To Trust a Rogue by Christi Caldwell

Author:Christi Caldwell
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Christi Caldwell
Published: 2016-01-11T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

The following afternoon, Marcus sat in his office and stared into the contents of his brandy glass. He swirled the snifter in several slow circles and took a sip. With a curse, he took a long swallow of his drink, grateful when a knock sounded at his office door. “Enter,” he called out.

The door opened. “Oh, dear,” his sister said from the entrance of the room. “You’re ever so serious again.” He stiffened and turned around.

Lizzie sailed into the room in a noisy flurry of skirts. Her faithful friend, Lady Marianne, trotted along behind her, attired in a low-cut, sapphire satin gown a mistress would have compunctions wearing at this hour.

Marcus could not help but compare this woman’s jaded cynicism to Eleanor’s reserved thoughtfulness and dignity. Years younger than Eleanor, Lady Marianne possessed a worldliness that had once appealed to Marcus. Now he found himself repelled by the brazen promise in her eyes.

Sensing his attention, Lady Marianne misinterpreted it as favorable and toyed with her décolletage. Marcus quickly shifted his attention away. He set aside his glass and sketched a bow. “Lizzie,” he greeted wary of the mischievous glimmer in her revealing eyes. With her telling reactions, she would have been horrendous at the gaming tables.

“Marcus. I thought you might accompany me,” she cleared her throat. “That is, accompany us,” she motioned to the young lady hovering at the edge of the door. “To Kensington Gardens.”

He glanced over at the dark-haired young lady, Lord Atbrooke’s sister. “Hello, Lady Marianne,” he greeted, struck not for the first time by a flash of pity for the young woman linked to the notorious reprobate.

“My lord,” she whispered. A suggestive smile danced on her lips and lest he encourage his sister’s friend any more than he had with his two dances earlier that Season, he glanced away.

“The gardens, Marcus,” his sister prodded calling him back to the real reason for their visit. “Will you accompany us?”

“I—” Two pairs of wide, hopeful eyes studied him intently and he sighed. The alternative to not joining them would be to remain here haunted by the memory of Eleanor, last evening…and every evening before. “I would be honored to accompany you ladies,” he acquiesced, wincing as his sister emitted a loud squeal.

“I’ve already had the carriage ordered up.”

Of course, she had. He’d been unable to deny his sister anything through the years, and she knew he was neatly wrapped about her smallest finger and had been since she was a blubbering babe with barely any hair atop her head.

Except a short carriage ride later, strolling behind Lizzie and Lady Marianne, Marcus found himself wishing he were just this once, a less devoted brother. The infernal prattling that had filled the confines of his barouche continued with an incessant force, as he longed for the sanctuary of his office. Or his clubs. A parlor. A stable. An empty church. Really, anywhere but here in the midst of Hyde Park during the fashionable hours.

Just then, another round of giggles erupted.

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