Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

G race paced the morning room, every nerve in her body sizzling with tension since Lucien had disappeared into her father's study. It felt as if the two men had been sequestered forever, instead of the half-hour marked by the clock on the mantel.

"Whatever can they be speaking about?" Helen fretted. "Your father sounds quite angry, but I cannot make out what they are arguing over."

Grace knew, full well. Her father's fury was evident, despite the muffled words, yet Lucien's tone of voice never rose to betray any emotion.

"I cannot understand why your Papa dislikes his lordship so much," Helen said quietly. "He seems quite gentlemanly and is very rich."

She had been nattering on since the men had disappeared behind the study door, and Grace was beginning to consider the merits of using her handkerchief to gag the woman so she might have some hope of hearing what was going on behind closed doors. At that moment, the door opened, and the men came into the chamber. Her father's hair stood on end as if he'd torn at it with his hands, a devastated look on his face.

It reminded Grace of the day the doctor had told them Mama was going to die.

"Is it true what Lord Everdene claims?" Papa demanded, his eyes begging her to end this nightmare. "Did he compromise you?"

Grace felt as if she were swallowing a stone. "Yes."

Anger, shame and desperation flared in her father's face.

"We did not mean for it to—to happen," Grace said, "but we found ourselves quite carried away."

Lucien gave her a bracing smile. "You may be sure I would not pursue this, were it not for my high regard for Lady Grace. From the moment we renewed our acquaintance?—"

Her father wheeled on Lucien. "All parliament knows that the Viscount Everdene never does anything without a self-serving purpose! Did your father put you up to this? Some sort of sick revenge? I should call you out!"

"Papa!"

"Vernon!" Helen cried.

"Far better to escort your daughter to the church to be wed." Lucien looked so tall, strong and in command that he made her father seem small.

"You will make Grace miserable," Papa asserted.

Lucien's jaw clenched. "I think Lady Grace would be far more so were she exiled to Scotland as you've planned." At the cutting remark, sweat beaded her father's face. Lucien crossed to her, took her hand. "No one is more surprised than I to discover Lady Grace is essential to me."

She looked at Lucien, stunned. Was he attempting to soothe her father's concerns? No. He met her eyes, just the hint of a wry smile curving those sensual lips.

"Speak to your daughter," Lucien said. "Ask what she wishes."

Papa sputtered in outrage. "Grace, tell me you do not wish to wed this man."

Grace drew a deep breath. "I do wish it," she said. "I know this is a surprise to you, and an unwelcome one. But the truth is, I am old enough to decide for myself. I do not to need your permission, Papa, but I hope I might have your blessing."

Helen rushed into the exchange, flushed with enthusiasm. "Of course you will give it, won't you, Vernon? Have we not been urging Grace to make a match? And now she has done so, with one of the most sought-after bachelors in the kingdom!" Helen turned to Grace. "When do you wish to marry?"

"We shall be wed as soon as the banns are cried," Lucien said.

"There is no need to rush," her father insisted. "Lady Elliot and I planned to give Grace the pleasure of a London season after her own was cut short. To pamper her with gowns from the best modistes, the finest parties and entertainments. That will give you time to consider whether this match is wise."

Lucien slipped his arm around Grace's waist. "As my viscountess, Lady Grace will have her choice of invitations, her choice of modistes and milliners. I can see no purpose in delaying our nuptials now that we've decided to wed."

Helen clasped her hands, blissful. "Oh, Vernon. Never mind new gowns for the season! We can plan her trousseau instead! We will leave for London as soon as may be! Just think, our Grace—a viscountess, and someday, Countess of Ravenscroft!"

Few things had given Lucien more pleasure than seeing the look on Vernon Elliot's face when he'd realized he would not have the power to control Grace's future. God knew, Lucien had seen that dictatorial attitude visited often enough on his mother, his sisters, and other women he'd encountered. What a hellish space to inhabit, the reality that the reins of your life would forever be in the hands of someone else, merely because you were a woman.

It felt damned good to put a stop to it in this one instance. He could hear whoops and footsteps pounding in the hall just outside the door, the young Elliots running riot, no doubt. That was all this contretemps needed. Three pirates who hated him. Please God, let them veer off and torment someone else, Lucien thought.

Of course, Lady Elliot trilled out an invitation. "Children, come hear the wonderful news!"

It was all Lucien could do not to clap his hand over the woman's mouth.

The boys thundered into the room, jostling each other in a jumble of arms and legs, their clothes askew and some unidentifiable substance smearing the littlest one's nose.

"Your sister is to be married! " Lady Elliot exclaimed. "She is to be Lady Everdene! A viscountess !"

If Grace's father had looked dismayed, the three boys looked stricken. Avery's freckles stood out like pox on his ashen face. Ethan huddled close to his older brother while fat tears welled on Bennet's lashes.

If this was an example of Lady Elliot's mothering skills, no wonder the boys were in full rebellion. Doubtless, Grace had wanted to tell her brothers she was to be wed herself, breaking the news in her own reassuring way. There could be no chance of that now. Lucien doubted a cannon salvo could have had greater impact.

Avery glared at Grace, betrayal flashing in his eyes. "You promised you wouldn't leave us."

Lucien could see Grace try to gather herself, groping for some way to repair the damage Helen had done. "That is the wonderful thing about this marriage," she said, giving him a gentle smile. "I won't be moving far away. Lord Everdene lives close enough that you and I can visit as often as we like."

"Will you read stories to us and tuck us in?" Bennet asked. His bottom lip trembled.

Ethan elbowed him. "Course not."

"We're too big for that anyway," Avery said gruffly. "We only let Grace do it because…because she's used to it." If he'd been a head taller, Lucien thought, he'd have been calling for pistols at dawn.

Grace knelt, trying to gather them into her arms. None of the boys were having it. They strained back as if she'd slapped them.

"You'll be going off to school yourselves soon," she said, burying her empty hands in her skirts. "But when you come home for holiday, I'll be close enough to visit for dinner, to hear all of your news. We'll still have outings by the lake, and?—"

"You promised you wouldn't leave," Ethan asserted stubbornly.

She swallowed hard. "It was wrong of me to promise that."

"So you lied!" Avery snapped.

Lucien could see Grace's throat constrict. "Sometimes, life…changes in ways we—we can't predict," she began.

Helen cut her off. "Why, look at your dear papa and me! Who would have thought we would marry and be so happy?"

Oh, yes, that will help, Lucien thought. Remind them of the last catastrophic change in their lives. Could the woman not see she was making things worse?

"A promise is a promise!" Avery cried, then spun to face his sister. "You can't leave us with her !"

A shudder went through Grace, and Lucien sensed she was fighting back tears.

"Avery!" Lord Elliot boomed. "You will not speak of your stepmother that way! I demand you apologize this instant!"

But Avery was beyond fearing his father's wrath, the focus of his heartbreak on the sister who had always sheltered him. "I'll never forgive you if you marry him!" he vowed, then he spun to run out of the room. At the last moment, Avery veered toward Lucien and balled a fist, slamming it into his stomach with all the strength in his small arm. Lucien doubled over in surprise as pain radiated from the fencing wound Cassandra had dealt him.

"Avery!" Grace cried. "Oh, Lucien!"

He straightened, one hand on his chest. "Let him go," he said, trying to suck in a steadying breath as the other boys pelted after their brother. "Emotions are rather high at the moment. I think we could all use some time to cool down. Perhaps…a bit of fresh air in the garden would not come amiss." He eyed Lord Elliot. "My man of business will wait upon you with the marriage contracts," he said. "If there are any other matters to discuss, I will be in the steward's house near Everdene Hall."

Helen's brow puckered. "Surely as lord of the manor, you reside in the manor itself. If it becomes too crowded, others in your family can decamp to another location."

Lucien leveled her a chill look. "I am not in the habit of debating my choice in living arrangements with anyone, Lady Elliot."

Helen's hand fluttered to her ample breast. "Of course…I only…I just…"

"Lady Grace?" Lucien said extending his arm. Grace slipped her hand through it, and he led the way through the hall. Partway down, he eyed a black mark on one of the silk peacocks.

"No wonder your brothers deface the wallpaper," he muttered under his breath. "She's lucky they don't draw a mustache on her while she sleeps."

Though he wanted to lighten her mood, she gave a soft sniff. He was the very devil when it came to dealing with crying women. But somehow, the notion of Grace in tears chafed.

He led her to a small arbor in the garden where they would be concealed from the house. There, he handed her his handkerchief.

She accepted it gratefully, dabbing at her eyes. "I am so sorry you had to endure that family scene," she said. "Helen's prattling…my father's outburst…I don't know what got into him."

"Probably an understandable sense of caution."

"And my brothers…they were distraught, but I'm appalled that Avery struck you." Her voice cracked. "You must let me look at your wound again to make sure he didn't break it open." She reached for the front of Lucien's waistcoat, but he gently grasped her fingers in his.

"My dear, much as I look forward to your lovely hands on my bare chest, I prefer to wait until our wedding night. I fear your touch would undo me."

She flushed. "You are trying to distract me."

He canted his head, eager to prevent feminine waterworks. "Is it working?"

"Oh, Lucien…" Her voice cracked. "The boys…my heart aches for them. It was wrong of me to promise them that I would never leave. I know that now, but at the time, I would have said anything to soothe them."

"Even had you not agreed to marry me, it was inevitable that you would leave—or they would grow up and leave. They'll get over it in time."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?" he asked, taken aback.

"When your sisters left for Italy. Did you get over it?"

Jesus. Lucien looked down into those hurting, haunted eyes. "My dear, there is no comparison between my sisters and your brothers."

She fidgeted with the signet ring winking on his finger. "Do you think before the wedding we might be able to show them where we are to live? Remind them of how close we'll be living?"

Lucien recoiled inwardly, but said, "Of course—preferably when I am not at home."

She gave a watery chuckle. "Thank you. Perhaps seeing the horses again will ease things. I don't suppose you have a supply of toads available?"

"Horses will have to do."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Thank you! You won't regret it!"

He already regretted the confounded family complications his decision had produced. But those lips…so tempting and pink, the sparkle of tears on her spiky lashes, and the hint of a smile were too much for him to resist. He framed her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, felt his blood heat as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. She opened to him, and then he was tasting her, sampling deep secrets yet to be revealed. She pressed her body against him, and he knew she could feel him harden against her. He trailed kisses down her throat, had a fleeting thought…they should have eloped. If they had, he could have her in his bed by nightfall.

At last he drew away. Her gaze found his, her eyes hazy with desire.

Possessiveness shot through him. Soon she would be his wife…"Perhaps this marriage is not what you imagined, but I think we will deal well together," he mused. "From the moment I pulled you out of the water, I wanted you in my bed."

He reached into his pocket, drew out a small velvet box, and opened it. A ring gleamed against the blue velvet. It was a large diamond, square cut, fit for a future countess. Lucien lifted her hand and slid the cool circlet onto her finger, vaguely displeased with the way the diamond looked on her hand. Some instinctive reaction to a step he'd sworn never to take?

"In three weeks' time you will be my wife," he said, as much to himself as to her.

Grace gave him an uncertain smile, and he suddenly wondered if she might change her mind. Her father might talk her out of it, or his sisters might…No. This is what she wanted. She was the one who had proposed to him .

"I hope you will be satisfied to stay in the steward's house for a brief time after we wed," Lucien said. "My presence in Everdene Hall makes it uncomfortable for my sisters at present. I wish for Jane to be able to settle in."

She peered up at him with a softness in her eyes, as if he were doing something selfless. "Yes, of course," she said. "How very kind of you. I'm sure the steward's house will be quite lovely."

Don't look at me that way , he thought. I'm not the man you think I am …"Of course, we will depart for Raven's Court, my townhouse on Curzon Street soon after the ceremony," he said.

"It will be a relief to have all this wedding fuss over with. Truth is, I am rather dreading the trip to the city with my stepmother," Grace confided. "I'm fearful I might end up in a gown scattered with peacocks."

"Mustachioed or not?"

She smiled, slightly. "Helen is most enthusiastic, but all I can think about is the fact that the last time I went shopping for garments in London, it was with Mama. Just before my first season."

Lucien's instinct was to change the subject away from something painful. Instead, he said, "Tell me."

"She was so excited. One of the happiest memories I have is Mama and I alone for once, without any of my brothers. I had her all to myself as we reveled in selecting gowns and slippers and bonnets. The shopkeepers treated her like the queen, and she was so warm to them all. I think…perhaps…she already had some inkling she was ill, though she never let on to me."

Grace twisted the diamond on her hand, as if it chafed. "There was this bit of Honiton lace, the most exquisite I'd ever seen and so expensive. She said it would be perfect to trim my wedding gown when I met a man worthy of my love."

Lucien felt a twinge. Had Grace dreamed of wearing it for her former betrothed? What was the blackguard's name again? "Did you mean to wear for Freyne?"

"No. He hadn't paid his addresses yet." She looked away, and he wondered if the deepening shadow over her countenance had to do with that disappointment in love. But then, she continued, the true source of her heartache evident. "I imagined my mother and I would have all the time in the world. Trousseaus to select. Baptismal gowns for babes when they came and clothing as they grew. She would have been the most wonderful grandmother."

I wonder what she would have thought of me. Lucien could well imagine. Barbara Elliot had been notorious for her forthright speeches. He could picture her reaction to the way he had secured her daughter's hand, and it would not have been pleasant.

"We never know what will come, do we?" Lucien mused. I never imagined you.

"No. There were so many things I took for granted."

The sudden loss, the grief, the wistfulness in her eyes tugged at that place where his heart should have been.

He imagined what this trip with her stepmother would be like for her.

A better man wouldn't let her face it alone.