Chapter 10

“This way.” Grace closed a hand around the Duke’s arm and jerked him to the side. He stumbled, clearly in shock at what she had done though she didn’t stop. She dragged him all the way through the nearest open door into the music room then shut the door firmly behind them.

Confident that no one had seen what she had done, she turned to face the Duke. Her hands shot to her hips as she glared at him.

“What the hell was that about?” she snapped.

“What?” he asked innocently. “Before this conversation goes any further, Grace, do you think this is a wise idea?”

“What is?”

“Us being alone,” he murmured then his eyes traveled down her.

Grace stood taller, her jaw going slack at that look.

He cannot mean.

“It didn’t go well last time, did it?”

“Well!?” she spluttered. To her mind, it had gone well. It had gone too well. That was what had got them into this pickle in the first place.

“Forgive me if I put distance between us.” He purposefully rounded the large grand piano in the music room, putting an obstacle there. She followed him a little, stopping on the other side and planting her hands onto the back of the piano.

“What did you say to my father?” she asked in a firm whisper, glancing back at the door, fearful her mother would come looking and find her at any minute.

“What do you expect?”

“Any conversation you wished to have about me or about… marriage,” she struggled to say the word, watching as the corner of his lips turned up in amusement, “it should have been had with me. Not my father.”

“It’s not the way of the world, Grace; you know that.”

“Lady Grace,” she snapped, reminding him of the need to use her title.

“Not anymore.” He mockingly grimaced and shook his head. “A married man would hardly address his wife with her title, would he?”

Grace moved around the piano, silently, moving her hands fast as she approached him, but he went the other way, avoiding her.

“What did you say?” she murmured.

“I said, a married man. For that is what I soon shall be.” He came to a stop around the piano, having swapped places with her. “You wish to know what we said? Very well, I’ll tell you. I offered to marry you. Your father said you had no dowry though that is hardly relevant now. I shall marry you anyway. Then he alluded to what happened last night. You do not need to worry there. I spared him the details.”

A rage took hold of Grace like she had never known before. How dare he talk of such things in this room and after all that had passed? The memory of the way she had scandalously arched into him, how he had gripped her through the dress, was now appalling to her.

She marched around the piano, and this time he didn’t move to escape her. She raised her hand, determined to exact punishment for speaking in such a way.

“How dare you — oh!”

He took hold of her wrist before she could slap him across the cheek. He used it to jerk her toward him. She scarcely managed not to fall into him. One hand rested on the curve of the piano, keeping her standing, as the other hand was still caught in his grasp.

“Careful, My Lady,” he whispered in a deep husky tone. His eyes slipped down to her lips, and Grace felt her stomach coil tight. For a second, he said nothing. They both just stood there, tension radiating between them as he grasped her wrist. “Any hits between us will take place in one room only.”

“What?”

“They will be playful things in the bedchamber and nothing more.”

She hadn’t seen where his other hand had gone. She was not prepared for the light slap he made to her rear. Alarmed, she jumped back from him, snatching her wrist out of his hold. Ashamed as the feeling of his hand on her rear had made excitement course through her, she scrambled away from him around the piano again.

“That is some blush,” he murmured with a deep chuckle. “I do not think you exactly disliked that, did you?”

“I cannot believe you did that,” she muttered in a dark tone. “You are never to do that again.”

“Someday, you may beg me to do it,” he said, leaning upon the piano between them.

“Never,” she promised.

Silence fell again as they stared at each other. A wild picture entered her mind. She could suddenly see herself flung across this piano with Philip behind her. He was behind her, exploring her, then slapping her rear in a playful way, not hard enough to hurt but enough to excite.

“Your cheeks look ready to start a fire.” His words broke through her imagining.

“You can’t be intending to go through with this,” Grace said, doing her best to keep her calm. “I am just Eleanor’s friend to you. Nothing more. You can’t be considering marrying me for the sake of our reputations.”

“Reputations matter. Unlike you, I am not willing to leave mine in tatters wherever I go. If I could go back to an untarnished reputation completely, I would, but as I can’t, I’ll do the next best thing.” He spoke in a business-like tone.

It was as if all the flirtatious things he had just said hadn’t happened at all.

“Now, to the crucial points of this discussion.” He folded his arms across his chest, a man of formality and business.

Grace was doing her best not to think of the strong arms she could see pressing against the sleeves of his jacket in this position.

“I’ll obtain a special license. All being well, we’ll marry within a week.”

“A week?” Grace repeated. She felt weakened all of sudden, shocked at the speed of it all. Her palms planted onto the piano between them.

“Yes.” He nodded. “But if we are going to be married, there will be rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“Firstly…” He halted, looking down his long thin nose at her. “You will not show up in any scandal sheet ever again.”

“I’m hardly in control of that, am I?” she asked wildly. “I fall out of carriages as easily as another breathes. Writers like to talk of that for some God knows reason.”

“Then you hold my hand when getting out of a carriage.”

“I am not that pathetic,” she warned. “I don’t need to hold your hand to get out of a carriage.”

“We’ll see about that.” His eyes had grown hooded with something. She had no idea what he was thinking about, but the way his eyes had shot down to the frilly high neckline of her dress was a strange thing. His eyes shot up to meet hers again. “That’s the first rule. Secondly, my estate will be your home, so that means you can make any changes you wish to.”

“I can?” Grace stood straight, shock rippling through her.

“Within reason.” The Duke raised a finger in the air in warning. “Make it warm, change the décor as you like, but do not interfere with the order and systems I have in place. I have structure to my home, formality, and I wish it to stay that way.”

She reluctantly nodded. She had a feeling going into the Duke’s home would be rather like a bull walking into a China shop, but there was nothing she could really do to stop it now.

At least I will have control over my own home. I can change it as I like, change the wallpaper, buy new chairs…

The idea made her strangely happy.

“You will also stay away from my boxing room.”

“Boxing?” Grace spluttered. For a second, she was certain she must have heard him wrong, but the Duke fidgeted and didn’t correct her. “You box?”

“That is something none but the two of us will know either.”

She nodded hastily though her mind was working fast. The thought that the Duke boxed was an incredible thing to her. It suggested something wild beneath the rigid countenance he always wore. A ripple of excitement shot through her, something she had to tamp down hard on.

“Now, for the third and last rule.” Philip loosened his arms from his chest. He mirrored her stance, resting his hands on the piano between them. He was so much taller than her in this position, almost intimidating with his broadness of shoulders that she felt that stirring deep down in her abdomen again.

It was the same feeling she’d had last night when his fingers had gripped her hip tightly through the dress.

“You will give me an heir. Other than that, we can lead separate lives. You understand?”

Grace reeled. She was glad her hands were on the piano, for if they had not been there, she might have fallen over in shock.

He wants an heir? I have not even thought about children.

It wasn’t that she was against the idea of children. But she had never really thought of herself as a mother. Whether it was because of the lack of prospects in her future or her dreams of adventure, she couldn’t be too sure. But now, the Duke was demanding an heir.

That meant she would have to consummate the marriage. She would have to share the Duke’s bed. She would learn what it meant to not only share such a heated kiss with him, as she had done the night before, but to experience everything.

Her eyes ran down the length of him. She considered what it would be like to see the Duke wearing nothing, to see him in his naked glory, the strong chest hinted at through that tight-fitting jacket and the long legs.

The thought of being explored by him, of even being… dominated by him, made a wetness pool between her legs. Shocked at the sensation, she rubbed her thighs together beneath the skirt of her gown, desperate to feel some release from a sudden ache.

“Y-you want an heir?” she managed to stammer.

“Yes. Do we have an agreement?”

She couldn’t yet answer him. She was too shocked that he was speaking about having sex with her as if it was a matter of business.

“Look, Grace, you want your freedom, yes?” he asked. She nodded, mutely. “Then you will have it. We’ll spend a month together at the house. We’ll make sure you’re carrying a child, then after that, we can move apart. You can move to the townhouse or to the Dowager’s Hall on my estate if that is what you wish for. My mother has no liking for the place, so it will be free for you to use. You can do as you like there.”

“And if I’m not with child after the first month?”

“Then I’ll visit you until you are.” There was still that infernal formality radiating off him. He didn’t even let his eyes wander anymore.

“And that is what I shall be to you? Like breeding cattle?”

His expression darkened, his face leaning an inch forward and his chin tilting down. There was something dangerous in that expression, but at least, it was a change to the formality. She couldn’t resist wanting to push him further until all show of his formal reserve was gone.

“Let me understand this correctly.” She leaned forward an inch or so across the piano, moving closer to him. “When we are leaving separate lives, we will be free to take other lovers?”

Something snapped in the Duke. He marched around the piano with such purpose that Grace leaned back again. She turned, ready to escape him, but he caught the back of her frilly gown and used it to tow her back to him. She fell against the curve of the piano, planting her hands there behind her as he stood before her.

One of his hands rested on the piano cover beside her own, the fingers not quite touching though they were tantalizingly close to doing so.

He bent down toward her, his lips, finding the curve of her ear.

“I will not have you talking of other lovers when I haven’t even made you mine yet,” he hissed in her ear.

Stunned at the possession in the words, she trembled. A sort of pleasant shiver passed up her spine.

His hand moved from where it nearly brushed her fingers. She thought for a second that he might take her hand, but she was wrong. The stolen touch did not come to her hand but to her hip. He gripped her through the gown and used it to rock her hips toward him.

She inhaled sharply at the excitement rippling thought her as her hips briefly brushed his own.

“You’ll be mine first,” he warned, bending his head down toward her. Those burnished eyes were coming closer, those firm lips nearing hers. She was breathless, her mouth dry as she anticipated that kiss. He was about to kiss her again, plaster her with the same heat she had experienced the night before, but at this piano then —

“Ahem,” someone innocently cleared their throat.

Philip released her, stepping back. Abruptly, it was as if the spell had been broken. He moved away, adjusting his tailcoat, formality and reserve in his every movement.

“Grace?” Tabitha’s voice called from the other side of the door. She evidently was the one who had cleared her throat to make her presence known to them. “Your mother is looking for you, and she is heading this way.”

“Th-thank you, Tabitha,” Grace managed to stammer out the words as she called back to the door.

Tabitha’s steps moved away. In the quiet that followed, Grace looked at the Duke.

He was the regal brother to Eleanor again, standing at a distance from her, not a chink in the fixed expression he wore.

“Do we have an agreement?” he asked, not even looking at her, for his gaze was fixed on the door.

Grace thought of her father. She had so badly wanted to make her father proud of her in her life. She knew it must have been crushing him to see her name plastered across the scandal sheets yet again.

As for her mother, Grace doubted she could ever make her proud, but perhaps this would be a way to at least stop all the insults. Could Althea manage to like her a little more if she married and became a duchess? At the very least, a new home would mean she could escape her mother. She could run away from Althea, and control exactly how much she had to put up with the woman’s company.

Then there was Tabitha, too. Her poor cousin would suffer from association if Grace did not marry now.

I have no choice.

Grace raised her hand and looked at the Duke.

“We do,” she murmured.

He didn’t even spare her a second glance as he strode back toward the door.

“Good. I shall write to your father this week when the arrangements are settled.” Then he was gone, disappearing out the door and leaving her swaying against the piano.

It took her a minute to realize after he had left what he said.

He will not write to me. He’s going to write to my father instead?