wish you on her, either.”
“I’d take offense if I didn’t know that was jealousy speaking,” Hil replied breezily as he headed for the bedroom door. “I shall leave you to your cold and lonely bed with one last parting thought. If you knew that right now she was taking another man to her bed, would you sleep well tonight?” He smiled with feigned innocence over his shoulder. “Good night, Roger.”
Roger gulped his whiskey again after Hil left and this time it made him cough. He didn’t care. There was no one around to hear him. He got up to get another one because, dammit, now he had a vision of Harry taking another man to bed and he knew he wasn’t going to sleep at all without more whiskey. He cursed Hil for that parting gift and then cursed again when he saw the empty decanter. The bloody bastard hadn’t left a drop.
* * *
Roger tilted his beaver hat a little lower on his head to shade his eyes from the midday sun as he scanned the park in the middle of the square for Harry and her little boy. Her footman said she’d gone there. He could hardly believe she lived here in Manchester Square, so far from their little village in the Midlands. He stood in front of her house and looked around the square. The magnificent Hertford House dominated the square, but Harry’s smaller residence made a respectable showing right across from it. The Marquess of Hertford was her neighbor, for God’s sake. She had no business with the likes of Roger. Seeing her circumstances now made him more determined than ever to talk some sense into her.
He had almost no money left. He’d spent it all on the Continent wooing a woman who had no intention of marrying him from the very beginning. He’d spent almost a yearlonger in Europe than he’d planned, chasing Rose. She’d been no heiress, but she would have brought a dowry sufficient to set them up in a little house somewhere outside of London. Roger didn’t have much in the way of investments or possessions, but he had an excellent education. He was fairly sure he could find a position as secretary or tutor. It would have been a cozy life. What a silly fool he’d been, not to see that Rose was incapable of living that kind of life. She’d never said yes. She’d never joined those conversations when Roger had talked about the two of them living like that. But it was all water under that burned bridge now. Money spent and long gone. His pockets were as empty as his heart.
He hadn’t slept a wink last night thinking things through. He had to get Harry to stop this nonsense. The two of them together was a bad idea; one of the worst, actually. He squinted and bit back a groan at the pain in his bruised cheek as he did so. Look at him today, all because of Harry. If they were to be intimate, the chances of further injury to his person rose exponentially.
And he liked Harry. He always had. She was feisty, shrewd, as quick to laugh as she was to yell, a good man to have at your back in a fight. At least she had been when they were young. But they weren’t children anymore. The truth was, in spite of her brazen pursuit of him, she was a nice woman. Not his usual sort at all. Even Rose, that little she devil, had been a bit off. All right, if he was going to stand here and be honest with himself, she’d been evil, in the bedroom and out. But he liked that kind of girl. Liked them tough and hard and hungry. And Harry just wasn’t. She’d shown up again and again after his refusals and indifference. She was as loyal as a hound, as sweet as sugar, as stubborn as a mule. He’d never heard her say an ill word about anyone, even asthe two-faced matrons of the ton whispered viciously behind her back.
Feisty and stubborn, however, weren’t the same as being hard enough to handle the type of affair she claimed she wanted with him. A life like that, one affair after another, would break her. Roger could handle that sort of life; he was born for it. The second son of a country
“I’d take offense if I didn’t know that was jealousy speaking,” Hil replied breezily as he headed for the bedroom door. “I shall leave you to your cold and lonely bed with one last parting thought. If you knew that right now she was taking another man to her bed, would you sleep well tonight?” He smiled with feigned innocence over his shoulder. “Good night, Roger.”
Roger gulped his whiskey again after Hil left and this time it made him cough. He didn’t care. There was no one around to hear him. He got up to get another one because, dammit, now he had a vision of Harry taking another man to bed and he knew he wasn’t going to sleep at all without more whiskey. He cursed Hil for that parting gift and then cursed again when he saw the empty decanter. The bloody bastard hadn’t left a drop.
* * *
Roger tilted his beaver hat a little lower on his head to shade his eyes from the midday sun as he scanned the park in the middle of the square for Harry and her little boy. Her footman said she’d gone there. He could hardly believe she lived here in Manchester Square, so far from their little village in the Midlands. He stood in front of her house and looked around the square. The magnificent Hertford House dominated the square, but Harry’s smaller residence made a respectable showing right across from it. The Marquess of Hertford was her neighbor, for God’s sake. She had no business with the likes of Roger. Seeing her circumstances now made him more determined than ever to talk some sense into her.
He had almost no money left. He’d spent it all on the Continent wooing a woman who had no intention of marrying him from the very beginning. He’d spent almost a yearlonger in Europe than he’d planned, chasing Rose. She’d been no heiress, but she would have brought a dowry sufficient to set them up in a little house somewhere outside of London. Roger didn’t have much in the way of investments or possessions, but he had an excellent education. He was fairly sure he could find a position as secretary or tutor. It would have been a cozy life. What a silly fool he’d been, not to see that Rose was incapable of living that kind of life. She’d never said yes. She’d never joined those conversations when Roger had talked about the two of them living like that. But it was all water under that burned bridge now. Money spent and long gone. His pockets were as empty as his heart.
He hadn’t slept a wink last night thinking things through. He had to get Harry to stop this nonsense. The two of them together was a bad idea; one of the worst, actually. He squinted and bit back a groan at the pain in his bruised cheek as he did so. Look at him today, all because of Harry. If they were to be intimate, the chances of further injury to his person rose exponentially.
And he liked Harry. He always had. She was feisty, shrewd, as quick to laugh as she was to yell, a good man to have at your back in a fight. At least she had been when they were young. But they weren’t children anymore. The truth was, in spite of her brazen pursuit of him, she was a nice woman. Not his usual sort at all. Even Rose, that little she devil, had been a bit off. All right, if he was going to stand here and be honest with himself, she’d been evil, in the bedroom and out. But he liked that kind of girl. Liked them tough and hard and hungry. And Harry just wasn’t. She’d shown up again and again after his refusals and indifference. She was as loyal as a hound, as sweet as sugar, as stubborn as a mule. He’d never heard her say an ill word about anyone, even asthe two-faced matrons of the ton whispered viciously behind her back.
Feisty and stubborn, however, weren’t the same as being hard enough to handle the type of affair she claimed she wanted with him. A life like that, one affair after another, would break her. Roger could handle that sort of life; he was born for it. The second son of a country
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