The Dutiful Rake by Elizabeth Rolls Read Free Book Online Page B

was deadly serious.
    Throttling the urge to issue a series of autocratic decrees and carry her position by storm, Marcus asked equally quietly, ‘Will you tell me why not?’
    Meg thought about that, frowning slightly. It was none of his business, after all, what she chose to do with her life and the habit of keeping her own counsel was strong. But perhaps, having made such a kind offer, he deserved better than to have it flung back in his face without any explanation. She owed him part of the truth.
    Drawing a deep breath, she said, ‘To start with, I cannot possibly accept money from you. People would think—’
    ‘Rubbish!’ said Marcus. ‘I told you—’
    He was interrupted in his turn. ‘My lord, Samuel Langley didn’t give a damn for me! He made no pretence of that, to me or to anyone else. He died intestate because he was too miserly to pay a lawyer to draw up his will and the only reason he permitted Cousin Euphemia to take me in was because he saw in me a potential housekeeper he wouldn’t have to pay!’ She hadn’t meant to say that, but once she had started it seemed some of the anger she had kept leashed for years had come spilling out. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to take a deep breath, reaching for self-control. He must not know the truth…Marc she might have been able to tell…but not this cold, dictatorial earl.
    Seeing that she had silenced his lordship’s charitable lies, she went on more temperately. ‘So you see, I cannot take your money. And I most certainly will not impose upon your sister. I have not the least claim on her and, to be frank, sir, I do not wish to continue as a poor relation, dependent on another’s charity. I thank you for your kindness, but I will do as I had planned.’
    Silence hung between them for a moment. Marcus could definitely see her point. Obviously her position had chafed her, but he failed to see how it could possibly be better as a governess. Indeed it might, depending upon her mistress, be even worse. He knew of many fashionable women who treated their children’s preceptresses with undisguised scorn and the contempt of the strong for the weak, using them as underpaid drudges, blaming them for every piece of misbehaviour and overturning any attempt made to discipline their high spirited darlings.
    He couldn’t permit it. It was unthinkable. Something icy seemed to contract around his heart at the idea ofMeg at the mercy of one of those women. He didn’t say what was going through his mind. His emotions were far too confusing. Which was in itself confusing. Lord Rutherford always kept his emotions under strict control!
    So he fell back on issuing commands, using storm tactics. ‘Very well. You have made your point. Now that is said, I will send a message over to Mrs Garsby in the morning informing her of my decision. We will remain here for another week to allow you to recuperate, then I will take you to my sister. That is all. There is no more to be said on the subject.’ The firm lips clipped together and his eyes were as cold and impersonal as his voice had been
    ‘Oh. Very well, then.’ Again her eyes were downcast, her voice unassuming.
    He eyed her narrowly, suddenly suspicious of her meek demeanour. All at once her submissiveness seemed out of character. And he couldn’t put his finger on why.
    ‘You have nothing more to say, Meg?’
    Her Christian name slipped out unconsciously. He clenched his fist slightly. The name brought back all the intimacy of her illness. His body tingled at the memory of how she had snuggled up to him so trustingly. At the time he had not felt any physical interest. But now he was burningly aware of it. His estimation that she would be attractive when restored to health had not been wrong. Even now, when she was still out of sorts, her slender, lissom grace could not be obliviated by the shapeless excuse for a dress which hung on her.
    ‘No, my lord. Good morning.’ She dropped him a small curtsy and