Chapter 11

“My word!” Violet declared as Grace stepped into the opera house behind her. “Well, I remember the day when we as bluestockings wanted attention. I’m beginning to regret that wish now.”

“Strangely, I heartily agree with you, Violet,” Grace murmured. As they had stepped into the opera house, it seemed every pair of eyes had swung toward Grace.

She felt as small as she did when her mother was reprimanding her. It had been a day since the Duke had barged into her house and declared they were to marry. The scandal sheets published that morning had talked of a planned betrothal, but it had not been enough to dampen the scandal completely yet.

“They speak like hissing fires,” Eleanor observed on Grace’s other side as whispers tore around the room.

Grace’s friends closed in around her. Eleanor and Violet flanked her, with Diana following close behind. Out in front were Violet’s and Eleanor’s husbands, Xander and Dorian.

“Don’t think about it, Grace,” Dorian said with soft words, glancing back at her. “They soon find another scandal to talk of, and you will be old news.”

“When?” Grace asked with such an ironic tone that her friends all smiled in humor.

“I suggest we go straight to the box,” Xander said, striding ahead of the group. “The less time we are out here being gawped at, the better for Grace.”

She was happy to follow him along with the others. They cut across the foyer of the building, heading to the doors at the far end to take their seats. As much as Grace tried to ignore the whispers around her, she could not.

“Seen clasped in his arms. Oh yes, she was,” one woman’s words reached her ears.

“From what I heard, it was quite a bit more than that,” another claimed. “There were skirts higher than around her ankles.”

Laughter from gossiping ladies followed these words. Grace halted sharply. She was so disgusted by the innuendo that she turned back, intent on saying something, but Violet and Eleanor caught each of her arms and dragged her back again.

“Oi, I had something to say to them —”

“Yes, and much good would have come of it, wouldn’t it?” Violet murmured.

“It’s best to stay quiet,” Diana added, following close behind.

“Where are they even hearing these lies from?” Grace asked in defiance, turning her head back and forth. “Like your formal brother would ever be seen with a lady who had her skirt higher than her ankles anyway.”

“Please don’t.” Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “I do not want to think about my own brother in such positions.”

The others laughed at her words, but Grace could find no reason to smile.

Something in what the Duke had said that morning had led Grace to believe that he had experience when it came to women. He knew exactly how to excite her.

He’s had lovers, I’m sure of it, even if he has been subtle.

“This way,” Dorian called from up ahead.

They left the main foyer, stepped through some doors, and made their way up a spiral staircase. Near the top of the building, they stepped out into a private balcony box that overlooked the rest of the auditorium and the stage.

“Beautiful,” Diana murmured, taking her seat at once and staring around in awe.

Grace sat beside her, quite unable to take it in though she had a feeling it had more to do with the way Eleanor and Violet sat down on her other side, staring at her, clearly intent on speaking.

“I am sorry I did not have the chance to come and see you yesterday,” Eleanor said, stifling a yawn as she placed a hand to her swollen stomach. “This baby is making me so tired that I could not drag myself out of the house more than once.”

“It is no matter.” Grace shook her head. She tried to shift her attention to the stage, but the performance hadn’t yet begun. That unfortunately meant Eleanor and Violet had more time to interrogate her.

“I cannot believe this has happened,” Violet murmured. She sighed loudly and leaned forward. “Someone else must have seen you that night. Someone saw you together while I was walking. Though I’m still not sure how His Grace ended up there in the first place…”

“Eleanor, I’m so sorry.” Something crumpled in Grace’s chest with Violet’s words as she looked at Eleanor.

“Whatever for?” Eleanor asked, her brow crinkling behind her spectacles.

“For dragging your brother into scandal. Him of all people!” Grace muttered. “No one would think him capable of it. It’s my fault, all my doing.”

“Really? Is that what you think?” another voice joined them. They all turned in their seats to see that Celia had turned up. She was a little late and adjusted the shoulder of her gown as if it had been rumpled by a man’s touch.

“Where have you been?” Violet asked, a knowing look in her eye.

“Nowhere.” Celia smiled and sat down on Diana’s other side though the smile didn’t last. “It is I who should apologize to you both.” She looked between Grace and Eleanor. “I didn’t realize how much trouble my dare would cause. I thought it would be a distraction for you, Grace. If I had known that it would come to this —”

“In my opinion, you both need to stop apologizing.” Eleanor cut into the conversation. “If anyone should apologize, it is my brother. Is he not the one who kissed you, Grace? Is he not the one who compromised you?”

“He always seems so rigid of manner, so dignified,” Diana murmured.

“Exactly.” Grace nodded.

To her mind, the Duke was beginning to become a man of contradictions. He was Eleanor’s formal and dignified older brother, the man who had barely spoken to her over the last few years, for she was not the sort of company he would keep out of his own choice.

This image was a far cry from the way he had kissed her though, and the possessive way he had spoken about making her his before she ever dreamed of taking a lover.

“Everyone is looking at me tonight as if I have the plague,” Grace whispered. She had leaned forward, looking at the stage again in anticipation of the play about to begin, yet she had merely caught sight of the myriad of people sitting in the stalls who were looking up at her instead. “This is insufferable.”

“Grace,” Dorian’s voice called from the other side of the box, “the best thing you can do when scandal falls is to ignore it. Trust me.”

Beside him, Xander nodded silently in agreement.

“Well, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Eleanor said with an amused glance at her husband. The heat in their shared gaze amazed Grace, and she was not the only one to see it. Even Diana on her other side inhaled sharply in astonishment.

To be looked at like that. What must it feel like?

“Ah.” Violet fidgeted in her seat. “Well, it seems there is now another looking at you, Grace.”

“Who?” Grace asked, sitting sharply forward.

“Eleanor, why didn’t you say your brother was coming?”

“What!?” Grace actually managed to fall out of the seat. She would have fallen completely to the floor had Diana not caught her under the arm and righted her. “He’s here?” She looked back and forth, searching for him.

“I had no idea he was coming,” Eleanor’s words came fast. “Where is he?”

Violet pointed straight across the auditorium.

When Grace’s eyes found the Duke’s, she froze perfectly solid.

He was seated in the other private box though unlike the busy party on her side, there were just two of them in his own. The Duke sat beside a man she did not recognize, his manner stiff and unyielding.

Unlike some of the men gathered tonight who had taken off their tailcoats to bear with the strong heat, the Duke of Berkley had quite determinedly kept his on. His untidy hair he had done his best to tame though it distracted Grace.

She was rebelliously thinking of running her fingers through it, perhaps burying her face in his neck and inhaling that masculine cologne, when Diana’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“That is some look, Grace,” Diana whispered.

“That it is,” Celia agreed with a nod. “I can’t figure out if it is a look of hate or something else entirely.”

“What else would it be?” Grace barked with a laugh, scorning at such an idea. “He must detest me. He has been backed into a marriage now all because of my foolishness. I wouldn’t blame him for hating me.”

Her friends all hurried to speak, but in that moment, they had to fall silent as the curtain was raised at the opera began. The strong notes of the opening Aria began, but Grace’s gaze slipped back to meet the Duke’s.

He was looking at her the way he had looked at her when she had talked about taking other lovers.

There is possessiveness in that stare.

For some reason, she didn’t mind it.

* * *

“Ready?” Philip said impatiently, jumping to his feet as the closing curtain fell.

“You seem in a hurry,” Aaron pointed out, standing too in order to follow him. “I take it you are not going to ignore her tonight then?”

“I have no intention of ignoring her.” Philip hastened out of the box and crossed through the corridors, aware that Aaron was following closely behind him. Aaron said nothing but just fell into step, his movements matching Philip’s own.

When they appeared back in the foyer, Philip craned his neck back and forth, searching for Grace. He was already irritated at her, for he had looked more at her in the opera than he had at the stage. It angered him, and he shifted that fury in her direction though he knew deep down his staring was not of her doing.

I could not look away.

She had worn another one of those ridiculously frilly gowns he could not stand with the high collar. All he had pictured doing as he stared at her in the other box was tearing it from her throat and chest.

“There she is.” Aaron pointed across the foyer.

Grace was indeed there. She was gathered with Eleanor and her other friends as well as Dorain and Xander, Violet’s husband, the Duke of Barlow.

“You’ll come and speak with them?” Philip pleaded as he led the way across the room.

“I promised to come to the opera with you, not to make merry with strangers.”

“Please,” Philip added. “I could do with a friend right now.”

Something in Aaron’s rigid expression softened, and he nodded.

“Thank you.”

Philip crossed close to the group. Grace hadn’t yet noticed his approach, for she was much busier in talking to her friends. When he reached her side, he caught her hand. A breathy gasp escaped her as she turned to face him. With lightning speed, he kissed the back of her hand, not bothering to linger.

If I linger, I’ll be too tempted.

“Your Grace,” she muttered, her tone dark as she curtsied.

“Well, this is interesting,” Lady Celia said from across the group though Philip thought he caught sight of her sister, Violet, elbowing her in the gut to keep her quiet.

“You’re starting whispers,” Dorian added from his place beside Eleanor.

All around the foyer, many people were facing the two of them now that Philip had Grace’s hand in his own. She was trying her best to retract it subtly, but he wouldn’t let her.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Philip hissed at his brother-in-law, trying to remind him of the way in which he had ended up marrying Eleanor in the first place. “Pay the whisperers no attention,” he said to Grace, noting the way her lips were firmly pressed together.

She was the picture of defiance that was more familiar to him now, her head lifted high. He bent toward her, feeling a longing to make sure the gossipers had something more to talk about. Placing his lips near her ear, he whispered for her only to hear, “I have obtained the special license.”

He then leaned back, watching as her lips parted into a perfect ‘o’ shape. Apparently dumbstruck, he took the opportunity to move on in the conversation.

“Well, everyone,” he said, turning to address the group at large, “meet my friend, Aaron Baxter, the Duke of Rawley.”

“The soldier?” Xander said, clearly recognizing the name at once. He bowed in greeting as did Aaron.

“That’s me. Just returned from the front line.”

The group fell into conversation, leaving Philip the chance to focus on Grace without being watched. His eyes tarried on the high neckline of her gown. He burned to ask her why she wore such ridiculous things. She must have noticed his gaze, for though her head was turned toward the others, as if she paid attention to them, she fidgeted restlessly.

“Did you enjoy the opera, Your Grace?” Diana, often the quietest of the group, spoke up.

Philip turned to see that she had in fact addressed Aaron with these words. To his mind, she seemed a little uncertain of Aaron, perhaps even afraid. She’d ended up standing next to him and didn’t quite dare raise her gaze to meet his as she attempted to make conversation.

“It was fine,” Aaron grunted in reply.

Grace’s hand slipped out of Philip’s own. He turned to see that she had stepped away from the group, waving at another. His gut tightened in anger as she walked a few steps away.

She had seen the Marquess of Morton, who was now approaching her to speak.

The memory of Grace leaning toward the Marquess of Morton on that bench made Philip want to growl aloud. He barely kept himself in check.

“Do you like opera in general?” Diana was trying again to make conversation with Aaron, for the others had broken off into their own chatter.

“Yes.”

“Are you a secret romantic, Your Grace?” She tried a smile, daring to raise her eyes this time to meet Aaron’s though he didn’t seem bothered to look at her at all as he spoke.

“No. I just like that their problems are false.”

Philip sighed. Sometimes, he thought Aaron could have done with a little more tact in conversation. He was as ever, constantly and indisputably honest.

“If you would excuse me, I’ll take my leave for the night.” Aaron bowed to her in parting and then to Philip too. “I’ll call on you soon.”

“Goodnight,” Philip said woodenly, for he was keen not to pay attention to Aaron and Diana anymore. His eyes slid to where Grace and the Marquess of Morton were talking together. She laughed heartily at something he said. Philip’s palms grew clammy, and he stepped away from the group. “Lord Morton,” he cut easily into the conversation, struggling to force a smile.

Clearly remembering their meeting from a couple of nights ago, Lord Morton’s smile faltered.

“Oh, erm, Your Grace.” Lord Morton bowed in an odd and alarmed way. “We were just talking.”

“So I saw.” Philip took hold of Grace’s hand. “If you would excuse us.” Without another word, he drew her away.

She was so startled by it that she stumbled, nearly falling into him. He halted enough to look back at her with raised eyebrows.

“Do you have to fall over even if there isn’t anything to trip on?”

“Do you have to interrupt every conversation I have with Lord Morton?” she hissed, mimicking his tone.

He led her all the way back to the group, taking a firmer hold of her hand now.

“Grace.” He moved his lips close to her ear again. “You must not smile like that at other men.”

“What do you mean?” She leaned away from him, so they could look one another in the eye. “You were the one who assured me he was… you know.” She hastened to explain with a wave of her hand, looking around them. Plainly, she didn’t want to be the guilty party to oust Lord Morton’s secret in public.

“You belong to me now,” he reminded her in a heated tone. He drew her hand across his arm, settling it into the crook of his elbow. “Not to him.”

Her honeyed eyes narrowed. It was a perfect look, one that both riled him and antagonized him all at the same time, so he was quite lost as he stared at her. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feel the sweatiness of his palm as he held onto her, and most of all, he could hear her breathing.

“You forget something, Your Grace.” She spoke with flawless rebellion. “I do not belong to you yet.”

That low growl escaped him which he had been doing his best to keep in check before.

She will.

He was picturing everything now as he stared at her. He imagined tearing her free from that ridiculous gown. He saw himself untying her stays with his teeth then grabbing her chemise and throwing it over her head. He wouldn’t be happy until she was completely bare beneath him, without a stitch on her.

Only when all her curves were on show would he take that perfect body. He would slide himself into her when she was ready, when she was panting for him, her core wet and aching for him.

“What does that look mean?” she whispered.

“You don’t want to know.” He tore his gaze away from her. He thought so much of that wedding night, he could feel his length stirring in his trousers.

“Well, perhaps it’s time we depart for the night,” Dorian said from nearby. “We shall escort you home now.”

“Allow me,” Philip cut in. He had no desire to lose Grace from his arm just yet. “I’ll take Ladies Grace and Diana home. Lady Violet, you can get back to your child sooner, and Eleanor, you can get some rest.”

It was the perfect plan though he felt Grace’s hand grow wooden on his arm.

Something tells me she is not looking forward to being alone with me again.