XII

After listening to Lesly's advice, Grace left the room with a mix of fear and determination. Each step she took brought her closer to the beginning of a dangerous game, one where trust would be her only weapon and freedom her prize. Anxiety swirled in her chest as she adjusted her dress, one that hinted at elegance without revealing too much, finding the perfect balance between modesty and distinction.

Despite her composed exterior, she was trembling inside. Her mind kept reminding her to be cautious, that every move needed to be calculated. She couldn't afford a single mistake. She reminded herself that she wasn't doing this for pleasure, but out of necessity. Yet, the fear of what could happen if she failed hit her like a storm.

When she reached the ground floor, the cook looked up and eyed her with curiosity.

" Miss Aylett, do you need anything? " she asked, always ready to help.

" His Lordship will be back soon, " Grace replied, her tone neutral, hiding her inner turmoil. " I want everything ready for his arrival, including his bath. "

The cook nodded with a smile and left to make the necessary preparations. Grace stood alone, staring out the dining room window, trying to calm her nerves. She felt something inside her growing tighter, like a bowstring about to release its arrow. She had to stay firm. Determined, she walked to the vestibule, where the butler patiently awaited the marquis's return. But today, it wouldn't be him welcoming Marcus—it would be her. She positioned herself by the door, feeling an odd mix of nerves and resolve.

The sound of hooves echoed just as the clock struck six. Grace felt her heart skip a beat as she heard Marcus's arrival. Ryder, as always, stood straight, ready to welcome his master, casting her a puzzled glance as her presence seemed out of place.

" Miss Aylett, were you looking for me? " he asked, realizing it was him she had approached.

Trying to maintain her composure, Grace shook her head gently and smiled.

" Oh no, Mr. Ryder, " she replied calmly. " I'm waiting for His Lordship to arrive. "

The butler frowned, more confused than before. Thirty years of service in noble households had taught him not to be easily surprised, but this left him speechless.

" Is there something wrong, miss? " he asked, trying to mask his bewilderment.

" Not at all, " Grace answered with a smile that aimed to project confidence, though inside, she felt the weight of every decision she was making.

Before either could say more, the sound of hooves grew louder, and both turned toward the door. Westlin had arrived. Grace swallowed hard, trying to steady her nerves as she awaited his entrance.

Marcus dismounted his horse with fluid grace, handing the reins to the stable hand without much thought. The furrows on his brow and the tension in his face hinted at a long, difficult day, but when his eyes met Grace's, something changed. The hardened expression on his face softened instantly.

" Welcome home, my lord, " Ryder greeted him with a slight bow.

" Thank you, Ryder, " Marcus replied, without taking his eyes off Grace, clearly surprised to find her there instead of the butler.

The surprise on his face quickly turned to suspicion. What was she doing there, greeting him as if she were the mistress of the house? His dark eyes narrowed, trying to decipher her intentions.

Grace held her ground and, to her own amazement, decided to take the initiative.

" Good evening, Marcus, " she said softly, using his first name for the first time. " I thought I might accompany you to your study, if you don't mind. "

Westlin studied her, clearly perplexed or perhaps so taken aback that he didn't know how to react to such an unusual situation. Grace's informal, familiar tone was something new and unexpected. His curiosity was instantly piqued. With the ease befitting his station, he handed his gloves to Ryder, followed by his coat, before finally turning back to her.

" What do you want? " he asked, his tone serious as he began walking toward his study.

" Nothing in particular, " Grace answered, striving to sound casual. " I was just feeling a bit lonely and thought perhaps we could have a chat. "

Marcus didn't respond right away, but his instincts told him there was more behind this behavior. Still, he decided to play along, intrigued by her true intentions.

" Very well, " he agreed, stopping momentarily without looking at her. " Join me. I could use some company. "

With that, Grace took a few quick steps to catch up with him. She smiled, waiting for Westlin to resume walking.

As they walked towards the study, the tension between them grew with every step. Grace, though nervous, stayed focused on her plan. Every move, every glance, had to be calculated. Marcus, on the other hand, couldn't stop watching her out of the corner of his eye, growing more concerned with her behavior.

"What are you up to, dear?" he muttered to himself, noticing how Grace moved beside him with a natural elegance.

Upon reaching the study, Marcus headed straight for the decanter to pour himself his usual glass of brandy, but Grace stepped forward first.

"Allow me," she said kindly, moving closer than necessary.

Marcus watched her, even more puzzled. Something was happening, something beyond his understanding. Yet, he decided not to stop her.

"As you wish, dear," he responded, eager to see how far she would go.

Grace delicately took the brandy bottle and poured the liquor into the glass. As she did, she leaned slightly, allowing her perfume to drift toward Westlin, who noticed it immediately. When she handed him the glass, her fingers lightly brushed his, holding the contact just a moment longer than necessary.

Marcus felt a strange sensation ripple through him. He knew the touch of her hand hadn't been accidental. What unsettled him most, however, was that he couldn't quite grasp what Grace was trying to achieve. Something within him began to feel off balance, though he refused to admit it.

As he took a sip of the brandy, Westlin couldn't stop thinking about Grace's gestures. Every move she made seemed loaded with some hidden intent. Was she trying to get closer to him? Or was she merely trying to distract herself? He couldn't be sure, but one thing was clear—his own reaction to her was becoming more unsettling.

"Something's not right here... focus on what you're seeing, and think it through," he told himself, watching how she moved with a spontaneity he hadn't noticed before.

Grace, fully aware of his gaze, continued with her plan. She walked over to the study window and looked out towards the garden.

"It's a beautiful afternoon, don't you think?" she commented, attempting to start a light conversation.

Marcus moved closer, keeping a bit of distance. A beautiful afternoon? It was storming outside, and the sky wasn't just gray—it was black!

"If you say so," he replied cautiously. "But did you really come to talk about the dreadful weather London has endured since the beginning of the year, or are you after another kind of conversation?"

Grace smiled softly, turning her gaze towards him.

"You're right. The small talk was just an excuse to enjoy your company," she admitted.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, growing even more intrigued.

"My company?" he repeated, unable to hide his surprise. "What's brought on this sudden interest?"

Grace held his gaze, trying to project confidence.

"I've spent a lot of time in this house without truly knowing who you are, Marcus Baxter, Marquess of Westlin," she said. "Since you're my captor, maybe it's time to understand what kind of past you're hiding that's made you hate me so much."

Marcus took a moment to consider her words. There was no longer any doubt that Grace was acting strangely, though he still couldn't figure out why.

"I don't hate you," he conceded.

"You don't?" she asked, her eyes widening in surprise, a mix of happiness and disbelief appearing on her face.

"No," Marcus confirmed, locking eyes with her. "But you understand I had no choice. Cassian needed to marry the woman he loved, not a false countess."

Grace felt a knot form in her stomach as she listened. That topic was resurfacing, and she had to do everything she could to prevent it from creating tension between them.

"I had to do it," she replied sincerely. "It was a promise I made to the countess, and I had no other option."

Marcus studied her closely. There was a sincerity in her eyes that disarmed him, but he couldn't forget that he still didn't know the full truth about her.

"Why did the countess ask that of you?" he finally asked.

"Because she didn't want to die without ensuring my well-being," Grace answered, her voice steady and honest.

The silence that followed was charged with expectation. They stared at each other, both trying to read the other's thoughts. Marcus decided to change the subject, wanting to ease the tension. Though he had learned something unexpected, he wished for her to gradually release the pressure she seemed to carry.

"Would you like me to ask Ryder for some blackberry tea?" he offered, knowing her preferences well enough to recognize this would bring back the smile that had disappeared after her confession.

"I'd love that," Grace accepted, grateful for the offer.

Westlin called for Ryder and requested the tea. While they waited, they sat together. The atmosphere became more relaxed, and time passed quickly. They didn't speak again. They remained in silence. Westlin busied himself with the documents on his desk, all the while keeping an eye on Grace as she focused on the book she was reading. He felt comfortable—so much so that he found himself imagining how wonderful his life might be if Grace were always by his side.