An Unforgettable Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page A

for her. But the fact remained that if he had baldly told her his true reason for marrying her, she would likely have married him anyway. God knew, if she had known she would lose him, she certainly would have agreed to be his wife. Though then, she would have demanded to be a wife in deed as well as fact.
    Lord, she was a love-struck fool, an idiot, a detestable weakling, who deserved what she got, because despite all of it, she was deliriously happy to have him back.
    She loved him that much.
    She only wished he loved her a fraction as much. She particularly wished that he had kept the fact that he did not love her to himself.

CHAPTER FOUR

    Disgusted with her calf-eyed self, Alex gazed out at Bond Street, a jumble of tall brick buildings with few courtyards or alleyways to separate them. Signs proclaimed establishments such as John Jackson, Boxing Salon, known to the sporting set as Gentleman Jackson’s. They passed Yardley of London, Smith Adam & Charles, Linen-drapers, and Mr. Weston, the tailor Bryceson had once frequented.
    Alex’s heart sank as they passed Stedman & Vardon, Goldsmiths & Jewelers, which she and Bryce had visited on the day they wed, the day after he buried his father. As they passed, she wondered if he remembered the plain gold band he purchased for her that morning, and the wider one he had chosen for himself.
    She had worn hers until she arrived at Holy Trinity Church to marry Chesterfield earlier, removing it in the carriage before going inside. Even now, the precious symbol of her marriage to her one true love sat tucked in a velvet box inside her reticule. What fate had befallen his wedding band? she wondered, as she regarded his unadorned hand.
    Once they arrived at Stephen’s Hotel, Bryce seemed to struggle as he stepped from the carriage, though he did so in the same way his man helped him, without being obvious. Once he was down, Bryce turned to offer Alex a hand, and she took it, though she made certain not to burden him with her weight and quickly let go. She no more wanted him to lose his balance than to guess at her undying love.
    The impressive hotel stood taller and less soot-stained than most of the Bond Street shops. On the Clifford Street side, there waited a score or more saddle-horses and half as many tilburies. A six-horse dray—Barclay’s Brewery lettered in red on the side—was being unloaded of its delivery of wooden casks.
    In the front of the five-story structure, men milled about in groups, talking, laughing raucously, reeling from overindulgence. Some of them were obviously dandies, but most wore the reds and blues of the military.
    “Am I allowed inside?” Alex queried stepping closer to her husband’s side as they walked arm in arm toward the black lacquered double front doors.
    He patted her hand on his arm. “Stephen’s is mostly frequented by officers of the Guards—the Life Guards in red and the Royal Horse Guards in blue—but you, as my wife, will not be turned away. Though as the rare female among us, you will be much admired, I daresay.”
    That surprised her. “Admired? Me?”
    Bryce shook his head, as if she had made a poor jest. Alex wanted to call him on it, but they stepped inside the hotel and her attention was taken with the bustling activity and gentlemanly ambiance.
    “You will be safe from the crush beside the stairs,” he said. “Wait there while I fight my way to the desk to claim my key.”
    Feeling at sea, Alex kept her gaze trained on him while several men in uniform saluted as he made his way toward the front. She wished she could hear what he said that relaxed his subordinates and made them smile.
    Closer by, a military man in the red of the Life Guards mentioned Hawksworth by name catching her attention. “Excellent commander,” the handsome officer said. “Had the full respect of his men.” The speaker went on to say that Hawksworth was brave, forthright and had saved his men’s hides a time or two.
    One soldier shook his