Page 59 of Along Came a Rogue

His heart stopped. If he left her…He knew then what he had to do, and the decision hit him with the force of a lightning bolt.

“I told you, brat,” he answered quietly but with deep resolve, “that I would always protect you and your baby.” He couldn’t resist stroking her cheek in an attempt to soothe her, even as a knot of emotion lodged in his throat. “And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

“Grey, a word with you,” Thomas called from the doorway with a glance into the hall. “Now, please.”

Nodding, he stood and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “You’re not alone anymore, Emily.”

He hadn’t quite reached the door of the room when her mother bustled inside. The look of recrimination the duchess gave him to find him in the bedroom stunned him for a moment, and he glanced past her at Thomas, who mouthed a silent You’re welcome. Thank God Thomas was on his side, or her mother would have come in to find him sitting on the bed with her daughter, stroking her cheek. And army life had certainly never prepared him for a battle like that.

“Major Grey,” the duchess snapped, “a lady’s bedroom—”

“—is no place for a gentleman. Thank goodness you’re here now, Your Grace.” He sketched her a bow and sent her what he hoped she’d believe to be a grateful smile of relief. “I was just leaving to find you.” Behind her, he saw Thomas roll his eyes. “Lady Emily needs her mother to care for her, especially at this delicate time.”

That took the wind from the woman’s sails, and she blinked with momentary confusion, uncertain whether to continue her berating or thank him for his concern. “Well…yes,” she sputtered instead. “Yes, of course.” She paused, grudgingly forcing out, “I’m certain Thomas has thanked you for bringing Emily safely to us. We…appreciate all you’ve done.”

That was as close to gratitude as he would ever get from her. “I was happy to help, Your Grace.”

He glanced back at Emily. Even from this distance, he could see the tears glistening in her eyes, and fresh anguish sliced through his chest. This parting couldn’t be helped, but he would be back. And he would make it his personal mission to never see her cry again.

With a polite bow to the duchess, and a deeper bow to Emily, he said his good-byes and strode from the room, each step filled with resolute determination.

“Where are you going?” Thomas demanded, falling into step beside him, his hand covering his wounded side.

“To make arrangements,” he answered, pausing at the top of the stairs to glance back at her room. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Thomas shook his head grimly. “If you leave her to go to Spain now, in her condition—”

“No,” Grey corrected with unyielding resolve. “I meant about marrying her.”

For a moment, Thomas only gaped at him incredulously. “When I asked earlier…” He shook his head. “My parents won’t allow it, you know that. And certainly not if that child’s a boy.”

He blew out a weary breath, not looking forward to that battle. But it couldn’t be helped. “It’s the only way I can protect her.”

“Protect her?” Thomas’s brows drew down sharply. “Why would—”

“Do I have your permission to marry her, Thomas?” he asked solemnly. Emily was over twenty-one and didn’t need anyone’s permission, but Thomas’s opinion mattered. A great deal.

Thomas stared at him for a moment as if his best friend had lost his mind, then grinned slowly. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” he sighed with relief, resting his hand briefly on Thomas’s shoulder. “Not a word to Emily yet. I want to do this right.” He started down the stairs. “I’ll be back tomorrow with a ring and posies for a proper proposal.”

“And a smelling bottle to resuscitate my parents,” Thomas called grimly after him.

Grey ignored that. He’d deal with her parents later. For now, his only concern was protecting Emily. And he would protect her. With his life.

Chapter Eleven

Tea, Emily?”

Ignoring her mother in her distraction, Emily nervously paced to the end of the drawing room and paused only long enough to pull back the gauzy curtain that filtered out the afternoon sunlight and glance through the large window at the front entrance—empty. No saddle horse. No carriage.

No Grey.

With a sigh of mounting agitation, she turned and headed back across the room, wringing her hands. Even after tossing and turning all night, she wasn’t able to sit still today and rest. She’d remained too upset over the news of Dunwich’s death, and she’d missed the warmth of Grey’s protective arms around her as she slept. Nothing eased her worry and nervousness today, either. Not the book she’d tried to read, not sitting in the gardens, not even her sketchbook and pencils—and certainly not the letter her father insisted she write to the Committee for Privileges, informing them that she was with child. The same letter he delivered himself this afternoon. By tomorrow, all of London would know that she might be carrying the Dunwich heir, and then, oh God, what would she do to protect her baby?

Which was why she was pacing now. No—not pacing so much as simply wandering between the two windows, the door, and back, because in her anxious distraction she couldn’t have managed a straight line if her life depended upon it.

The long case clock struck, and she jumped. Her heart thumped with the ringing of the hour…one, two, three, four…Her chest fell. Five o’clock, and still no Grey. Surely, he should have returned by now, to see how she’d managed through the night and if she were feeling better. Or at least to reassure her of Yardley’s whereabouts, knowing how much the woman meant to her. Or if he’d started the investigation into Andrew’s murder and the arson at Snowden. But…nothing.