Page 47 of Along Came a Rogue

As the rapid—and well-overdone—explanation fell from her lips for why she would be alone at an inn with one of London’s most notorious rakes, Emily realized with horror that she was only digging herself deeper. She wasn’t alleviating Lady Gantry’s suspicions but furthering them.

The baroness stiffened at Grey’s name. Her eyes narrowed sharply, clearly recognizing his rakish reputation if not his face, and she snatched away her hand before he could take it.

Oh God…“Major Grey,” Emily forced out despite the tightening knot of panic in her throat, “may I introduce Baroness Gantry?”

With a cool and knowing smile, Grey bowed politely. Then the blasted devil sent the baroness his most rakish, most wickedly wolfish grin. “My lady, a pleasure indeed.”

Emily shot him an appalled look of chastisement, which he wholly ignored. He was her escort, truly sent by her family to fetch her, and she couldn’t have asked for a better guard to deliver her safely to them. But heavens! Why did the man have to feed into the gossip that was certain to come by behaving like…well, himself.

With a haughty sniff at his reputation, Lady Gantry turned her back to him completely.

Emily stared, her eyes narrowing to slits. The nerve of the woman! She’d never before witnessed so rude a cut, and her heart ached with embarrassment for him. Was this what his life was like in London, being subjected to such open disdain? Was this why he preferred to lurk on the fringes of society rather than try to become a true part of it?

Doubt hit her like a slap—is that what he thought of her now after their conversation from moments before, that she was no better than snooty, judgmental women like Lady Gantry?

How very different we are…Her stomach sickened.

“We’ve reserved a private dining room for the evening, Lady Emily.” The baroness took her arm and smiled at her. “So you simply must have dinner with us.”

Her chest sank with painful desolation. Trapped into dinner with Lady Gantry was the last place she wanted to be. Not when she needed to thoroughly explain herself to Grey, to make him believe her no matter how much groveling it took. And certainly not when all day she’d looked forward to being alone with him for one more precious night of feeling happy and safe in his arms.

“Thank you for the kind invitation, but I’m afraid I cannot. I have nothing appropriate to wear for dinner.” Emily latched on to the flimsy excuse. “We had to leave Snowden Hall rather quickly.”

Grey muffled a disdainful snort at her dissembling, but Lady Gantry was oblivious, trying her best to simply will the scoundrel from her presence altogether. “I will not let you refuse, my dear! After all, it wouldn’t do to have the daughter of a duke eating among riffraff and rogues.”

Riffraff and rogues. She meant Grey. But when Emily looked at him, the indifference in his returning gaze stole her breath away. Her pleading eyes offered a silent apology, but he only stared back inscrutably and folded his arms across his chest.

“Yes, Lady Emily,” he agreed, mockingly repeating the baroness’s overly dramatic words, “you simply must have dinner with them. We wouldn’t want you with the riffraff. Or the rogues.”

Emily stared at him, knowing the gulf between them had never been greater than at that moment. Although he stood there at her side, he already seemed a thousand miles away.

“Very well,” Emily agreed quietly, knowing she had no choice but to accept. The words echoed hollow in her empty chest. “I would be happy to dine with you, baroness.”

With a tightening of his jaw so imperceptible that Emily would have missed it had she not become so attuned to him, Grey politely nodded to the baroness before his eyes settled on her. “Enjoy your dinner, then. Good night, my lady.” He gave her a mockingly deep bow. “I shall see you in the morning.”

The hurt of fresh abandonment rushed through her. In the morning. He had no intention of coming to her tonight. Oh God, she’d ruined everything! “Grey, wait—”

But he spun on his heel and stalked away, his shoulders unyielding. As she watched him leave, her heart shattered.

* * *

“But Lady Emily, truly—Nathaniel Grey of all people!” Lady Gantry tsked at her and gave a shake of her head. “Whatever was your family thinking?”

Another dinner course, another attack on Grey. With a sigh, Emily pushed her plate away and waved off the pudding the barmaid placed in front of her.

The evening was dragging on unbearably, with dinner lingering through three previous courses and now pudding. Yet neither Lady Gantry nor her son George seemed close to calling an end to the ordeal and retiring to their rooms, although his bride had shyly excused herself after the second course, claiming fatigue after a long day’s travel.

Emily longingly wished she could have excused herself as well. But Lady Gantry had insisted she remain, so she stayed, despite the boredom of their stilted conversation and the continued prying into Grey’s presence on her trip. Although she’d initially enjoyed hearing about common acquaintances and the events in London during the past two seasons, she’d soon lost interest—

“Don’t they realize what a scandalous reputation that man possesses?”

—and hated the relentless attacks on his character. Lady Gantry seemed titillated by relating to her the stories of what Grey was rumored to have done since his return from the war, and with whom. Especially with some woman named Lady Margaret Roquefort. Emily didn’t want to hear any of it, but her disapproving frowns served only to encourage the old busybody.

At least George hadn’t joined in on the skewering. Her son didn’t bother to hide his boredom as he leaned back in his chair at the head of the table and sipped at a glass of port, making a disgusted face at each sip.

“Major Grey is a war hero who was wounded while serving his country,” Emily defended, her patience growing thin.

“Be that as it may,” Lady Gantry dismissed with a wave of her hand in the air, “the man is still a scoundrel with the reputation of a rake. He has no family—”