and made to turn around, intending to go back into the house and find something to do, whether it be cards or simply conversation so that he could forget entirely about Miss Hawick.
Someone came to stand in his way.
“Lord Kentmore. I am sorry to hear that you are now courting a young lady.”
Andrew blinked, recognizing the voice of the lady before him, though he struggled to make out her features. Their host had opened up the garden, yes, but he had not thought to light it in any way.
“There is no need to feel any sort of sympathy for me, I assure you.”
The lady laughed softly, her hand going to his chest in such a familiar way, that Andrew knew that he had shared a connection with her previously.
Inwardly, he pulled away from her, taking a small step back so that her hand fell away.
“You are being very good about it all.” Lady Faustine’s voice was gentle, almost tender. “No doubt there is a reason that you are courting her, for I know that you, being as you are, would never have willingly turned to marriage. I do hope that it was not my tardiness at the ball that brought this circumstance to you?”
Realizing that it was Lady Faustine he spoke with, Andrew let out a slow breath.
“Lady Faustine, good evening. Yes, I am sorry that we did not meet that evening.”
Andrew frowned as he spoke, realizing that he was not sorry in the least, though the words were spoken regardless.
“That was the evening that your courtship with this Miss Hawick became apparent.” Lady Faustine tilted her head. “There must be a reason for it. We have not had a chance to speak about that, as yet, but I presume that it is because you were found in a somewhat compromising position? One that you cannot now escape from?” She laughed softly as Andrew frowned heavily. “You are not the first scoundrel to have been caught so.”
“Indeed.”
