Page 62 of Along Came a Rogue

With a soft expression of knowing pity, her mother folded her hands in her lap and gently shook her head. “To give up his freedom, to leave behind the excitement of battles and chasing enemies for a life of domesticity, babies, social outings—could you imagine a man like him, retired to a life of leisure on a country estate? He would go mad within a fortnight.”

Emily lowered her gaze to the floor as she began to tremble. No. Grey wasn’t like that. He might consider himself a lurker who belonged between worlds, but he knew society and its benefits and would fit into that life as well as any gentleman. She knew it! He’d hurt his own cause in the past by cultivating his reputation as a rake and an outsider, but surely, he could overcome that…couldn’t he?

“I knew men like him in India,” her mother continued quietly, “those men who had a taste for adventure. They were never happy leading an ordinary life, and your Major Grey is the same. I see it every time I look at him.”

Emily glanced away as uncertainty swirled through her and mixed with the roiling pain knotting her insides. She had seen the same look in him herself.

“For a man like him,” her mother said softly as she rose to her feet and stepped slowly toward her, “even the best marriage would be…well, it would be like trapping a tiger in a cage.”

A tiger in a cage. Pain tore through her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force away the heartbreak of her mother’s words. Because she was right. Grey valued his freedom more than anything else. Good God, he’d told her so! The freedom to shape his own life, to come and go between worlds as he pleased…to accept a promotion in Spain.

“In time,” her mother assured her, placing her hand on Emily’s arm and gently squeezing, “he would regret choosing a wife over the War Office, and whatever love he holds for you now would only turn to resentment.”

“He would never…” Yet even as Emily whispered the words, she doubted them.

Pity swam in her mother’s eyes. She reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Emily’s ear, the same motherly gesture she used to do when Emily was just a little girl, still in braids in the nursery at Ivy Glen. “Please understand. I do not tell you this to hurt you, my darling, but to keep you from being hurt.”

The air tore from her lungs. Oh, it was too late for that! Already the pain and loss reverberated inside her.

A soft scratch sounded at the door, and Jensen entered. “Your Grace.” He bowed to the duchess, then turned to Emily with a nod. “There is a caller downstairs for Lady Emily. Major Grey, ma’am.”

Pressing her hand hard against her chest and the heart that pounded so achingly within, Emily drew a sharp breath to gather her strength and find the resolve to face him. All day she’d paced and hoped he’d come see her, but now that he was here, dread fell coldly through her.

The butler paused, waiting for a response. When she didn’t answer, he pressed gently, “What would you like me to do with him, ma’am?”

For the first time concerning Grey, she hesitated. Then, drawing a deep breath, she answered nervously, “Would you please show the major upstairs?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jensen inclined his head and retreated.

“I shall leave you two to talk,” her mother offered soberly. “But please remember all I’ve said. It would break my heart to see you hurt.”

Her mother kissed her softly on the cheek, then silently left.

With her mother gone, Emily looked down at her hands. They were shaking, with no way to stop them.

She turned away and once again set to pacing the room, this time in desperation to collect herself before Grey saw the anguish on her face and the pain of her shattered heart. Her mother was right. He wasn’t the sort of man who could tolerate a normal society marriage, but he knew it, too. Which was why he’d never made any promises to her for a future or any kind of commitment beyond delivering her to London, why he’d never even hinted about marriage. Oh, she was such a fool! While she was falling in love, he had been planning his relocation to Spain.

Even if he changed his mind and decided he wanted her—a tiger in a cage. She closed her eyes against the pain of the truth. Her mother was right; Grey loved being an agent and the life of excitement that accompanied it, the possibility for an even better future it might yet bring him. All she could do was take that away.

And what would become of her if she did and if he grew to resent her for it? She knew what hell it was to be married to a man who hated his wife, who blamed her for turning his life into something he never wanted—who would only end up abandoning her. Oh God, she couldn’t bear that again! And certainly not from Grey, of all men. The only man she’d ever loved, and the only man she ever would.

“Emily.”

His deep voice shivered through her. She opened her eyes and watched him saunter into the room. The sight of him stole her breath away.

Dressed in formal afternoon attire of a silk maroon waistcoat, tan trousers, and a black superfine jacket, he could have put Beau Brummell’s dandies to shame, certainly outshining them all with his golden hair and handsome face. His man had spent hours on the intricately knotted cravat at his neck, his close shave, and the shine of his polished boots. He’d taken her breath away before, even half-dressed and sporting two days’ growth of beard. But this…sweet Lord, she hadn’t been prepared for this! Every inch proclaimed him the gentleman he was born to be instead of the orphan fate had made him.

But when he smiled at her, a look so full of affection that his eyes shined, the tug at her heart told her that nothing from his past signified. What mattered was his future. And she would do whatever she had to in order to ensure that.

Even if it meant a future without her.

* * *

Grey stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away. He’d spent all last night pacing and practicing what he would say to her. Now that the moment had arrived, however, he couldn’t remember a blasted word. Of course, the ferocious pounding of his heart didn’t help alleviate his nervousness, or how his palms had grown so sweaty that he didn’t dare remove his gloves. Or by the weight of the ring box in his breast pocket, acting as a constant reminder that his life was about to change forever.

And it certainly wasn’t helped by the way Emily simply stood there on the far side of the room, making no move to rush to him as he’d hoped.

He frowned, a soft pang of uncertainty rising inside him. “Emily.” He came forward. “Are you all right?”