Page 60 of Along Came a Rogue

Her mother held up a teacup as she wandered past, her brow furrowing with concern, and tried again. “Would you like some tea, dear?”

Emily waved it away and kept pacing, raising her thumb to her mouth to bite at her nail.

Thomas was also absent this afternoon, almost as if he was avoiding her, which pained her more than she wanted to admit. She’d told him about Andrew’s death and the fire when she told her father that morning. At least the stunned look on her brother’s face showed his concern and that he believed she wasn’t lying, although most likely he thought her slightly mad. Even if she’d wanted to dissemble, Thomas was the one who taught her how to lie, and she was certain not one of hers would slip past him now. Which was going to make it very difficult when she finally told him the truth about her marriage and how she’d gotten with child, just as Grey had urged her to do.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not on top of everything else. Right now, all she could think about was keeping her baby safe…and why, oh why, was Grey not here?

With a patient but determined sigh, her mother stood up and thrust the teacup in front of her as she circled the room again, nearly knocking Emily backward with surprise.

“Emily, your tea.” This time, the offer was not a request.

“Yes, Mama.” With a sigh, she sat on the gold-striped settee across the tea table from her mother and accepted the cup. Her mother meant well, making certain she ate even this tiny bit, but she had no taste for the stuff.

In fact, she’d had no appetite at all since leaving the inn yesterday morning. She’d swallowed only a few bites at lunch today and then mostly because she didn’t want to offend Cook, who had been so worried about her lack of appetite after returning her breakfast tray completely untouched that the woman had come upstairs herself to inquire after her. A quick look now at the tray loaded with cinnamon biscuits specially made for her told Emily that Cook didn’t believe her protests that she was fine. Her eyes misted at the generosity and concern of the household staff when they hadn’t seen her in two years.

“You need to eat, my dear, especially now that you are increasing.” Her mother held up a small plate of tiny cucumber sandwiches—also her favorites, and her eyes blurred even more that Cook remembered a detail that small about her. Her mother’s voice was soft with concern as she added, “I know you are still tired from traveling, but you must think of your baby’s well-being.”

His well-being? Emily nearly laughed. That was nearly all she’d been thinking about for the past five months. Oh, her mother genuinely worried about her, she supposed, but the irony grated—the same woman who now fretted over her unborn grandchild had banished her own daughter for one foolish kiss.

Emily reached past the sandwiches for one of the biscuits, hoping to find some comfort there, if not her appetite.

A noise sounded from the street. She jumped to her feet so quickly that she nearly spilled her tea, only for her hopeful heart to plummet when she heard the singsong refrain of the rag-and-bone man.

She slowly sank back down onto the settee and raised the cup to her lips.

Her mother drew a deep breath and asked quietly, “Does Major Grey know that you are in love with him?”

The teacup tipped in her surprised hand and splashed a puddle onto the Turkish rug. “Pardon?” she squeaked.

“Major Grey,” her mother repeated with a long-suffering sigh, only adding to Emily’s mortification that her mother would raise this topic, of all topics, with her. “You are in love with that man, and most likely have been since you were sixteen and saw him riding up to Ivy Glen in his scarlet uniform.” With a faint, wistful smile, her mother shook her head as if she knew herself what it felt like to lose her heart to a young officer the way Emily had lost hers so long ago to Grey. “A young lady would have to be blind not to find that sight dashing.”

Emily’s heart skittered uncontrollably. Good Lord, how was it possible that her mother knew what she felt for Grey? Carefully keeping her reaction as even as possible so she could deny it, she slowly returned the cup to its saucer, only to be given away by her trembling hands and the soft clinking of the china.

“But that is all it is, my dear,” her mother assured her firmly yet not unkindly. “Only a dashing sight, nothing more. And a lady must always remember to look past the uniform to the man beneath.”

A blush heated her cheeks. Oh, she’d certainly seen the man beneath! She set her tea aside before she spilled it again. “Major Grey is a fine man, Mama,” she defended. There was no point in attempting to hide her feelings.

“Yes, by all accounts, Major Grey is a good man.” A slight chagrin darkened her face as she clarified, “Although his reputation with the ladies leaves much to be desired in the sort of companion I would have chosen for my son.”

Her eyes flew up to meet her mother’s, and Emily stared at her, wide-eyed and speechless. There was a compliment buried in there somewhere, under many layers, yet still a compliment…for Grey. Heavens, she couldn’t have been more surprised if Mama had just declared pigs capable of flying!

“And from what I have personally seen,” her mother continued grudgingly, carefully pronouncing each word as if it cost her great pain to admit it, “he is devoted to Thomas, and his loyalty to this family and to his country is beyond measure.”

Oh, that was definitely a compliment! Yet hearing it come from her mother’s lips did nothing to soothe the unease rising inside her. Not when she knew how little her parents liked Grey and would gladly toss him completely from Chatham House if not for fear of losing Thomas’s favor.

Mama raised her cup to her lips. “However—”

There! There it was, the shift she’d expected. Emily steeled herself against the insults certain to be unfurled against Grey now.

“He is also an army officer and War Office agent.”

Emily forced down her rising ire. “I know exactly what he is,” she corrected softly. And what he was…was magnificent. Kind and caring, protective and brave, determined to secure a better life for himself—everything she could ever want in the man she took into her arms…and in a husband, should she ever dare let herself hope for that. “I also am quite aware of his faults.” And happily willing to overlook them. “So please do not attempt to turn my heart against him.”

Her mother’s face softened with remorse. “That is not my intention, but you must remember who he is.” She lowered her cup to the saucer perched precariously upon her knee. Her eyes never raised from her tea as she said, “No matter what rank he achieves, he will never be a gentleman.”

Frustrated anger simmered low inside her that her mother should denigrate him so, the man who saved her life and her baby’s. The same kind, caring man who made her feel loved and special. “Is that why you and Papa dislike him so much, because that’s how you see him?” she demanded bluntly. “As nothing more than a blacksmith’s son who dared to kiss your daughter?”

“Yes, we dislike him,” her mother acknowledged quietly but sincerely, her eyes softening as they lifted to meet hers. “But not for the reason you think.”