Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

A ndrew made his way into Lord Childers' house, nodding and smiling at various other guests, all of whom he was acquainted with. There came one or two knowing looks, one or two gentle, teasing smiles, but Andrew did not respond to any of them. Instead, he greeted his host, took a glass of whisky from the tray held by the footman, and then made his way directly towards Lord Glenfield.

"Good evening." He gestured to the rest of the room. "It is quite a crush, is it not?"

Lord Glenfield chuckled.

"It is just as I expected it would be. Lord Childers is known for inviting far too many guests and then cramming them all into his townhouse, though I believe he has opened the library, the parlor, the terrace, and even the gardens, so there should be a quieter room somewhere. Though you are not particularly inclined towards quieter spaces, are you?"

Andrew winced, though he grinned back at Lord Glenfield at the same time.

"I may not have always been, no," he said, with a chuckle. "Though I should go in search of Miss Hawick, I think."

"Oh, they are unable to attend this evening." Lord Glenfield lifted his shoulders in a shrug as Andrew shot him a frown. "Miss Lillian Hawick informed me that they were attending Lord and Lady Rutton's card party this evening."

"Oh." Disappointment settled in Andrew's chest, and he frowned at the sensation, disliking it intensely. "I did not know."

Lord Glenfield's lip curved, a knowing look in his eye.

"You are sorrowful that she will not be in attendance."

"Sorrowful?" Andrew scoffed, shaking his head. "Not in the least."

His friend grinned but said nothing more and yet, that knowing look on his face remained. Andrew tried to ignore it and, much to his relief, was soon lost in conversation with two other gentlemen who came to speak with him though, much to his frustration, Miss Hawick still lingered in the back of his mind.

I almost kissed her again in the bookshop.

It had been a most extraordinary – and most astonishing – thing for him to want to do and, though he had managed to resist it, though he had managed to pull back before he had done such a thing, that urge had lingered long within him.

"How goes your courtship, Lord Kentmore?"

Andrew pulled himself out of his thoughts, looking to Lord Telford.

"My courtship is going very well, I thank you."

Lord Telford's eyebrows lifted.

"Indeed? Then you are not about to bring that to an end?"

A gentle frown pulled at Andrew's forehead.

"End my courtship of Miss Hawick?"

The gentleman nodded just as Andrew shook his head, a little surprised at how the thought distressed him.

"I have no intention of doing so, no."

"Then you might consider betrothal?" the other fellow said, as Andrew's frown grew darker, his heart squeezing.

"I think that is something that the Marquess can decide for himself, including when it is that he wishes to speak of it."

Much to Andrew's relief, Lord Glenfield came to Andrew's rescue, so that he did not have to give any sort of explanation.

"Though you must see how extraordinary it is for you to now be courting a young lady!" Lord Telford interjected, just as Andrew had been about to change the conversation entirely. "You were behaving just as you always have done, up until a few weeks ago, and now you are entirely altered! Little wonder that there are some who are saying that your absence from society once that announcement had been made was an indication that you had no real interest in the lady. That is why they are now waiting for you to make an end of the courtship, given that, by now, you have probably enjoyed all the fun that you can take from that connection."

Andrew scowled.

"I do not behave improperly in any way with Miss Hawick," he said, a twist of anger in his voice which made the smile on Lord Telford's face crumple. "Be assured of that."

Lord Telford looked away and a strained silence grew between them, making Andrew's face grow hot. With a look at Lord Glenfield, he excused himself from the group, quite certain that there would be more conversation about him after he had left.

The situation with Miss Hawick was something that he was trying very hard to put from his mind, though he was struggling to do so, unfortunately. The way that she had looked into his eyes, the desire within him to pull her close, and the connection between them which had been developing in its intensity, was making his heart yearn for even more of the same. Yes, he had always wanted to pull various young ladies into his arms, and had done so multiple times and on various occasions, but with Miss Hawick, it appeared to be quite different.

"Though when she asked me if I would give up my roguish interests, I did not consent," he reminded himself aloud, making his way to the gardens in the hope that the cool night air might calm his mind and his hot cheeks. "I do not have to do anything. I did not want to wed in the first place! If I wish to, then I can go back to being as I have always been once our wedding trip is at an end. There is nothing wrong with that!"

Those words did nothing other than spike guilt in his heart. With a low groan – and ignoring the looks of those around him – Andrew strode out of the French doors and into the dark of the gardens, glass still in hand.

I do not want this.

His heart fought back at him as he told himself, repeatedly, that he felt nothing for Miss Hawick and that his desire to return to being a rogue was not only true but understandable. After all, he had never wanted to wed and was being forced to do so and Miss Hawick knew precisely the sort of gentleman he was.

Andrew hung his head, coming to stand just beside a small fountain, the moonlight dancing on the water.

But I am changing. I am not the same as I was when I first kissed her.

Letting out a long sigh, Andrew lifted his glass to his lips and drained the amber liquid, hoping that it would bring him some relief. He had enjoyed speaking with Miss Hawick about his interest in art – an interest which he had not pursued in some time – as well as listening to her speak with such passion about the written word. There was more than just a physical connection between them and that frightened him, for it was beginning to alter him in a way that he had not expected. The thought of bringing her pain, of seeing it shine in her eyes, was even more unbearable than it had been when he had written that poem. Could he really turn back to the rogue he had been?

"I do not want to change."

Rebelling against his own heart, Andrew took another breath and made to turn around, intending to go back into the house and find something to do, whether it be cards or simply conversation so that he could forget entirely about Miss Hawick.

Someone came to stand in his way.

"Lord Kentmore. I am sorry to hear that you are now courting a young lady."

Andrew blinked, recognizing the voice of the lady before him, though he struggled to make out her features. Their host had opened up the garden, yes, but he had not thought to light it in any way.

"There is no need to feel any sort of sympathy for me, I assure you."

The lady laughed softly, her hand going to his chest in such a familiar way, that Andrew knew that he had shared a connection with her previously.

Inwardly, he pulled away from her, taking a small step back so that her hand fell away.

"You are being very good about it all." Lady Faustine's voice was gentle, almost tender. "No doubt there is a reason that you are courting her, for I know that you, being as you are, would never have willingly turned to marriage. I do hope that it was not my tardiness at the ball that brought this circumstance to you?"

Realizing that it was Lady Faustine he spoke with, Andrew let out a slow breath.

"Lady Faustine, good evening. Yes, I am sorry that we did not meet that evening."

Andrew frowned as he spoke, realizing that he was not sorry in the least, though the words were spoken regardless.

"That was the evening that your courtship with this Miss Hawick became apparent." Lady Faustine tilted her head. "There must be a reason for it. We have not had a chance to speak about that, as yet, but I presume that it is because you were found in a somewhat compromising position? One that you cannot now escape from?" She laughed softly as Andrew frowned heavily. "You are not the first scoundrel to have been caught so."

"Indeed."

With a shake of his head, Andrew made to sidestep her, but Lady Faustine put out one hand, catching him.

"Come now, Lord Kentmore! You cannot tell me that you will willingly turn away from me now, merely because you are courting?" Her hand went to his shoulder, then lifted to his neck as she came closer to him. "We have not yet shared any sort of connection this Season. I have been seeking a time to find you, to be alone with you, and this is the moment that has presented itself – and I have been waiting for a very long time." Andrew swallowed tightly, confused at his own reluctance. Had he not been eagerly looking forward to stealing Lady Faustine into his arms only a short while ago? Why now was he feeling as though he ought to push her away and, thereafter, step back into the house, leaving her in the darkness? "Lord Kentmore, you are a little reluctant, I think!" Lady Faustine's laughter made Andrew wince, his heart shadowed as he fought to find clarity. "It cannot be because you are afraid to be seen, given that the gardens are lit only by moonlight. Come now, do not push yourself away from me simply because you are courting another! I know – all without you saying a word – that there is no genuine interest there. The Marquess I know would never permit himself to be so lost to matrimony!"

Andrew steeled himself, pushing away his conflicting thoughts as best he could.

"You are quite right, Maria," he said, using her forename given the connection they had once shared. "I have never wanted this situation for myself."

"Then there can be no reason for you not to permit yourself the same freedom as before," she murmured, her breath hot against his cheek. "No reason whatsoever."

Before Andrew could say a word, before he could protest, the lady had lifted her head, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his – and Andrew recoiled in one, intense moment. It was as though his body reacted without his awareness, pushing her back from him and stumbling back into the darkness of the garden, his stomach twisting and his body going hot and then cold immediately thereafter. A sense of revulsion overpowered him, and he wiped his mouth furiously with the back of his hand over and over again.

"What are you doing?" Lady Faustine's voice was high-pitched as Andrew resisted the urge to spit hard on the ground, as though that might help him remove every single trace of her from him. "Why did you push me away?"

"I do not want this." Andrew's words tore harshly from his lips, disgust still rearing its head within him – disgust at both his previous actions that had brought her to him in that way, as well as her present determinations. Shame at his weakness thrust itself through his heart and he closed his eyes, his chest heaving. "Never again, Lady Faustine. Never ."

There came silence for a long moment, only for the lady to come towards him, one finger pressing hard into his chest.

"This is because of her, " she hissed, her anger clear. "It is because of what she has done to you that you now turn away from me! What is it that she has said? Is there some hold on you that I cannot know of? Some promise, some whisper that binds you to her in a way that you cannot free yourself from?"

Andrew shook his head, taking another step back. He could not explain it himself, could not find a way to understand it but yet, all the same, the thought of taking Lady Faustine into his arms again made him almost nauseous.

"I cannot ever be to you as I have been," he said, a little hoarsely. "Never again."

Lady Faustine lifted her chin, her eyes glittering in the moonlight.

"You are rejecting me."

"I am telling you that I will not be as I have been to you," Andrew stated, a sense of relief flooding him as though he knew that this was exactly what it was that he needed to do. "What we shared, it is now at an end, Lady Faustine."

"But… but what if I do not wish it to be?" Lady Faustine's voice held a tone of slight desperation now, though Andrew could only shake his head. "What then?"

He spread out both hands.

"That means nothing to me, Lady Faustine, not any longer. I cannot continue in this way, not any longer." Dropping his hands back to his sides, he stepped away from her. "Good evening."

"Wait!"

Her hand was on his arm, but Andrew pushed it back, moving away from her as quickly as he could and feeling his satisfaction growing with every step.