The Rake's Wicked Proposal

Whether her aunt allowed it or not, that was fully Grace’s intention. She simply could not—would not—marry a man she did not love, who did not love her, for something she—they—had not even done.

‘Yes. June,’ Grace repeated firmly, this time avoiding the mockery she knew would still be in Lord Lucian’s knowing gaze.

‘The weather is sure to be more agreeable then—do you not think, Lord Lucian?’

Lucian looked at her from between narrowed lids, not fooled for a moment by the innocence of Grace’s expression as she looked at him enquiringly. Miss Grace Hetherington, he felt sure, was hoping to end their betrothal as soon as it became apparent to her guardians that she was not with child. An occurrence they already both knew was not even a possibility.

But it really would not do. Child or no, as far as the Duke and Duchess of Carlyne were concerned Grace’s reputation was well and truly ruined, and the fact that no child would appear eight or even seven months after a marriage between them could not change that fact. Grace simply refused to accept that they had decided their own fates by the mere fact they had been found together by her aunt in Grace’s bedchamber in a state of undress.

He met her gaze unblinkingly. ‘I see no reason to delay the wedding until June when we are both so set on it.’

Those grey eyes flashed warningly, although her tone was calmly sweet. ‘I believe the delay would give us more time to become better acquainted, My Lord.’

Lucian bared his teeth in a humourless smile. ‘I assure you, your aunt and uncle believe us to be already acquainted well enough!’

The Duchess gave a strangled gasp at his candour, her hand going nervously to her throat as she became completely flustered. ‘A wedding next month really would be preferable, Grace—’

‘I am set on June.’

Lucian studied the stubborn set of Grace’s mouth for several long seconds. Her stubbornness was another indication that she was far from the compliant wife he had wished for.

For all that Grace had probably not slept well the night before, once her guardians had informed her of their betrothal, she looked quite astonishingly beautiful this morning. Her high-waisted gown was of a shade of grey that was almost silver, a perfect match in colour for her eyes, and its low neckline showed a tantalising amount of her creamy breasts. Her hair was a riot of dark curls, with several wispy tendrils falling temptingly about her throat and nape, and her lips dusky pink in the otherwise paleness of her face. If he was going to have a wilful wife forced upon him, at least Lucian could be thankful she was a beautiful and desirable one!

He gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. ‘If that really is your wish, Grace…’

‘What an agreeable and accommodating husband you are to have, to be sure, Grace,’ The Duchess told her approvingly, seeming completely impervious to the way her niece’s gaze had narrowed so suspiciously on Lucian.

But Lucian was aware of it, and met that look with one of challenge as he allowed a mocking smile to curve his lips. ‘How could I be any other with one as beautiful as Grace?’

Grace wished very much that the two of them were alone, so that she might tell this man exactly what she wished him to do with her—and that was to release her from this bogus betrothal! Something he obviously had no intention of doing.

But the delay of the wedding until June was exactly what Grace wished for. She might then have just reason—in her guardians’ eyes, at least—for ending the betrothal. Although it might be a little difficult to achieve with any degree of ease if St Claire were to continue being so accommodating.

Grace deliberately kept her lashes lowered over rebellious eyes.

‘You are very kind, My Lord.’

‘Then you are the first to find me so, Grace,’ Lord Lucian drawled tauntingly.

‘Oh, I am sure that cannot be true, Lucian,’ the Duchess reproved indulgently. ‘I remember you as being a most agreeable young man.’

Grace could not imagine Lucian St Claire as a young man at all, let alone an agreeable one. ‘Age has a way of rendering cynical even the sunniest of spirits, Aunt.’ She smiled sweetly.

No, definitely not compliant, Lucian acknowledged with reluctant admiration. But then, he doubted his interest would have been in the least piqued if she had been. He simply had not envisaged marrying her at the time!