Seduced by His Touch (18 page)

“Grace, I know you’re upset and angry, and you have every right to be. But let’s talk about this.”

“I think we’ve
talked
enough already.”

He walked around the desk. “But we haven’t. We can work this out. It’s true, I admit, that I agreed to marry you in order to pay the debt I owe your father. It was unforgivably wrong, and for that I’m sorry. But since I’ve known you, things have changed.”

“What things?”

His voice deepened. “Everything. You weren’t at all what I expected. I liked you, for one.”

“Liked
me?” she repeated on a skeptical note. “You
liked
me so much you were willing to lie, to manipulate and use me for your own gain?”

His gut tightened, her accusation hitting him like a roundhouse punch. “As I said before, I only lied when it was necessary, in order to keep you from knowing about the bargain with your father. Nothing else between us has been false.”

“Nothing else, hmm? So, you honestly enjoy attending lectures about flowers and plants, do you?”

Her question caught him off-stride. “What?”

“Flowers. Remember how you happened upon me that day at the botany lecture in Bath? Did you attend the seminar simply because you wanted to learn more about plants, or were you there to ingratiate yourself to me as part of your plan? Tell me our meeting that day was nothing more than a pure coincidence.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s what I thought,” she said, jumping to her feet. “Do you even know the names of any flowers?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then tell me. Name some. Name one.”

He opened his mouth to reply.

“And not the common name,” she insisted. “I want the genus and species.” Trembling, she reached a hand into her robe and drew out the pendant around her neck. “What about this one? What about these h-hollyhocks?”

He frowned and said nothing. Because he didn’t know.
Damn, why don’t I know?

A single tear slid over her cheek as she yanked hard at the chain. The thin gold links bit into her neck and held. But she gave a second vicious tug and it broke free. “Here, take it! I don’t want it! I don’t want to see it ever again!”

When his hands remained at his sides, she flung the pendant onto the desk.

Whirling away, she hurried forward. Her foot twisted beneath her, though, and she stumbled. Instinctively he reached out and caught her. She pulled back as though his hands were made of fire.

“Don’t!” she hissed, wrenching herself out of his hold. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

“Grace, please—”

But she was gone, running to the door and out into the corridor. He could have followed, but he knew it was no use. She was beyond consoling. And what could he offer her, when he was the cause of her grief?

Hours later, Grace lay awake on her bed, staring into the darkness. Mellow orange embers were all that remained of the fire in the grate, while the pair of candles her maid had lighted earlier had sputtered out in squat pools of melted wax.

She hadn’t slept, nor would she that night. How could she rest when her entire world had just come crashing down around her? When everything she’d believed had been violently torn apart?

Sweet Lord, how had everything gone so horribly wrong?

Until a few hours ago, she’d been so happy, so full of joy and anticipation, as she counted the last few days until her wedding.

Wedding, ha!
Bondage more like, as she was bartered in trade by the two men she had trusted most. But there was no trust now—her faith, her love, was breached beyond redemption.

As for her father, she wasn’t really surprised by his scheming. He’d never taken pains to conceal his dearest wish that she marry into the ranks of the Ton and, by doing so, further the dynasty he’d worked so long and hard to build. Despite his recent silence on the subject, she ought to have known he would never have given up on his quest. Once her father wanted a thing, he always found a way to make it happen.

Of course, he wanted her “happy” as well, and what better way to see to her comfort and contentment than to find her a man she would like? Someone designed to please her in all ways, whom she could love if she let herself. When he’d chosen Jack Byron, he’d chosen well, finding her a strong man—but more, a gentleman—one he’d instinctively known she would not be able to resist.

And then there was Jack.

A harsh shudder went through her, her eyes squeezing tight against the pain that threatened to slice her in two. Curling on her side, she waited for the worst to pass. Waited until she thought she could keep from crying aloud and shaming herself should someone happen to hear. But thankfully, the household was asleep, so her agony was hers to bear alone.

How amused he must have been all these weeks, watching her fall so easily beneath his spell, she thought. The towering, twenty-five-year-old spinster, who’d toppled into his waiting hands like a ripe piece of fruit. But then any woman would topple into his hands; he had only to beckon the one he desired most.

In her case, however, his interest was feigned, calculating. He didn’t really want her, she was simply the means to an end. Deep in her heart, she’d always known it wasn’t right, that it made no logical sense for a man as handsome and sophisticated as Jack Byron to desire a plain, ordinary mouse like her. And now she had proof that she was right.

The knowledge gave her no satisfaction, however; the truth lay cold and hollow in her heart. Part of her wished she could take back the past few hours, erase everything that had happened tonight so she could live happily again inside her delusions. But doing so would merely have put off the inevitable. Eventually—months or even years from now—she would have come to realize her folly, awakening one bleak day to the reality of her empty, one-sided love.

He
liked
her, did he? She noticed there’d been no mention of any deeper emotion. Because in that, he hadn’t been able to lie. When she thought back, she realized he’d never spoken of love—only need and desire. How had he phrased it the morning he’d proposed?

I’ve come to realize…that I can’t do without you.

Considering her father’s hold over him, she could see now just how accurate that statement had been. As for letting her assume he loved her…well, she was sure he’d figured it only made his task that much easier. He said he’d set out to seduce her, and he’d done exactly that. She’d been utterly besotted, giving him not just her body but her heart as well.

She cringed now to think of the ways she’d exposed herself, openly professing her love in the mistaken belief that he returned her sentiments.

Worse still was the manner in which he’d played on her vulnerabilities. How he’d urged her, even demanding at times, that she tell him she loved him, aware all the while that he was perpetrating a sham of the most heinous kind.

Bastard.

She squeezed her hands into fists and pressed them hard against her aching chest. The fact that he’d used her, she could understand, even if she might not condone his actions. The fact that he’d made a mockery of her in the process—well, that she would never forgive.

So, what to do next?

The wedding would have to be called off, of course. She couldn’t possibly marry him now, not knowing the things she did. Their breakup would cause a huge scandal, resulting in a public humiliation he quite richly deserved.

Once she left Braebourne, though, she would have no choice but to return to her father’s house—a fact about which neither she nor her father would be pleased.

And afterward? She lay there, staring blindly, while her future stretched outward as dark and impenetrable as the room around her.

If only she had money, she could choose her own path.

If only she had independence, she could forge a destiny free of the dictates and manipulations of men.

And yet, maybe I can,
she realized several moments later.

Wiping away the last of her tears, she began to plan.

J
ack groaned and rolled onto his back, the empty crystal tumbler in his hand dropping to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud. The small sound was enough to bring him awake, his eyes popping open as though a gun had just been fired.

Sitting upright, he looked around and immediately wished he hadn’t when the room took a sickening spin around him.

Clutching his head, he waited for the dizzying stab of pain to subside. As he did, he became aware of two things. He’d slept on the sofa instead of his bed. And Grace hated him.

Grace.

He winced as the memories swept through him.

After she’d left last night, he’d gone over to his desk, taken out his pocketknife, and proceeded to slice the settlement into tiny little pieces. While he was at it, he’d hacked the leather folder apart as well. His desk and the floor beneath were still littered with the remains.

The impulse had been childish, he knew, but at the time he’d been so angry, so frustrated with himself, that he’d needed some means of relieving his seething emotions. It was either that or start punching something. But even then, he’d known better than to put a hole in one of the walls. Although, under the circumstances, the misery of the broken hand he would surely have sustained might well have been worth it for a measure of satisfaction—however fleeting.

Ten minutes later, he’d located a brandy decanter and started drinking. At some point, he remembered getting sleepy. Rather than make the short trip over to the bed, he’d stretched out on the sofa and passed out.

Despite all wishes to the contrary, however, nothing could change what had occurred last night. Grace had found the settlement. She’d read it. And everything between them was over.

If he hadn’t already destroyed the blasted thing, he might try again now. Of course, Danvers and both their solicitors still had copies. But that wouldn’t matter for long. At any moment, he was sure someone would be knocking at his door, demanding to know why Grace had just ordered the coach to take her back to London.

On a sigh, he scrubbed a hand through his tousled hair.

Suddenly a knock came at the door, startling him despite his anticipatory musings. Climbing to his feet, he made a halfhearted attempt to straighten his shirt and trousers, then gave his permission for whoever was there to enter.

He expected it to be Ezra Danvers. But it wasn’t. Instead, one of the maids walked inside, bearing a small note card on a silver salver. She was Grace’s lady’s maid, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Your pardon for the interruption, your lordship,” she said. “But Miss Danvers asked me to give this to you without delay.”

For a long moment he hesitated before reaching out for the note. Dismissing the woman with a nod of thanks, he waited until she’d gone, then broke open the seal.

He winced, then refolded the note. So she wasn’t leaving yet, after all. Surprising. Although perhaps she simply wanted to end their engagement in person. Dragging in a deep breath, he rang the bell for his valet.

Grace’s half-boots crunched against the shell pathway, her long green cloak eddying in a slow swirl around her ankles, as she paced in the center of the rose garden. Her breath frosted on the air, but she barely noticed the chill, too numb inside to be disturbed by a little cold. A second set of footsteps soon joined her own, and she turned to see Jack strolling toward her.

An ache rose inside her chest as she watched him draw near. Defiantly, she chose to blame her reaction on the freezing air, rather than the shock of seeing him again for the first time since their confrontation last night.

He looks tired,
she thought. Despite his neat appearance and close-shaven face, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, as though he hadn’t slept well.

I hope he had a terrible night. Heaven knows, I certainly did.

“Good morning,” he said.

She ignored the greeting. “I see you found the right section of the garden.”

“Yes. Even I know where the roses grow.” A hard gust of wind blew, ruffling her cloak and the short woolen capes on the shoulder of his greatcoat. “Though perhaps we’d both be more comfortable inside,” he suggested. “It’s freezing out here.”

She suppressed a shiver. “This will do. What I have to say won’t take long, and I don’t want anyone to overhear us.”

He gave a nod. “As you wish.”

Despite having spent half the night rehearsing what she planned to say, the words didn’t come instantly to the fore. She buried her hands inside her pockets and took several pacing steps. “I’ve given this situation a great deal of thought, and I’ve come to a number of decisions. First of all, I wish to reiterate how strongly I disapprove of what you and my father have done. I am not some object to be bartered back and forth. I find your actions reprehensible and wholly unworthy of a gentleman.”

She waited to see if he would try to defend himself.

He didn’t.

“Secondly, and I tell you this with complete candor, I would like nothing better than to pack my bags, leave this house, and never set eyes on you again. What you did was unforgivably cruel, and any regard I may once have felt toward you is now at an end. The f-feelings I harbored were for a man I believed I knew. You are not that man.”

A scowl settled on his forehead. “Grace, I—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “Pray allow me to finish.”

His jaw tightened as he closed his mouth.

After a few moments of silence, she continued. “In spite of all that, however, the fact remains that I am a single woman with limited sources of support. I have a small amount of money laid aside from the publication of my artwork, but it is by no means enough to live on were I to leave my father’s residence. And given his involvement in this…this scheme, I refuse to ever live in his house again. Which is why I have decided that you and I shall marry as planned in five days’ time.”

“What!” His blue eyes widened in clear astonishment. “You aren’t calling off the wedding?”

“No. However, I do have conditions.”

“What sort of
conditions?”

“Nonnegotiable ones.” Resuming her pacing, she rubbed her gloved hands over her arms, her heart picking up speed. “I want half of the settlement money deposited into an account established in my name only, and to which you, as my husband, agree to relinquish all current and future rights.”

He lifted a dark brow but said nothing.

“The profit from my painting remains mine, as well. And should I accept any additional commissions in years to come, those funds will be mine too, to earn and spend as I choose.”

“Interesting,” he remarked, crossing his arms. “What else? I assume you’re not finished.”

She shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze for fear of losing her nerve before she’d laid out all her demands. “I want a house in the countryside, deeded in my name alone.”

When he remained silent, she continued. “Something comfortable, though it need not be extravagant, in the location of my choosing. I’m thinking Kent perhaps, or maybe Essex, I haven’t decided which. Some place near the coast where the winters aren’t too long or harsh.”

“And what do you plan to do with this house?”

Stopping, she glanced up. “Live in it, of course.”

Lines of puzzlement formed on his forehead. “You want us to live in a country house near the coast?”

“No.
I
want to live in a country house near the coast. You may take up residence in London or wherever you please. It shall make no difference to me.”

A muscle ticked in his cheek. “So, just to be clear. We will marry, but not live together?”

She linked her hands together in front of her. “That’s right.”

“Do you not think people might notice if you desert me the moment we say our vows? Your father, for instance? Knowing Danvers, he’ll probably refuse to pay the rest of the settlement, if we separate.”

She nodded. “I did consider that, and you’re right. Papa will know something is amiss if we part immediately after the wedding. And if he does, he may attempt to interfere again by having our marriage annulled. Should that happen, it’s doubtful I would receive my half of the money. He might also insist you pay him back the full amount of your gaming debt, after all.”

“You certainly seem to have an excellent grasp of the situation,” he said in a wry tone.

“I do. Therefore, I will consent to live under the same roof as you for the first few months of our marriage. I imagine the end of the Season should be long enough to allay anyone’s suspicions. When the Ton leaves the city at summer’s end, I will quietly retire to my new house in the country, while you can go…wherever you prefer to go.”

“To the devil, perhaps?” he suggested.

“If that’s what you’d like,” she replied with studied nonchalance.

He shot her a piercing look. “There will be talk, you know.”

“Not a great deal, I imagine. From what I am given to understand, most aristocratic couples spend the majority of their time apart. You and I shall be no different.”

“You realize if we marry, it’s for life. We may separate, but there will be no divorce.”

Her heart squeezed to hear him speak so coldly. And yet this whole matter between them was cold, as frigid and grey as the winter day around them. “Even if a divorce were possible, I have no interest in marrying again. A permanent separation is fine.”

An unfathomable expression passed over his face. Pausing, he took a moment to gaze into the distance. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Quite sure. I have been manipulated and maltreated quite enough, thank you. I want my independence, and I can think of no better way of achieving it than by means of this arrangement.”

Linking her fingers together, she squeezed them tight, using the discomfort to hold down the rising tide of emotions churning inside her. With only the tiniest provocation on his part, she feared she would be lost, a torrent of tears—or worse—breaking loose. As he continued to gaze out across the manicured grounds, she studied his profile, tracing the planes and angles of his beautiful face. His once beloved face that concealed the cold heart of a liar.

Her resolve hardened at the reminder.

“Really,” she remarked in a deliberately casual voice. “I should think you’d be relieved. If I call off the wedding, you’ll just be back at the beginning, and up to your ears in debt to my father. Agree to my conditions, and you’ll not only have your freedom but a fortune to boot—even if it is slightly less than you’d been planning on.”

He shifted his gaze, regarding her for a long, silent time. “Very well, Grace. It shall be as you wish.”

Air rushed from her lungs. “Can your solicitor be here to draw up the agreement before the wedding, do you think? I want no misunderstandings between us.”

Sudden anger flared in his eyes. “Oh, there won’t be. And neither is there any need for a solicitor. You may no longer consider me much of a gentleman, but my word as a man is still good. You shall have your money and your house, without strings, exactly as agreed. If that isn’t sufficient, perhaps we should go see your father right now and call the whole thing off.”

Her gaze swept down, realizing she’d pushed him too far. “No. Your promise is satisfactory.”

“Good. And one more thing while we’re having this tête-à-tête. You may detest me now, but you’re going to have to pretend otherwise for the duration of the holiday. Until we’re wed and off on our own, everyone will be watching us, expecting to see a happy couple. Do you think you can manage to show a measure of affection toward me for the next few days? Otherwise, there’s not much point to this plan of yours.”

Her chin came up. “I can play the moony-eyed romantic if you can.”

He showed his teeth in a feral smile before offering his arm. “Let us return inside then. I don’t want you to take a chill.”

But a chill was exactly what went through her as she laid her hand on his sleeve, shivering as she wondered just what she’d done.