Page 21 of What A Rogue Wants (Lords Of Deception #1)

“Shh,” Madelaine said instead of certainly not. She’d been humiliated quite enough. “Don’t worry about that right now. Just get some rest.”

By the time Madelaine climbed into her own bed she felt certain she was so exhausted she’d fall promptly asleep and not have to think about Grey. But sleep evaded her. Worry, on the other hand, kept her close company and caused her to toss and turn in bed for some time.

Had she been a challenge for Grey because she hadn’t fallen into his bed as many women must?

Clearly, whatever she’d been, he’d tired quickly enough of her.

She squeezed her eyes closed, determined not to think of him any longer.

Dwelling on Grey wouldn’t change the fact that instead of coming to his aunt’s apartments to see her, he’d gone off with his friend to a tavern known for its willing wenches. A dull ache strummed in her chest.

Was she judging him too quickly? After all, the ladies of the Court and the queen had judged her and never given her a chance.

What if he had a logical explanation? She snorted.

She doubted he did. She was just indulging in wishful thinking.

If on the slightest chance he did and he approached her and begged to speak with her, she would possibly listen.

But until she heard his explanation and judged for herself whether it was true she would proceed as if he was a rake after all.

Her heart twisted. This was the way it had to be no matter how it hurt.

She needed to put him in her past and focus on her future.

Her most pressing concern now was really her father.

No doubt in the morning he’d want an accounting of how her husband hunting was coming.

He was going to be disappointed with her, and the notion of disappointing him made her chest tighten.

Starting tomorrow, she’d force herself to master all respectable feminine accomplishments, and do her best to be the daughter her father deserved.

The next morning Madelaine went to check in on Elizabeth.

She looked worse rather than better, but the doctor was on his way, so Madelaine regretfully left to hurry to the king’s Audience Chamber to greet her father before she had to tend to the queen.

Halfway up the stairs, her step faltered and her heartbeat raced.

Grey stood at the top of the steps. Was he looking for her to explain?

She needed to be detached, unless he gave her a reason to be otherwise.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin.

“Madelaine!” He bounded down the steps to meet her.

“Good day, Lord Grey.” She forced her leaden feet to climb the steps.

Her treacherous heart skipped when he fell into step beside her.

She glanced at him and wished she hadn’t.

There’d probably never been a man who looked as fine as Grey did in a deep, blue coat.

The color matched the stormy hue of his eyes.

Forgiving him would be so easy, but she couldn’t be foolish, unless he had a sound, solid explanation.

He nudged her arm. “You’re cross.”

“Why ever would I be angry?” Did he expect her to do all the work for him? He needed to grovel and beg and explain. “My father is here for a visit, so my heart is light.”

“Your heart may be light, but your eyes are heavy with daggers.”

She snorted. “Such a witty tongue you have. Did the women last night find you clever?” Blast. She was a miserable failure at pretending she didn’t care.

“See—” He grabbed her hand and tugged her into an alcove at the top of the stairs. “You are upset. I’m pleased I’m already learning to read your moods.”

She snatched her hand away. Gads! If only she’d not let her emotions overcome her, she would have chosen her words more carefully.

His fingers grazed the sleeve of her dress and curled around her elbow.

An involuntary shiver went through her at the warmth of his hand seeping through her silk to singe her skin.

“Please, Madelaine. Give me a moment.”

Was this more seduction or the accounting she longed for? “I used all my spare moments last night waiting on you. I’ve none left. Now if you’ll excuse me.” She looked pointedly at her elbow. If he had nothing to say to defend himself, she had to make herself go.

Dropping his hand, he sighed. “You’ve every right to be angry, but I can explain.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Now they were getting somewhere. “Let me guess, more equerry training?”

“Yes!” He raked a hand through his hair. The motion drew her notice to the utterly disheveled mess. Frowning, she swept her gaze over the rest of him. His clothes were fresh and pressed, but his hair hadn’t been combed, a hint of dark stubble graced his face, and—she discreetly sniffed.

“You smell of whiskey, smoke and—” She sniffed again.

The unmistakable spicy scent of a woman’s perfume lingered on him.

Anger swelled inside of her. He dared seek her out to continue his game after spending the night with another woman.

Did he think her dull-witted? Expect her to believe his pathetic excuse of more equerry training?

She tilted her head back. “Did you just get in?”

“Not long ago, but—”

She held up a palm, glad for the anger that pushed her sadness away. “Did you spend the night with a woman from the Merry Tavern?”

“Certainly not. I spent the night passed out on the floor of the tavern.”

She arched her brow. “I feel so much better knowing that.”

“You confound me.” He cleared his throat. “For once I’m trying to properly court a woman, and what do I find?”

He looked so forlorn that she couldn’t help but ask, “What?”

“It’s much more bloody difficult than I ever imagined.”

“Then quit bothering. You’re doing an awful job of wooing me anyway.”

He leaned away. “I feared as much. I’ll just have to try harder.”

“Don’t.” Her heart lurched at his pronouncement. If he tried harder, she might succumb again. He’d not given a good enough explanation. He wasn’t to be counted on.

“I’m afraid I’m rather mule-headed when set on a course. I know you don’t believe me, but I was forced to go to the tavern against my will.”

“You’re right,” she snapped. “I don’t believe you.

” Not wanting to listen to anymore of his lies, she bounded away from the alcove and ran smack into an oncoming person.

The collision took her breath away, but she managed to maintain her footing.

Constance was not so lucky. The chambermaid fell backwards onto her bottom, the laden silver tray she’d been carrying clanked to the floor with enough noise to make Madelaine wince.

“I’m so sorry, milady.”

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Madelaine reached to help Constance up, but before the woman clasped onto Madelaine’s hand, Grey appeared and kneeling, helped Constance to her feet.

Madelaine scowled at his interference, but she couldn’t very well be cross with him for lending a helping hand.

She bent to pick up the chambermaid’s forgotten tray and when she rose, Grey and Constance were staring at each other rather peculiarly.

Neither of them spoke a word. A funny, queasiness assaulted Madelaine, worsened by Constance’s strong, spicy perfume.

Madelaine looked from Grey to Constance, her stomach plummeting. The sudden dryness of her mouth forced her to swallow repeatedly. “Constance, do you ever get a night off?”

“Rarely. But the queen was in a generous mood yesterday and excused myself and another chambermaid for the night.” Constance’s gaze lingered on Grey.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself.” A dull ache pressed behind Madelaine’s right eye.

She lifted her unusually heavy arm to rub her temple.

The best thing for her heart would be to forget Grey and let her suspicions lay unconfirmed.

But she couldn’t do it. She had to know if he’d been at the Merry Tavern with Constance.

“Did you get to leave the castle and enjoy yourself or were you trapped here?”

Grey shifted from foot to foot, his gaze darting from Madelaine to Constance. Her queasiness intensified. The chambermaid looked at her oddly, and no wonder. Ladies-in-waiting didn’t converse with chambermaids let alone inquire as to how they spent their free time.

“Lady Madelaine.” Grey touched her elbow, and she instinctively pulled away. He’d hurt her once, she was not about to let him hurt her again. Worry creased his brow. “Your father is walking this way.”

Blinking, she glanced down the corridor, lifted her hand and waved. It was as if she was in a dream. Another person going through the motions, but her body was moving. Her heart pounded in her ear. She had seconds to secure an answer. “Where did you go?”

When Constance’s gaze flew back to Grey’s, and his shoulders sagged as he dipped his head as if to give her permission, Madelaine ground her teeth.

She didn’t need the chambermaid’s words to confirm what she now knew.

“Never mind,” she said, barely above a whisper and turned to meet her father before he reached her.

As Madelaine scurried down the hall, Constance’s words, “Too bad for you she’s a clever one,” echoed to her.

Clever indeed. She pasted a smile on her face for her father’s benefit. Not astute enough was more like it. A shrewd woman would have heeded the rumors about Grey and stayed as far away from the rake as possible.