His bravery was all an act. For just a few moments, she’d seen the real Grayson Delaney struggle with whether to return to The Spotted Goose and face the men who’d stared at him with such expectant looks on their faces. Or go back to his childhood home. She tried to recall his expression before the mask fell back into place, and the carefree, ne’er-do-well rogue of London he was reputed to be appeared once again. It was a practiced look, one honed to perfection by years of training to fool everyone into believing he was a scoundrel. Except…that lighthearted wastrel wasn’t who he pretended to be at all. Beneath the thick veneer of cheerful humor hid a serious side to his nature. A side that was tortured by something he didn’t want to face. And although she knew it had to be related to the fire and his mother’s death, she knew there was more. “Don’t expect too much when we reach Mayfair.” His voice startled her. He’d relaxed into the corner of the carriage the minute they’d pulled away from the inn and pushed his hat over his eyes as if he intended to sleep.
