Page 27 of If the Duke Dares
“Thank you,” she said with a hint of uncertainty, as if she wasn’t sure what to say to him. She really didn’t know what to do with his kindness. She seemed convinced that he was a villain.
“Honestly, you deserve the gown and much more. You are owed recompense for the loss of your things.”
“Not byyou. Unless…you didn’t steal my valise, did you?”
“Of course not. But since you believe me to be a corrupt individual, why not make me pay for my sins?”
She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. After a moment, she spoke slowly. “There is a certain logic to that, I suppose. It would help me come to terms with having accepted the bath and the bedclothes.” She gave him a sheepish look. “I’m afraid I couldn’t bring myself to refuse them. Once I saw the bed in my chamber here, I was distraught to not have my sheeting.”
“Well, I hope whoever stole the valise needed the contents more than you.”
She laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “What a charitable thought.”
“I do try to find the positive in things,” he said. His father had always told him to turn his back on sadness and disappointment, that those emotions only weakened a man.
“Which I find bewildering.” She picked up her tea for a long sip.
“Why is that?”
“Because you are a consummate rogue.” She set her cup back in the saucer, then arranged her utensils to indicate she was finished with her breakfast. “I hadn’t thought you would be cheerful or…pleasant.”
“I must ask how you define a rogue.”
“Men who prey on women and who take great advantage of their station and privilege as gentlemen. Men who aren’t…serious or genuine.”
“I see. Well, some may think a rogue is simply a man who enjoys life. Indeed, rogues arequitepleasant. No one would find us attractive if we were beastly.” Actually, Droxford could be exceedingly unpleasant at times and managed to be incredibly popular with women. They seemed to like his gruff nature, as if they could somehow warm him where all others had failed. He frowned at Miss Barclay. “You seem committed to your dislike of me.”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you. Or like you.”
“Why?” he pressed again. Her animosity was making him self-conscious. He didn’t think he was a bad person, and he’d already decided to stop being so rakish.
Several moments passed as she seemed to consider what to say. He braced himself for something truly awful.
“What have I done?” he asked.
“It’s nothing specificyou’vedone. Although, your reputation is bad enough. And you surround yourself with people—your friends—who possess even worse reputations.”
That was probably true. He thought of his friends, and they were, for the most part, as libidinous as he was. A few were well known for their sexual prowess, one or two for their penchant for high stakes whether it was wagering or some other sort of competition, and they were all probably guilty of using their position to their advantage in a variety of ways. Acton had been delighted when his father had secured him an invitation to join the Rogue’s Den, and he was also a member of White’s, Brooks’s, and the Phoenix Club. He sought sanctuary in those places rather than attend Almack’s or many of the many balls and routs to which he was invited. He had the luxury of delaying marriage, of doing whatever he damn well pleased, really.
Her definition of aroguecame back to him. Perhaps he hadn’t been particularly serious. But, he was genuine—or tried to be. And he did, now, genuinely want to find a wife. Still, it was possible he was not taking it quite seriously enough.
“Did I make you stop and think?” she asked, jolting him.
She had, actually. He recalled what she’d said before that. She’d indicated that he’d done nothing specific to warrant her distrust while also pointing out the poor reputations of his friends. “Did one of my friends harm you in some way?”
“Not exactly.” She answered very quickly and didn’t meet his eyes.
Acton wasn’t certain that all his friends were as cautious as he was. He knew some of them probably took things too far with young ladies and were most unserious in their attentions. They stole kisses without any thought toward marriage. Hell, they all did—Acton had kissed many a young lady back when he’d suffered entire Seasons on the Marriage Mart and, more commonly, at house parties. It was time for him to have more consideration for his actions and the consequences of them.
Miss Barclay set her napkin on the table. “I’m going to cease this conversation now. You have a frustrating way of needling things from me when I wish you would leave me alone.”
“I really need you to get past that notion,” he said, also feeling frustrated. “I am not leaving you alone. What sort of cad do you take me for?” She shot him a look of wry surprise, and he nearly laughed. “Don’t answer that, for I already know: an exceptional one. Still, I am the cad who is watching over you until you return home. Won’t it be easier if we just become friends?”
She stared at him. “A young ladycannotbe friends with a known rake.”
“We can out here on the edge of England, where it’s unlikely anyone knows who we are.”
“You think because you called yourself ‘Mr. Loxley’ that no one will realize who you are? Especially since you used your real name over at the New Inn?”
