To Want a Rogue

Gavin looked down at Sam, his gut clenching. Dahlia’s instincts were unfortunately correct. The man had indeed spiked a fever in the night and the infection now ravaged his body. The doctor had been here only the day before and had been pleased with Sam’s progress. What had happened?

Smoothing back Sam’s hair, he glanced into the corner, where Dahlia now sat, her eyes wide with fear, her face pale. He’d meant what he had said earlier. Facing the world alone was a bloody awful business. He’d been doing exactly that for the last few years and while he’d managed to grow accustomed to the loss, he still felt the void left behind. For a woman, however, the world was different, and more difficult. He’d made a choice that he’d bear the loneliness to avoid the loss. Unless Dahlia had a good inheritance, she wasn’t likely able to have the same choice.

“Do you have a dowry from your family?” he asked, still watching Sam’s face.

“No.” She answered him, her voice raw, as though she were about to cry. “We used every penny to send Sam to school.”

He nearly swore but managed to refrain. Last night, he and Sam had been talking after dinner. Looking back, he should have realized that Sam appeared paler than normal. Tired and drawn. But he’d been too engrossed in the conversation.

He’d learned that his little Dahlia was, in fact, a little liar. Mrs. Greenwich had been their tutor. Sam had mentioned her. And when he’d asked about Dahlia’s marriage prospects, Sam had simply said. “A great many have tried, but no one’s caught her yet.” Then Sam’s face grew serious. “We have one cousin, but he’s horrid. I would ask you to see to Dahlia’s future if I don’t live. I know it’s more than I have a right to ask.”

He’d clapped Sam on the shoulder. The thought of Dahlia going to some horrid relation filled him with a possessive anger he couldn’t shake. “You have my word.”

And he had meant it. Any plans he’d had for an affair had evaporated. Nor was he angry about the lie. In her position, he’d likely have done the same. In fact, a new idea was taking shape. If Sam didn’t live, he’d marry Dahlia himself.

He knew he’d sworn off the institution and he would be opening himself up to potential loss but Dahlia was strong and she understood him in ways so few women would. Life had dealt her more than one blow. He was attracted to her and she needed a man to support her. Granted, he’d have to maintain some emotional distance, but at least he could keep her safe, cared for. She would understand that bargain, he was certain.

Somehow, thinking of their relationship in those terms, a deal that bettered her life and allowed him continue his line made him feel less like he was betraying Amelia.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” He stepped away from Sam, crossing the room to where Dahlia had curled herself in a chair. “You look tired.”

Her face scrunched up. “I can sleep when I know Sam’s fate. He is the best sort of person. Gave up everything to care for me. He doesn’t deserve this.”

He pulled her from the chair and wrapped her in his arms. Her body fit against his in the most satisfying way. They’d surely be able to comfort one another. “I know. There’s no making sense of it. I’ve tried. When I lost Amelia—”

Dahlia jerked back, her face so white she might be mistaken for linen. What had he said that upset her? “Perhaps I should lie down after all.”

He gave a stiff nod. “I think that’s wise. Try to rest. The doctor says that there is still a good chance Sam will be fine. The fever could burn off the infection.”

She gave a stiff nod but said nothing.

He watched her retreat, her shoulders hunched. Gavin’s heart twisted in his chest. Tonight, he’d insist they eat dinner together and he’d talk to her about their future.

Chapter Seven

Dahlia didn’t sleep. Her eyes burned from the tears that lay in wait but she didn’t shed them. She didn’t deserve to grieve. She’d lied to Gavin and she hadn’t taken care of her brother. Her falsehood had been for naught.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. “Who is it?” she called, ceasing her pacing.

“It’s me.” Gavin called from the other side of the door. “I’ve brought dinner.”

Surprise made her start. She’d expected Agnes or perhaps even the butler. She crossed the room, her heart rising in her throat. She didn’t want to see him now. Somehow, his kindness only made her sorrier that she’d lied. But she opened the heavy wood panel door, not wanting to appear rude, and reached out her arms to take the tray. “Thank you.”

He didn’t hand it to her. “I thought I’d join you. There are a few topics I wish to discuss.”

Her stomach rolled. “Discuss?”

He gave her a bright smile as he entered. “First. Your brother seems to be doing better.”

“What?” She covered her mouth with her hand, relief making her shoulders sag.

He set the tray on the table. “He still has a fever, but he was able to drink some broth and it’s definitely come down. He’s sleeping far more peacefully now than he has all day.”

She reached for the post of the bed, leaning against it for support. Her legs threatened to give out, she was so relieved. “That’s so good to hear.”

Gavin crossed over, his hand coming to rest on her back. “I want you to know that either way, I won’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

Dahlia’s chest tightened. What did he mean by that? “Thank you?”