While the Duke Was Sleeping (The Rogue Files #1)(71)

She choked back a sob and nodded, tears burning in her eyes. “Thank you, Bry. Yes. That would be nice.”



It was the day before Christmas and Struan had nowhere to go. No family. No friends noteworthy or special enough that they would miss him. He wasn’t even certain what home was to him anymore. England? Scotland?

Home was Poppy.

He banished the thought. How wrong was it for that thought to enter his head? He’d clearly gone mad. Poppy belonged to Autenberry. Autenberry had made certain he understood that when they spoke—along with the fact that Struan was not welcome in his home. Ever.

Poppy wanted the duke. She loved him. She flung herself in front of a carriage for him. Or believed herself to love him at any rate. In the end, the distinction didn’t matter.

He stopped at the first village and ordered himself a meal of mutton stew.

Before departing Autenberry Manor, he’d said his farewells to everyone except Poppy. He’d spared himself that. He didn’t care that his brother demanded he leave immediately. He owed proper good-byes to the dowager, Clara and Enid. They’d welcomed him as family.

“Is this Marcus’s doing?” Enid had demanded. “Oh, he can be such a stubborn mule.”

“It’s simply time for me to move on,” he’d explained. It wasn’t his intention to sour Enid on her brother. To a degree, he even understood Marcus’s motivation. He’d do the same thing in his position.

The ladies had refused to let him leave without exacting a promise from him to call on them when they were next in London. He’d made the promise, although he wasn’t certain he could keep it. The very idea of visiting them and seeing Poppy as Lady Autenberry, knowing she was his brother’s wife, was too much to stomach.

Struan sat at a table by himself near the window, eating his dinner and sipping his whiskey, scowling at any of the serving girls who dared approach. Through the mullioned glass, he watched people scurrying about with their full and busy lives.

This was all he had. A life of plenty. Wealth and whiskey.

A life without Poppy.

Nothing.

He poured another whiskey and contemplated drinking himself into oblivion. He might as well get a room for the night. He had nowhere to be, after all.





Chapter 27




“Poppy? Did you hear a word I’ve said? Come away from the window.”

She shook her head, not fully processing her sister’s voice. She fixed her stare on the busy street below. Her gaze scanned the crowded village, her mind spinning and heart aching.

She thought she’d seen Struan out there in the village. Of course, it couldn’t be him. It was just the longing of her heart, addling her vision and confusing her.

She covered her heart with her hand, pushing against the dull throb. She imagined her heart would do that for quite some time. Still go on. Still continue to beat even though it ached and twisted inside her chest.

Blinking several times as though to clear her vision, she focused her gaze again, narrowing it in on the hatless man walking in the opposite direction, away from the inn where she and her sister had taken lodgings for the night.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

It wasn’t her imagination. She’d know him anywhere. The shape of him. The set of his shoulders. His long stride. The glint of dark blond hair in the paltry winter sunlight. If she closed her eyes she could still feel him, taste him . . .

“Who?” Bryony came to stand beside her, startling her from her thoughts and making her jump a little where she stood.

“Struan,” she murmured, facing the mullion-paned window again. She had not expected to see him again. She didn’t know what was crueler. Never seeing him again or seeing him again and not having him.

“Uh, Poppy? You might be hallucinating.”

“No. It’s him. There.” She pointed, tapping the glass.

Her sister fell silent as Poppy’s gaze followed Struan weaving between people. She only caught glimpses of him here and there, but it was undeniably him.

Suddenly, her sister spoke up. “What are you waiting for, then?”

Poppy turned to gawk at her. “What do you—”

“He’s the reason we left. The reason you couldn’t marry the Duke of Autenberry.” At Poppy’s shocked look, she laughed. “Come now, Poppy. I might be young and, at times, not the best sister to you, but I’m not unintelligent. So what are you standing here for? Go after him.”

“It’s not that simple.”

She lifted her shoulders in a single shrug. “Isn’t it?”

“I rejected him, Bryony. He won’t be kindly disposed to me at the moment—”

“And what is the worst that could happen, Poppy?” She tsked. “He could reject you? You’ve already faced that before and by someone you didn’t love. This man you do love. I daresay he’s worth the risk.”

She opened her mouth to deny that she loved Struan, but what would be the point? It would only be a lie. She loved him. What she felt for Edmond was a pale shade of what she felt for Struan. There could not even be a comparison. One had been real. The other an illusion.

Shaking her head, she smiled at her sister. “When did you suddenly start becoming such an adult?”

“I have eyes,” she retorted. “I can see you both belong together—that you want to be together.” She snorted. “The man did not even respond to my flirtations and not many men can do that, let me assure you.”