Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

B y the time Lucien returned late that afternoon, Raven's Court seethed with words unspoken, anger unresolved, lies told. Unseen dangers made his spine tingle with a foreboding he had not felt since the weeks before his mother and sisters were swept away.

When he had left hours earlier, Grace had been rushing about like a dervish, airing guest bedrooms, amending meal plans and rearranging seating charts. She was the consummate political hostess she'd promised to be when she'd wed him, seeing to necessities despite her feelings of betrayal. A vise seemed to crush his chest at the memory of her hours earlier, her curls tumbling from their pins, her cheeks scarlet with fury and hurt. And he was grateful when Grace did not greet him now so that he could slip upstairs to his bedchamber alone.

Once there, he crossed to where a wooden chest stood on a shelf. Anyone who knew Lucien would assume it contained cufflinks, watch fobs and stickpins for his cravats, instead of those few keepsakes the most unsentimental peer in England carried with him wherever he traveled: Letters Simon sent while in the cavalry, a small ivory elephant from the Gold Coast, a hammered disc that had once decorated a Turkoman horse and a powder flask dropped by a tribesman in a skirmish.

But beneath those lay something that pained Lucien like shrapnel buried beneath old scars. Tonight he needed that grim reminder to steel himself for what was to come.

He found what he sought at the very bottom of the chest: The dented blue tin box he had kept with him since the night his world had crashed down. How long had it been since he had looked inside it? He couldn't say. But he forced himself to pry the bent lid open, the metal squeaking as he revealed what lay inside. He took the bit of cloth out, ran it through his fingers, strengthening his resolve to see Grace safe.

Tonight's confrontation would be the hardest thing he had ever faced. Yet, if there was one skill he had mastered at his father's knee it was this: How to disguise what he truly felt.

He heard steps marching toward his room and stowed the scrap away, knowing who approached even before the bedchamber door opened. Grace glared at him, looking so beautiful he gripped the tin box until the edges bit into his palm.

"So you've returned," she said. "May I ask where you've been all this time?"

"I felt it imperative to speak to my agent of inquiry regarding new developments."

"A courtesy you did not see fit to extend to me." Her chin bumped up a notch.

Lucien set the tin box in its nest of old letters, then shut the chest's wooden lid. "You have every right to be angry."

"You owed me the truth before we wed." Two spots of color heated her cheeks, her eyes snapping fire. "When were you going to tell me that you had sworn we would never live at Everdene?"

He fought to keep his voice level. "I swore that I would not live there. Your residence at Everdene was never in question. As I remember from the day you proposed to me, that was always the agreement. We will merely situate you there sooner than planned. Surely you can see it is the only reasonable course after the package that arrived this morning."

"So these past months, as we grew closer…Was that also a lie? "

Lucien ignored her question, maintaining his impassive expression with his reply. "Whoever sent that note knows they cannot intimidate me so they are making you a target. They not only discovered how important that toy is to you, they were able to get close enough to take it from your pocket. They could have done far worse." Voicing that truth set fault lines rippling through his control. "They could have dragged you into a carriage, kidnapped you, driven a knife between your ribs."

She nearly trod on his toes she stepped so close. Her eyes blazed up at him. "I'm not afraid."

" I am !" he roared, all control forgotten. "Jesus, Grace. Whoever took that toy was inches away from you. Knew that nothing— nothing —would be a clearer message to me of how much danger you were in." Raking his hand through his hair, he said in steely tones, "The morning after the party on Wednesday, Simon will take you back to Everdene Hall and you will go ."

"What about the danger you are in?"

"That is just part of being in parliament. Make unpopular decisions and the opposition gets angry?—"

"Well, I am plenty angry right now. I have been raking this over in my mind ever since you left today, and do you know what I think? I think you are using this threat as an excuse to put distance between us because you are beginning to care for me."

He couldn't look away as the words struck their mark, her eyes defiant, so fierce, yet revealing just a hint of fear. It thrust a spike into his heart.

He clenched his fists. "Can't you see I'm trying to protect you? It is pure luck that you weren't trampled in the riot or injured by a flying brick. I won't risk it, I tell you."

"Well, I won't keep being pushed away because of some mistake you made when you were just a boy. If you insist I leave you once the party is over, I will go. But know that I will be leaving you for good. I'll raise our babe alone."

"Babe?" Lucien felt as if he'd been poleaxed. Words snagged in his throat and for a heartbeat something flared inside him. Disbelief, then awe. He grasped the edge of the table. "You are with child?"

"You need not look so shocked," she said, crossing her arms protectively over her middle. "It cannot be surprising news, considering how often we lay together."

Lucien inhaled a deep breath. "No. I suppose not."

Now a brand new fear stabbed him, imagining the dangers she faced in childbed, dreading that he would be a father like his own and scar his children. But a babe…his babe growing in Grace's womb…

"If I am no more to you than a bargain made, why didn't you tell me we'd not live at Everdene in the first place?" Grace demanded. "I will keep your damnable pact if you can look me in the eye and tell me these past weeks have been a lie."

"Grace—"

" Tell me! Are you the Lord Everdene so many people warned me about? The man who struck that cold contract? The ruthless man who lied to me. Or are you the husband who bathed me so tenderly after the riot? Who carried Sibby Rose to safety? Who let Scrap play with a pocket watch. Are you the man I see on the pillow beside me when I wake, looking at me as if…as if I am precious to him and he can scarcely believe…" Her voice broke, and tears brimmed in her eyes. " Who are you, Lucien ?"

He scarce knew anymore. The man he'd once been would not have hesitated to deal a necessary blow to drive her away. But he needed her like he needed his next breath.

"You want to know why I didn't tell you I'd not live at Everdene? Because I am a man who has always taken what I wanted and I wanted you. When we encountered Freyne at Gunter's and I saw the way he looked at you, I knew telling you about my agreement with Cassandra might push you into that bastard's arms and I couldn't endure it. I didn't want to love you. Hell, I didn't think I was capable of any such feeling, but somewhere between the moment I pulled you from the lake and the night of the riot I knew." His voice broke. "I love you, Grace. The thought of you being hurt because of me…it's my worst fear come real."

Tears brimmed in her eyes. "Living without you is mine."

She took his hand, brought it to her stomach. "This babe…it's part of you," she said softly, "part of me, made from our love."

"When is the child to come?"

"Sometime in May."

He closed his eyes, cradling that spark of life in his palm. He had never known anything more worthy of defending than this woman, this child.

Sliding one hand around her nape, he drew her mouth to his, kissing her so gently he felt her smile.

"I'm not made out of glass, Lucien. You won't break me."

He was still afraid for her, and yet…this was Grace…"You are the strongest person I know. I didn't even know what love meant until I staggered out of that lake and saw you with your brothers. I only know that I want to be the man who sees your eyes shine. I want to be the man who kisses pink frosting from your fingertips and holds you when you weep over characters in books and children in factories. I want to fight alongside you to change things, things I've only seen because you wouldn't let me look away. Because if it is possible to change things for the factory children, it is possible for me to change as well."

She raised her fingers to his mouth, stopped him.

"You are not the only one who has changed since we've been together. I had lost myself after Mama died. I was so busy caring for everyone else. You…saw me . Dragged me back out into the world where I felt…felt everything. Anger. Grief. Passion. You helped me remember what it meant to see things through my own eyes, not everybody else's. You wouldn't let me keep surrendering myself to what other people wanted for me."

"You have the right to choose."

"I do." She cupped his jaw in her hand, and he felt those delicate fingers rasp against his beard. "I choose you. Whatever is to come."

She drew him toward his bed, the one they had never slept in. Slowly, he unfastened her gown, slid the bodice off of her shoulders, taking his time undressing her until she stood before him in all her naked loveliness. He skimmed his hands over the slight swell of her belly, the fullness of her breasts with their darkened nipples, and he wondered how had he not known she was with child.

"You are so beautiful," he praised as she helped him shed his own clothes, his skin heating with each brush of her fingers. "We will fight this together, my love. And when it is over…" He laughed suddenly, surprising himself, and she turned her sweet face up to his.

"I so love your laugh. When it is over—what?" she asked.

"For the first time in my life, I don't know what comes next. I have no idea how to be a good father. How to be the husband you deserve. But swear I will learn."

He scooped her into his arms, lay her upon the coverlets, then followed her down.

"We will fight whoever is behind these threats together," Grace said as he traced her cheek with his fingertips. "I love you, Lucien. We cannot have come so far in our love to have it snatched away."

Lucien buried his face in her neck, breathing in the sweet, jasmine scent as he covered her body with his own.

He worshiped her body like the miracle she was, infusing everything he felt into making love to her, his beautiful, brave wife who had dared love him.

But even as they lost themselves in release, he held her with a fierceness that nearly undid him.

He knew just how devastating it was when the one you loved was snatched away. And the man stalking Grace was still out there, somewhere.

A snake preparing to strike.