Page 5 of The Truth about the Rogue
“I have decided that I must change,” Lord Glenfield said again, more steadily this time. “I have been something of a rogue for the last few Seasons – though nothing like you! – and I have determined that I shall be a rogue no more.” Something cold seemed to drape itself around Andrew’s shoulders. He had expected Lord Glenfield to be just the same as he had been before, determined to make as much of a nuisance of himself as he could. He had expected Lord Glenfield to be as much of a rogue as he had ever been though, certainly, he had been a little less so than Andrew, but to know that he would change entirely was not something that Andrew had been prepared for. “You need not look so disappointed!” Laughing, Lord Glenfield shrugged. “I will be just as I was with you before, at least. Our friendship will be the same as it has always been!”
“I am glad to hear that at least,” Andrew answered, trying to rearrange his expression so he did not look as sorrowful. “Might I ask what precisely it is that you mean?”
His friend smiled.
“I mean that I intend to marry.”
Andrew sucked in a breath, the future he had anticipated shattering into a thousand pieces. He had known that Lord Glenfield had been considering his responsibilities last Season, but had never expected thatthiswould be the answer he would come up with! To consider matrimony was one thing, but to pursue it was quite another and Andrew had expected many a Season ahead of them where they would both continue on just as they pleased. Evidently, his expectation had been quite wrong.
“I do not have any young lady in mind as yet,” his friend continued, as though this was just as Andrew ought to have expected, “but all the same, I do not think that it will be too difficult to discover someone. The London Season is just as it should be in that, is it not?”
“If by that, you mean that it is filled with young ladies, all with the hope of finding themselves a husband, then yes, I would say that you are quite right there,” Andrew admitted, albeit a little ruefully. “Though I myself would have no interest in such a thing.”
“No?” His friend chuckled. “I thought you might have changed your mind, given your… other hobby.”
“Hush!” Andrew exclaimed, leaning closer to his friend, fright making his heart leap in his chest. “You know very well that I do not speak of that to anyone. You are the only one who is aware of it.”
Lord Glenfield’s expression became suddenly serious, and he put one hand to his heart.
“Forgive me, I ought not to have made light of that,” he said, with a genuineness that Andrew took to be real. “I know that it is a great secret, and I will always be grateful to you for taking me into your confidence.”
Andrew studied his friend’s expression, decided that Lord Glenfield appeared genuine, and then nodded, looking away. It had only been last Season that Lord Glenfield had accidentally discovered Andrew’s love of writing verse, though he had initially believed that it had been poetry senttoAndrew rather than Andrew writing it himself. It had been an awkward moment, but Andrew had ultimately decided that he would tell his closest friend the truth, given that they were the very best of friends and because he knew that he could trust him.
And I can trust him still.
“I presume that you are still pursuing that particular endeavor?”
Andrew nodded, glancing around him for fear that someone would overhear.
“Yes, I am.”
“And have you thought to publish it anywhere?”
Andrew blinked.
“Publish?”
“Yes, publish,” Lord Glenfield repeated with a smile. “I saw recently that The London Chronicle was seeking new articles to go into their publication. I am certain that, should you send your work there, it would be printed, and all of thetonwould read it.”
Andrew quickly shook his head.
“I have no interest in having anyone from society reading my work.”
“Though,” his friend suggested with a smile, “you could send it in anonymously, could you not?”
Hesitating, the protest dying away on his lips, Andrew considered his friend’s suggestion.
“I – I suppose that I might.”
“It would be interesting to see the response from theton,would it not?”
A corner of Andrew’s lips turned up.
“Or might it be thatyouwould like to use my published work to elicit the attention of particular young ladies?” Seeing his friend flush and look away, Andrew laughed aloud. Lord Glenfield had always bemoaned his lack of ability when it came to writing sonnets and the like, though previously, they had always been written to garner the attention from young ladies for the sole purpose of their own entertainments rather than for stealing their hearts. Now, however, Andrew suspected that Lord Glenfield might wish to use the published work to read aloud to any young lady he had set his eyes upon and, given the way that his friend would not look at him, Andrew believed himself to be correct. “That is not a bad thing, my friend though, if you like, I could write you your own sonnets, with which you could entrance whichever young lady you set your mind upon.”
With a scowl, Lord Glenfield shook his head.
“Though I might find the written verse difficult, I cannot – and will not – use your work to engage the interest of any young lady, for that would be a falsehood,” he stated unequivocally. “I am quite serious about this, Kentmore. I will not have a young lady drawn to me who believes that I am capable of writing beautiful words of love and devotion when I have no gift in that whatsoever.”
