Page 11 of The Truth about the Rogue
Andrew rolled his eyes.
“I did not spend much time with Lady Sternford, unfortunately.”
“And why is that? Did she not appear?” Lord Glenfield frowned. “I thought she made it very plain to you that she would be glad of your company.”
A wry smile tipped Andrew’s lips.
“It seems that most people heard her say such a thing,” he replied, as his friend chuckled. “She said it into my ear in such a loud voice that almost every other person in the room heard her! Yes, we arranged to meet in the bookshop and yes, she did arrive – but I must make it clear that I only intended to acquaint myself a little better with her, that is all. Nothing more.”
Lord Glenfield snorted.
“Then why meet in such a private place? Why not walk with her through the park and further acquaint yourself that way?”
Andrew considered then shrugged, a small smile twisting the edge of his mouth.
“Mayhap I would not have been able to acquaint myself with her in the way I desired, should I have done that.”
The bark of laughter from his friend made Andrew grin, his frustration over the other young lady fading from him.
“And did youacquaintyourself with her as you desired?” Lord Glenfield asked, just as Andrew’s irritation returned swiftly. “I see that you are frowning hard, my friend. I presume that she was not as willing as you might have hoped?”
“Oh no, it was not that,” Andrew returned, rolling his eyes. “It was more that I found myself unable to be present with her without any further company for, given what one young lady said in the presence of the bookshop keeper, the man seemed quite determined to reorder the books in whichever part of the shop I was in!” Lord Glenfield’s lips quirked but Andrew only scowled, his frustration now burning through him again. “That young lady, whoever she was, took it into her head to say aloud what it was that I had said to her only a few minutes beforehand – and had I known that she was going to say something, I would never havedreamedof speaking so.”
“Why did you say it?”
“Because,” Andrew sighed, heavily, “I was irritated. I came upon her unexpectedly and she dropped a book she had beenholding – a book of poetry, I might add. I told her that I would purchase it for her, given that it was a little damaged, but she refused.”
His friend frowned.
“And that troubled you?”
“I did not want her to refuse, but it was more that she…” Sighing, Andrew threw back the rest of his brandy, suddenly feeling rather foolish. “She compared my poetry with other poems she preferred.”
A light of understanding came into Lord Glenfield’s eyes. “You took offense because she did not think well of your poem?”
Another sigh and a flush of embarrassment crept up Andrew’s chest.
“I might have taken it a little too personally. I have been greatly appreciative of those in thetonwhohavevalued my work, and to hear this young lady essentially saying that it was not in any way different from any other poem did irritate me somewhat.”
His friend nodded.
“So you spoke foolishly about your intentions as regarded coming into the bookshop?”
“It was not foolish,” Andrew protested quickly. “All I did was speak the truth, though I mayhap ought not to have been so clear about it.”
“And thereafter, what did you do?”
Andrew flung up one hand, his empty glass in the other.
“Am I at confession?”
“What did you do to make the young lady speak about your intentions in such a clear way?”
Andrew closed his eyes.
“I followed after her, delighting silently in how my honesty had set her ill at ease–”
“Because she did not care for your poem.”
