Page 55 of Along Came a Rogue

Blinking at his unexpected exit, she mumbled with bewilderment, “He just left us here…standing in the foyer.”

“Yes, he did.” Grey chuckled. “I don’t think he quite knew what to do with us.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you are family and shouldn’t have to wait in your own home.” He averted his eyes to glance down the hall, searching for any sign of her family coming to greet her. “While I should never have been let through the front door.”

Her chest tightened with quick regret over the dismissive way her parents had regarded him over the years. “Don’t say that.”

He shrugged, as if no more bothered by that than a buzzing gnat. “It’s true.”

Regrettably, it was true. If not for his friendship with Thomas, he would never have been let inside at all. But Emily planned on changing that. She didn’t know how she’d manage it, but she would make certain that Grey never again felt unwelcome at Chatham House.

“It’s not really my home, though,” she said quietly, changing topics to move away from the embarrassment she felt over her parents’ concern with status. “I never lived here. My family moved here after I married.” She shook her head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at the irony of it all. “I’m coming home to a house where I never lived from one that’s now a pile of ashes!”

He squeezed her fingers reassuringly. “You’ll be welcomed here,” he said quietly, with that same contemplative demeanor that had shadowed him all day. So much so that he’d sat in the carriage with her for most of the long ride today staring thoughtfully out the window, saying nothing. He hadn’t even attempted to kiss her, let alone make love to her again, which bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

“Grey.” She frowned, suspecting that whatever clouded his mind today had little to do with simply delivering her home. “Is something—”

“Hello, brat.”

She looked up at the stairway landing, and her heart skipped. Thomas.

He was on his feet, although from the way his hand gripped the banister he was still unsteady, but his color was normal, his eyes shining bright with happiness to see her. Her throat tightened. He was a glorious vision, despite the half-dressed state of his shirt hanging untucked to cover the bandages he wore around his waist and the growth of beard that gave him a devilish air, and she had never been happier in her life to see him.

But emotion overwhelmed her. All she could do was stand there, staring up at him, while her eyes blurred with tears.

He smiled warmly as he carefully descended the stairs. When he drew nearer, she noticed the stiffness in his movements, the dark circles beneath his eyes, his tired and drawn face. He’d lost at least two stone in weight, and through the unshaven growth of beard, she easily glimpsed the sallow paleness of his cheeks. Her heart ached for him, and her grief for the hell he’d suffered stole her breath away.

But he was alive. Thank God!

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Thomas,” she whispered, his name a plea for forgiveness.

Silently, he held out his hand to her, and she ran to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders.

She pressed him close, feeling the warmth in him and the steady beating of his heart. Thank God, he was alive! And he was going to be all right. To think how close she’d come to losing him, to never seeing him again—to risk that he would go to his grave believing she’d stopped needing him…But she would always need him, and she would never again let her own foolish pride come between them.

Thomas winced, inhaling sharply through clenched teeth.

Quickly, she stepped back, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh! I’ve hurt you.”

“It’s all right.” He placed a hand over the wound in his side and reached for the banister with the other to steady himself before giving her a weak smile, but one beaming full of love. “I’m just glad you’re here.” He slipped his arm around her to carefully hug her to him, then he looked over her head at Grey. His voice choked with emotion. “Thank you for bringing her home to me.”

“You said you needed her,” Grey replied softly, and Emily thought she saw his eyes glisten just as much as Thomas’s. Clearing his throat, he glanced down at Thomas’s side with concern. “Should you be out of bed?”

“I’m fine.” Despite his assurance, she thought she saw him tremble as he scratched at his wrists, only to drop his hands to his side when he caught her watching him. “Can’t stand another damnable minute in that bed. Besides, there’ll be plenty of time to rest later.” Grinning at Emily, he swept his gaze over her, taking her all in. “I wouldn’t have missed my sister’s homecoming for the world.”

New guilt swept through her, and Emily bit her bottom lip. Grey was certain Thomas would forgive her, but so much had happened…Would he truly forgive her for all the mistakes she’d made?

She drew a deep breath. “Thomas, I need to speak with—”

“Emily!” Mary Matteson, Duchess of Chatham, glided down the hall and into the foyer. “Thank goodness you’re finally here!” Her mother turned a commanding gaze at the butler, who followed behind. “Jensen, send a footman to the Lords right away. Tell Chatham that his daughter has returned and is waiting to see him.”

The butler nodded and signaled to a uniformed footman standing by the front door who hurried from the house, most likely with a prepared message already waiting in hand for her arrival.

Mary hugged Emily to her briefly, then pulled back and squeezed both of Emily’s hands in hers. “We’ve been beside ourselves with worry about you traveling alone, all the way from Yorkshire.”