More Than a Rogue Page 6

  “More?”

  “Well, yes. All young gentlemen have mistresses, and if they do not then they visit the brothels. By the time they marry, they have acquired a wealth of knowledge that young women completely lack.”

  If there was one thing Griffin could say with confidence, it was that Miss Howard did and said the most unexpected things. It had taken considerable restraint on his part to stop his mouth from falling open in response to her rather outrageous remark.

  “Do you deliberately aim to shock people?” He honestly wasn’t sure since he did not know her well enough yet to have discovered if this was a permanent characteristic of hers or merely the result of being too put out by circumstance to care.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, I do beg your pardon. I’m not usually so blunt.” She smiled then, with a wryness he found incredibly charming. “Except when I’m with Cass and Mary. We’ve grown so close over the years, I feel I can say whatever I like to them without reproach.”

  Griffin felt a sharp pang in the middle of his chest. He envied that sort of honesty and the bond it forged. The years he’d spent apart from his brothers made him feel foreign to them, in a way. Which was yet another reason why he wanted to leave; so he could escape the lack of closeness he experienced with his family.

  When he’d returned, he’d foolishly imagined they’d all pick up where they’d left off. But of course that wasn’t possible. Too much had happened in the years since. They’d lived different lives from the one they’d once shared. Their father and older brother were dead, and Caleb was now the duke.

  Nothing would ever be as it once had been.

  Which was probably why Devlin had already gone away.

  Smart man.

  “Lord Griffin?”

  Griffin shook his head at the sound of Miss Howard’s voice. He looked at her and saw that she stared back at him with a question in her green-gold eyes.

  What was it she’d been saying?

  Ah, yes. She could be open with Cassandra and Mary.

  “I’m not judging you,” he said, even though he clearly had. Her deepening frown confirmed that she shared this opinion. Griffin sighed. “I was caught by surprise, but I actually...”

  He considered how much to reveal. Was it wise to encourage additional closeness with her? Probably not, but he also didn’t want to stifle her true nature. That would be wrong.

  Or so he told himself.

  “Yes?”

  Griffin cleared his throat. “In spite of my initial reaction, I actually like how straightforward you were before with your comment. If you will permit, I would welcome the opportunity for us to be completely candid with each other for as long as I’m here. It would make a refreshing change, I should think.”

  “From putting on airs?”

  He nodded slowly. “From feeling as though I’m walking around in someone else’s skin.”

  The snort with which she responded became a laugh. “That’s rather morbid.” Her amusement was brief, however, and quickly transformed into a more serious expression denoting respect and thoughtfulness. “I actually like the idea. And I agree with your suggestion since I would rather be myself than the carefully polite miss Society insists I must be.”

  “In other words, we shall be respectful but brutally forthright with each other.”

  “As long as you promise not to judge me.”

  “If I do,” he told her sincerely, “it will be in the best way possible.”

  She seemed to like that response, for she smiled as if he’d just set a plate of treats before her.

  “Now then,” he continued. “Which topic shall we address first? The injustice of young men knowing what to expect when they enter the marriage bed or the anatomical differences between the sexes?”

  Emily’s face grew instantly hot. Oh, she was in trouble now and with no one else to blame for it but herself. She eyed Lord Griffin, whose cheeky grin and gleaming eyes bore evidence of a deliberate attempt to tease her. Clearly, she had overestimated her ability to face his straightforwardness because she could not even think of how to respond. Except perhaps with a squeak of dismay, which would not do at all since she was the one who’d initiated this peculiar dialogue.

  And now the annoying man was openly laughing.

  Emily glared.

  “Oh, you must forgive me, Miss Howard, but your face...” Warmth flickered in his eyes along with a hint of regret that made guilt spark in Emily’s heart. “Forgive me, but I could not resist.”

  “You did what we agreed to. If anything, it is I who should ask forgiveness for not being able to meet the challenge.”

  “I went too far,” he argued. He blew out a breath and knit his brow in a way that made him look slightly lost. “I spoke to you as I once would have done to my brothers. It was a mistake.”

  “I gather you’re not as close as you were before you went your separate ways?”

  “We’ve lived different lives for the past ten years. Our experiences have been dissimilar and...” He stared into the flames. “It is as if we share a common point in the past from which we’ve all diverged.”

  “Do you regret leaving?” she quietly asked.

  “No. Staying would have meant following the path my father intended for me.” He met her gaze directly. “He wanted me to be a soldier.”

  “And you wished to build mechanical things.”

  A grin curved his lips. “I suppose so, even though it took me a while to realize it.”

  “So you just went out into the world, unsure of what would become of your life.” She marveled at his courage and his ability to stay away. And then she marveled at her own.

  As if reading her mind, he raised his chin a notch. “We’re not so dissimilar, are we? Both running from the mold our parents meant for us to fit into.”

  His comment hung in the air for a moment. Accompanied by the dim lighting and the warmth emanating from the fireplace, it added an intimacy between them that made Emily feel uncomfortably vulnerable.

  She nodded. “I suppose.” She glanced at their empty plates and mugs. “It’s been a long day and it’s getting late. I think I’ll start cleaning up.”

  “I’ll help,” he offered.

  Even though they washed and dried the dishes in silence, Emily’s mind whirled with the keen awareness of how undressed he was, his close proximity as he dried the items she handed to him, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood wafting off his person, and the very critical question of where he would sleep.

  “If you agree,” he said after putting the flames out in the fireplace so only a few hot embers remained, “I’ll stay in the parlor tonight. On the sofa.”

  “I think that would be acceptable,” she said and then winced at how prim she sounded. But relaxing was no easy feat when she and the most gorgeous man in the world would be spending the night together. Beneath the same roof, at least. “I will go find a pillow for you. And an extra blanket.”

  The edge of his mouth curved, producing the smile that invariably caused her stomach to flutter. “I would appreciate that, Miss Howard.”

  His eyes held hers for a moment, the intensity of his gaze so acute she found herself scorched to the depth of her soul. Unnerved, she turned away and went to locate the items he needed for a good night’s rest, all the while wondering if coming here with him alone would lead to her biggest regret.

  5

  “We need to make a plan,” Griffin told Emily the following morning when she came to join him in the kitchen. He’d slept abominably on the sofa since it had been at least a foot too short to accommodate him comfortably. So he’d risen early, put on his clothes which were now blessedly dry, and set about preparing some breakfast while pondering his circumstances.

  The attraction he felt toward Emily couldn’t be denied, which meant staying here with her like this posed a serious threat, not only to her reputation but to her virtue and his peace of mind. Since he only meant to secure her safety and had no desire to find himself tied down in England
through marriage, they would have to act quickly.

  “How so?” she asked, stepping further into the room.

  Directing his attention away from the eggs he was frying, he looked at her more fully. She was dressed in the same slate blue dress she’d changed into the previous evening, so he ought not have marveled over her appearance. But now, illuminated by the fresh beams of sunlight falling through the beveled glass windows, she made him forget himself for a moment. Instead he considered the way her skin glowed, the fact that her hair, which he’d always considered a plain shade of brown, was more reddish in tone, and how he longed to feel her plush, velvet lips pressed against his once more.

  The smell of something burning snapped him out of his reverie, and he hastily removed the pan from the stove. Clearing his throat, he deliberately tamped down the surge of desire rising inside him. Whatever he felt for her was temporary, he told himself. The result of their being alone together without a chaperone. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d kissed her, that she’d been disappointed by his effort, or that he wanted to prove himself capable of giving her an unforgettable experience. Only danger lay in that direction. Which reminded him of what he’d concluded this morning before she’d risen.

  “We cannot remain here together,” he said as he slid the eggs onto a couple of plates. The eggs were slightly blackened around the edges – a testament to the distraction Emily posed.

  “I agree.” Her response was swift, as if she had arrived at the same conclusion. Before he could come to terms with the disagreeable effect that had on him, however, she moved in closer to where he stood and said, “I’ve never seen a man cook before.”

  His chest expanded. “Necessity can be quite motivational.” He placed two slices of bread on the pan and let them toast in the leftover grease while he poured the tea he’d prepared into cups. “I had no one to rely on for food but myself when I left home.” He shrugged at the memory. “It was actually nice not having servants around all the time, ready to tend to my every need. So I chose not to hire any even after I got myself settled in Vienna.”

  “Then you also clean?”

  “And launder my clothes.” When he caught her staring at him in dismay, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “You don’t send them out to a laundress?”

  “I’m just one person, Miss Howard. I find it’s not really worth it, though I did try doing so once in the beginning. When my shirts came back two sizes smaller, I decided never to do it again.”

  She blinked. “But you’re a duke’s son.”

  “And you are an affluent businessman’s daughter.” He set their teacups on the table, retrieved the toast from the pan, and placed each slice on a plate beside the accompanying egg. “I doubt you were raised to cook and clean and tutor orphans.”

  “I suppose you have a point.” Her brow puckered as if in thought. She went to the table and took her seat. “Moving here was the best decision I ever made for myself. I’ve never felt freeer.”

  “It cannot have been easy, though.” He sat opposite her and took a sip of his tea.

  She did the same, directing his gaze once again to her lips, now carefully poised against the rim of her cup while she drank.

  A rush of desire swept through him again, this time tempting him with erotic visualizations of how those lips might give him the most divine pleasure.

  “On the contrary, it was extraordinarily challenging,” she said, her precise tone suggesting that she was completely oblivious to the forceful effect she was having on him. “Not just for me, of course, but for all of us.” She set her cup aside, picked up her knife and fork, and proceeded to cut her toast into narrow strips. “We had to learn new skills.” A smile tugged at her lips. “The first meal I made was an utter disaster. The meat caught fire and blackened while the water I was boiling vegetables in overflowed.” A sigh accompanied by a small shake of her head conveyed her self-deprecation. “I burnt my hands badly in the process.”

  “Dear God.” The arousal that had been building inside him was swiftly banked by concern. He instinctively looked at her hands, and she turned them palm up to reveal three dark lines of discoloration.

  An ache took hold of his heart. “How?” It was all he could manage to get past the sudden knot in his throat.

  “In my haste to remove the burnt roast from the spit, I did not think to use a dishtowel or anything else to protect my hands.” She laughed lightly, forcing his gaze back to hers. “You need not look so serious. I’m quite all right and have learned from my silly mistake. Haven’t burnt a roast or myself since.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it.” He studied her for a second then asked, “Do you like doing it? Cooking, that is.”

  “Yes.” There was no hesitation in her answer. “I’ve improved a great deal over the years. Acquiring a couple of recipe books helped. And some of the women I’ve met in these parts, especially the vicar’s wife, have provided me with some wonderful advice.” An almost shy smile tugged at her lips as she shrugged one shoulder. “I’m especially fond of cooking new dishes and have started compiling a book of my own recipes.”

  She dipped a strip of toast into her egg yolk and took a bite while he stared at her in wonder. “Thank you for making breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said before popping a piece of egg on toast into his mouth.

  They ate for a moment in silence before she eventually asked, “What about your scar? It doesn’t look like the sort of thing you acquired by accident.”

  Griffin winced. He didn’t like being reminded of the poorest lack in judgment he’d ever had. “I came too close to another man’s blade once,” he grumbled.

  “I thought as much.” Miss Howard hesitated briefly and then posed her next question. “Why were you fighting?”

  “I prefer not to discuss it.” He met her gaze boldly. “It isn’t a suitable subject of conversation for a lady.”

  “If you recall, we promised each other honesty.”

  A sigh forced its way up his throat. Devil take it if she wasn’t correct.

  Right.

  If honesty was what she wanted, then that was what she would get. “Years ago, a woman came into my shop.” He sighed at the memory of golden curls framing a heart-shaped face and eyes as blue as the summer sky. “She was the loveliest creature I’d ever seen.”

  “What happened to her?” The words were gently spoken. Almost a whisper.

  “She…” He swallowed. Already his heart was pounding while tremors raked his skin. Gripping the edge of the table, Griffin struggled to calm the riotous flare of emotion this conversation had caused. “As a widow, she was free to enjoy certain liberties.” He gave Miss Howard a pointed look.

  “So you became lovers.”

  Surprised by her matter of fact manner and the lack of surprise on her face, he could only nod in response. “Yes.”

  “I see nothing wrong with that.”

  No. Of course she wouldn’t. Except… “I made the mistake of falling in love with her though.”

  “You told me in the carriage that you have never been in love.”

  “I lied.”

  Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, with what appeared to be disapproval. But then she asked, “And why would loving this woman be so bad?”

  For some absurd reason he chuckled, only the sound was not at all humorous. “Because it turned out that she wasn’t a widow at all. Just a married woman seeking a bit of adventure.”

  Miss Howard inhaled sharply. “She tricked you!”

  “Indeed she did,” he said softly. “And when her husband found out about it, she accused me of seducing her and even demanded that her husband challenge me to a duel.”

  “That scheming little harlot.” The words dripped from Miss Howard’s tongue like venom. Her eyes, he saw now, were dark with anger. Anger directed at Clara. Anger for what she had done. Anger on his behalf.

  He almost laughed in response to her outrage. Until she added, “That woman n
ever deserved you. So I’m glad you’re rid of her. Even if she hurt you.”

  Ignoring the warmth her words stirred in his heart, he told her gruffly, “I was stupid. In retrospect there were signs, indications of her duplicitous nature that I chose to ignore. And as a result, I ended up deformed.” He touched one finger to his cheek, allowing it to slide against the raised line of flesh.

  A snort was her first response. And then she said, “There is nothing deformed about you. And besides, it is my understanding that many young ladies find scars incredibly dashing.”

  “Really?” For some peculiar reason, his voice was lower now, with an unintentional seductiveness to it. And yet, he could not help but ask, “And what is your opinion?”

  She started a little as if unprepared for such a forward question. And then her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Swallowing, she averted her gaze from his. “I’m not entirely sure.”

  Intrigued by her response, he leaned forward in his seat. “Come now, Miss Howard. You can do better than that.” He allowed an encouraging smile when she glanced his way once more. “After all, we did say we would be both direct and honest with each other.”

  Her blush deepened and Griffin’s whole body tightened in response. He held his breath, both dreading her answer and longing to hear it.

  “Very well,” she acquiesced. Her eyes sharpened, focusing more intensely on his face. Her scrutiny caused his skin to prick with awareness. “The scar does not detract from your handsomeness. If anything, it adds character and perhaps an element of ruggedness that suits you rather well.” She tilted her head. “I also think you would be less intriguing without it.”

  “Are you saying that you like it?” Surely not. He’d spent the last six years regretting the wound he’d sustained at the hands of a man who’d had every right to kill him. The awareness that it was the first thing people noticed about him had been at the front of his mind ever since.