The Rake's Wicked Proposal

He drew in a ragged breath. ‘Very well, Grace.’ He released her reins. ‘Hopefully you will be of a more reasonable state of mind when I accompany Arabella to your aunt and uncle’s house later this afternoon.’

Her eyes flashed warningly. ‘That is something I would advise you not to put too much hope upon!’

Lucian’s mouth set grimly. ‘I trust you will not mind if I allow your groom to be the one to accompany you back to your aunt’s house…?’

Grace glared. ‘On the contrary. I would prefer it!’ She left him with a terse nod of dismissal and signalled for her groom to follow her.

Lucian held the stallion reined in as he sat on the path and watched Grace ride away, her head held proudly high.

When Lucian had begun to consider the idea of taking a wife over these last few months, he had never—not even in his wildest musings—imagined her as being someone as impossibly headstrong and wilful as Miss Grace Hetherington was proving to be…

‘Grace, may I say how beautiful you are looking this morning—’

‘No, you may not!’ Grace turned angrily on Francis Wynter as she encountered him in the hallway, after returning from her ride in the park with Lord Lucian. ‘In fact, do not talk to me at all!’ she added scathingly, her chin high. ‘You are despicable, sir. Beneath contempt. A worm. Worse than a worm!’

Lord Francis looked startled by the vitriol of her attack. ‘Really, Grace, I do not think such behaviour—’

‘I do not recall giving you leave to address me so informally, My Lord.’

‘But Grace—’

‘I said do not speak to me!’ Grace was shaking in her anger, still far from recovered after that verbal exchange with Lucian St Claire earlier. ‘From all accounts you have spoken far too much already!’ she added disgustedly.

Francis looked even more bewildered. ‘I do not—I have no idea what—’

‘Do not force me to name you a liar as well as a gossip, sir!’ Her eyes glittered warningly.

He drew himself up stiffly. ‘If you were a man I would call you out for such—’

‘If you were a man I would accept!’ Grace assured him forcefully. ‘Deny it—if you can!—that you are responsible for spreading gossip about the—the suddenness of my betrothal to Lord St Claire!’

His look of bewilderment faded, to be replaced by his usual expression of pomposity. ‘I thought only to give you a means of breaking the engagement—’

‘By shaming me?’ she gasped. ‘By embarrassing me?’

‘By publicly offering myself as an alternative to the embarrassing situation you found yourself in,’ he corrected gently.

‘The only embarrassment I have suffered has been at your hands, sir!’ Her mouth twisted scathingly and she eyed him pityingly. ‘But I have no doubt that I may leave any retribution to St Claire. He is not, I believe, a man it is wise of you to have made an enemy of.’

‘You are over-emotional, Grace.’ Francis was fast regaining his composure, his expression once again pompously condescending. ‘Even hysterical—’

‘I am furious, Francis,’ Grace corrected icily, her cheeks bright with that emotion, as he made the mistake of extending to her the same accusation that Lord Lucian had earlier. ‘In your own interest, I believe it would be better if you were to learn to perceive the difference between the two emotions. At least as far as I am concerned.’

He gave a disapproving shake of his head. ‘You used never to behave or talk in this unbecoming fashion before you became acquainted with St Claire…’

‘How can you be sure of that when you have never really known me—either before I became acquainted with Lucian or since?’ Grace challenged.

‘I believed that I did—’

‘Then you were wrong, were you not?’

‘So it would appear.’ He gave a stiff inclination of his head. ‘In the circumstances, I believe it is as well that I had not already made the mistake of offering for you myself.’

Grace eyed him coldly. ‘The only pity in that is that I have been denied the pleasure of turning down such an offer!’